• The President Time Forgot

    Yesterday we drove an hour and a half to Derry, NH, to see an early home of the American poet, Robert Frost. It was closed. We ate lunch and then we drove all the way back. 3 hours. For nada. Just in case you’re tempted to idealize our existence from time to time.

    So I’m going to write about Calvin Coolidge, “Silent Cal,” one of the US’s least known presidents, instead.

    “Whether one traces his Americanism back three centuries to the Mayflower, or three years to steerage, is not half so important as whether his Americanism of today is real and genuine. No matter by what various crafts we came here, we are all now in the same boat.”

    And what a boat it is.

    Few topics are generally less interesting to me than politicians, with very few exceptions. I did not expect Calvin Coolidge to become one of those exceptions.

    Seeing a little icon on my phone’s map as we drove to NY last week and wanting a break from driving, we stopped at the unassuming Vermont State Historical Site preserving Calvin Coolidge’s childhood home, the village of Plymouth Notch where he and his extended family lived, and where his first Summer White House was located. I’m glad we did.

    I knew very little about the 30th president except that his administration dodged the 1929 Stock Exchange crash and the following Great Depression by mere months. Portrayed by fellow politicians, Washington high society, and the press as dour for his New England brusqueness and asocial for his lack of loquaciousness earned Calvin Coolidge the moniker “Silent Cal.” This is quite the misnomer considering that Coolidge wrote and delivered more speeches, wrote a weekly news column, and as one of the first radio presidents was heard by more citizens nationwide than any other president of that era.

    After doing some additional reading about Coolidge, including his unedited autobiography (I recommend avoiding the edited version), I’ve come to find more common ground with him than I expected. I’ve included some quotes that especially resonated with me (seen in italics).

    Calvin Coolidge remembers his childhood community and especially his father and grandfather as setting solid examples of thrift, hard work, straight dealings, public service, and treating everyone as equals. They probably all made great neighbors. The community’s only disdain, he later remarked, was for those who put on airs and thought themselves above others. I can only imagine what they’d make of the world today.

    “Character is the only secure foundation of the State.”

    Calvin Coolidge was born in this home, attached to the general stone that his father owned at the time, but which his father sold later to pursue cheese making

    Vice President Coolidge ascended to the nation’s highest office after the sudden death of President Harding. Since Coolidge, his wife, and boys were back visiting their families for the holidays, and his father was a notary public, the Coolidges alone can lay claim to a son being inaugurated by his father (on a copy of the Constitution in the dead of night in his parents’ living room).

    “The Constitution is the sole source and guarantee of national freedom.”

    Coolidge vowed to continue the Harding administration’s goals of scaling back WWI tax increases while also paying down the debt that the nation had taken on to fund the war. He carried his beliefs about responsible personal finance with him into his political career, to the benefit of the nation.

    “Public debt [is] a burden on all the people.”

    “Economy is the method by which we prepare today to afford the improvements of tomorrow.”

    Coolidge’s father’s original recipes are still being used to create several styles of wax sealed cheese. Jeff tells me the samples were delicious.

    He announced, however, that he would exact these results ‘in his own manner,’ alluding to the multiple growing scandals related to grift, corruption, and back door deals that were tied to the Harding administration.

    “There is no surer road to destruction than prosperity without character.”

    “The right thing to do never requires any subterfuge; it is always simple and direct.”

    An example of New England long (add-on) construction. The upper story of the nearest building housed Coolidge’s Summer White House.

    Before the advent of air conditioning, the Summer White House was the name given to the temporary country retreat of the Chief Executive. It was usually in a cooler and less humid region during Congress’ traditional summer break. Coolidge was known for picking spots that offered good fishing opportunities. A man after Jeff’s own heart. All he required was a secure place to do the Nation’s important work, not an ostentatious display so that he could try to feel important.

    This is the Summer White House at Plymouth Notch in its entirety. A couple of simple tables and chairs, some drawers and cubbies, a square grand piano (left by the building’s owner), and a small mailbag room on the landing (not shown)

    Not a bit of gold leaf in the whole place, and yet serious things still got done. Imagine that.

    “Money will not purchase character or good government.

    While he and I would look at many political policies and personal beliefs differently, I find that I agree with him more often than I expected. He was a simple and straightforward leader and seems to have been beloved from coast to coast (except in the former confederate states, which at that time was a pretty strong argument for his decency as a human being). Therefore, his announcement in 1927 to not run for a second full term — which everyone at the time agreed he would have won easily — shocked the nation. But having done what he set out to do, he later said he felt it was the appropriate time to leave.

    “When a man begins to feel that he is the only one who can lead in this Republic, he is guilty of treason to the spirit of our institutions.”

    Noting,

    “It is difficult for men in high office to avoid the malady of self-delusion. They are always surrounded by worshipers.”

    And boy howdy, some men in high office sure do have a taste for being worshipped.

    One day while the President was completing his first partial term, the Coolidges’ younger son, Calvin Jr, was playing tennis on the White House lawn. He got a blister on his foot which became infected, leading to sepsis. He died from blood poisoning — a horrible, painful death — and all his family could do was watch. A good reminder that the advancements of modern medicine are worth protecting.

    Calvin Jr made this little weathervane as a boy. It flutters still over the family’s flower garden.

    Coolidge insisted that interest in representative government wasn’t a realm reserved only for pundits and politicians.

    “Despotism has forever had a powerful hold upon the world. Autocratic government, not self-government, has been the prevailing state of mankind. The record of past history is the record, not of the success of republics, but of their failure.”

    Consequently:

    “If the people fail to vote, a government will be developed which is not their government… The whole system of American Government rests on the ballot box. Unless citizens perform their duties there, such a system of government is doomed to failure.”

    Driving across the nation, you see lots of yard, window, and bar signs that proclaim, ‘Land of the Free Because of the Brave’ and ‘Freedom isn’t Free,’ but I have yet to see a sign that acknowledges this timely fact:

    “Freedom is not only bought with a great price; it is maintained by unremitting effort.”

    The argument that someone just doesn’t ‘do politics’ ignores the fact that politics will still very much ‘do’ them. It’s likewise too easy an excuse to simply declare that ‘all politicians are corrupt’ and not bother to dip an oar to help redirect the boat we find ourselves in, especially at the local and state level.

    “What we need is not more Federal government, but better local government.”

    Coolidge was a fierce proponent of equal rights his entire career. He wasn’t impressed by titles, wealth, or possessions. During his administration, citizenship was extended to all Native Americans and federal financial support was directed for the first time to open medical schools at Black universities.

    “The most common commodity in this country is unrealized potential.”

    He encourages us to remember that We the People, requires that we ensure every citizen’s rights and freedoms.

    “Good citizenship is neither intricate nor involved. It is simple and direct. It is everyday common sense and justice.”

    Justice. What a concept.

    “One of the greatest perils to an extensive republic is the disregard of individual rights.”

    In a national radio address, while he was in South Dakota and the Klan were marching in their bedsheets down Pennsylvania Avenue, Coolidge denounced a spectrum of racially discriminatory practices and pointedly shamed the illegal, immoral, and often politically sanctioned terrorizing of Black Americans by the Klan in the South.

    “If all men are created equal, that is final. If they are endowed with inalienable rights, that is final.”

    “American ideals do not require to be changed so much as they require to be understood and applied.”

    But to know these ideals, citizens must first learn them. Coolidge was a fierce proponent of public education. As a child from a rural hamlet, Calvin acknowledged that it was his early schooling as much as his upbringing that allowed him to understand and appreciate the Constitution, both what it promised and what it required of its citizens, and which helped him succeed at all levels of government. He was surrounded by great educators, including his mother, step mother, sister, and wife who had all been public school teachers. The first two at his own one room community school (K-8), his sister in a nearby community, and his wife at a school for the deaf.

    “School is not the end but only the beginning of an education.”

    “My formal period of education was passed, though my studies are still pursued.”

    Coolidge recognized that only an educated citizenry has a fighting chance of recognizing tyranny slinking in and appealing to our basest, most clannish instincts.

    “When people are bewildered they tend to become credulous.

    “Wherever despotism abounds, the sources of public information are the first to be brought under its control.”

    Coolidge recognized that the first move aspiring authoritarians make is to buy, direct, consolidate, or in other ways control the narrative. Our modern minds immediately go to Mussolini, Hitler, and Putin, but it has always been and continues to be that way. One need only look at some of our most popular sources of information — rage-bating social media feeds, fear-based news programming, podcasts that provide a curated mix of sensational half truths and outright lies, and crime-fo-tainment programming to desensitize the populace — and the rich and power-hungry people who own, manage, and direct them.

    Coolidge took his position as President seriously, acknowledging that his behavior set the tone for the nation.

    “The words of the President have an enormous weight and ought not to be used indiscriminately.”

    The grave of the President, no higher or ornate than his wife’s or father’s, is differentiated only by the Presidential seal. A smaller version for his son, Calvin Jr, rests beside the President’s.

    “Politics is not an end, but a means. It is not a product, but a process. It is the art of government. Like other values it has its counterfeits. So much emphasis has been placed upon the false that the significance of the true has been obscured and politics has come to convey the meaning of crafty and cunning selfishness, instead of candid and sincere service.”

    We don’t change much as a species, do we?

  • Grab a #2 Pencil, We’re Going to Ticonderoga

    When I was in elementary school, the day after Labor Day always brought two unsharpened Ticonderoga #2 pencils, an unopened box of 8 Crayola crayons, and a fresh Pink Pearl eraser from my public school teachers. How or where the teachers got these supplies for their working class students never crossed my mind, but looking back they were probably supplied by the manufacturers to build brand loyalty in our still forming consumer minds. If so, it worked. From that point on, Ticonderoga, Crayola, and Pink Pearl were the gold standards. There might be differences in peanut butter brands among the elementary set — I mean, everyone knew that kid with Peter Pan brand peanut butter on his sandwich — but the playground brooked no dissent about The Big Three. We all knew it was better to have 8 Crayola’s in a basic box than a 64 pack of cheapo crayons, even if that big box did come with a built in sharpener. Jeff, a private school kid, says he did not share this experience.

    Imagine my surprise this week when I learned that my beloved pencils weren’t actually made in Ticonderoga, NY. Only the graphite was (originally) mined in the region and then processed in a mill along Ticonderoga’s swift little La Chute River. The pencils were actually made in New Jersey.

    Yeah. New Jersey.

    Clinging to the lie that is Ticonderoga pencils

    Even more than for graphite, grain, and lumber, the La Chute River powered multiple paper mills after the wood pulp process was improved and industrialized. By buying up their competitors, International Paper ended up running mills across a significant part of the town’s river frontage. After deciding to move to a larger and more modern facility a few miles away, the company dismantled their buildings and donated the land to the city for parks and green space.

    The photo above and below, of a building that was once part of the the International Paper office complex, is now home to the city’s historical society. It has some interesting features and is a lovely tie between the eras. I’m glad they were able to save and repurpose it.

    The decorative stone and brick work from that era makes my heart happy

    A helpful woman at the historical society desk took the time to tell us about the museum, the historically accurate diorama sets painstakingly built by a local woman over many years, and pointed out significant spots on a ‘past & present’ map for further exploration on foot. She didn’t have to. She could have stayed in her seat and just waved us in, but she took the time. And I appreciate that. It’s people like her that help locals and visitors alike feel connected to a region’s history.

    Delano & Ives Sash & Door
    “Delano and Ives planed and processed lumber, manufactured wood moldings, sashes, blinds and doors. During the 19th century this mill also manufactured bluing boxes, drug and pill boxes, clothespins, toothpicks and shoe pegs.”
    Ticonderoga Machine Works
    “Products manufactured by the machine works were necessary to both the graphite and pulp and paper mills. The shop built and improved the barking machine at the paper mills. Screens used in paper making, the Paddock Ore Separator used by the graphite mill and numerous engines used for wrecking companies and the US Navy were also produced at the Ticonderoga Machine Works.”
    John Stoughton’s Store
    “This store, 1764, was located near the lower falls where casks of fine Jamaica Spirits, powdered sugar, molasses, fish hooks, walnuts, peach stones, mill stones, and seeds were sold. They were obtained from Samuel Deall of New York City in exchange for shingles, red cedar posts and venison. These goods were shipped to Albany from New York via sloop where they were transported to wagons and driven to Lake George to be transported by barge to Ticonderoga.”

    While walking the town’s three mile La Chute waterfall trail, we followed the river’s 200 foot drop across several falls down from the level of Lake George to that of Lake Champlain. Below you can see examples of the scouring effect of fast moving water on rock.

    This dam near the center of town is seeping water from between stones and under its foundations. That’s not good.
    Jeff called this Ticonderoga’s own little Tahquamenon Falls

    Ticonderoga has several beautiful murals around town, including this one related to its paper making past.

    Like many American post-industrial towns, downtown Ticonderoga is struggling and there doesn’t appear to be much for people, teens especially, to do. Tourist lodging appears to be the main draw these days, with most storefronts shuttered, although a few restaurants seem to be holding their own.

    We read that Paper & Pencil, the only spot open for dinner on Sunday nights, was in a former factory building. What we didn’t know until a few days later is that the building was a former coffin factory. Probably best that they didn’t go with that fact for the name.

    Old millstones are used to line the river (opposite is the Paper & Pencil patio)

    Side note: pleasing photography is often as much about what isn’t shown. For example, I cropped this little covered bridge in the city park quite tightly to hide the ugly features surrounding it on all sides. Pixel magic and pixie dust.

    An idealized version of reality

    Now, why is tourist lodging Ticonderoga’s main industry these days? Because Fort Ticonderoga, which had an outsized role in driving the British from Boston during the Revolutionary War, is right down the road. But that’s getting ahead of ourselves.

    Before it was Fort Ticonderoga, it was a French fortification called Fort Carillon, begun in 1755 from wood they milled at the very first lumber mill on the shores of Rivière de La Chute.

    In 1759 the British captured Fort Carillon and renamed it Fort Ticonderoga after the nearby settlement, which is still referred to by its Iroquois term, meaning between two waters. Fort Ticonderoga fell to Ethan Allen and Benedict Arnold for the Americans in 1775 (before Arnold’s sneaky snake traitor move). Henry Knox later led a train of desperately needed cannon and field artillery in the dead of winter south from Fort Ticonderoga, via Lake George, and then east overland to a much relieved George Washington, waiting uneasily outside of Boston.

    Copies of this Henry Knox Trail Marker are found at spots all along the route he and his troops took through NY and MA

    The British eventually retook the fort and held it the remainder of the war.

    For reasons that are unknown to me, Ticonderoga is also home to a full and exact set of replica studio sets based on blueprints from the original Star Trek series. I love the juxtaposition in this photograph. I certainly didn’t expect to find a gorgeously painted, history-rich mural of Henry Knox beside a minimalistic sign for the ultra campy futuristic TV show.

    Come for the history, stay for the holodeck?
  • New Hampshire, Month 2 in (mostly) Pictures

    Two wasp stings within two weeks caused Jeff’s oversized allergic reaction. Since we’re often hiking and in zero cell service zones, he’s now a member of Team Epi-Pen, just to be safe. The medications cocktail he’s on at the moment to bring down the swelling, fight any infection, and manage the itching is really something. It’s not how we would have chosen to celebrate the end of our 11th month living in the teardrop trailer, or two months volunteering with the Corps of Engineers, but we didn’t get a vote on the situation.

  • Local Side Quests

    We’ve survived two short but sweltering heat domes in The Beangle since arriving in New Hampshire two months ago. And, no, it doesn’t have AC. Yes, it was pretty miserable. The high humidity certainly didn’t help. It made everything feel like they had been dipped in used dishwater. We rated these six or seven days a 2 out of 10. Not recommended. But the Corps staff fussed over us and made life as bearable as possible. We cooked dinner in their kitchenette, and I even used an oven for the first time in over 10 months! We ate meals in their conference room and spent a couple of hours each day soaking up the AC to drop our internal temperatures back to normal, which made sleeping much easier. We survived it. Thankfully those days are outliers and we’re back to the region’s regularly scheduled program of highs in the upper 70s to low 80s with mostly cool if humid nights.

    On our off days, we’ve been making the rounds to a few local sights and learned some unexpected things along the way. Let me tell you about a few of them.

    First: Concord, New Hampshire, the state’s capital city (not to be confused with the more famous city in Massachusetts). We’d planned to follow the official city walking tour but got waylaid at the first stop, the New Hampshire State House. It’s a good one.

    The oldest state capitol building in which both houses of the legislature meet in their original chambers.

    The entrance hall displays a large flag collection from NH troops across multiple conflicts. Some are full flags, most are partial, and a heart-wrenching few are just a pole with a small tuft of fabric still attached. Several were obviously bloodied and torn from battle. A plaque at the base of each tells about that troop’s historical dates and places of action. We took an interesting volunteer-led tour of the building but zero photographs inside.

    Excellent detail on a lamp post out front

    Did you know that little NH has the most state representatives in the USA? 400 of them, in fact. I didn’t. There is a NH State Representative for approximately every 3,300 NH residents. That’s pretty amazing. In contrast, on the opposite side of the wall sits one of the smallest state senates in the nation, with only 24 Senators! Although they are called the lower house and upper house respectively, there’s no discrepancy in remuneration. Each representative and senator earns $200 a year, before taxes, and they’re only reimbursed for mileage. No meals, hotels, coffee, etc on the NH state dime. Thank you very much.

    Marilla Marks Young Ricker
    “Ricker (1840-1920) was born in New Durham, NH. She was known nationally as a suffragist, attorney, author, and humanitarian. In Dover in 1870, Ricker became the first NH woman to try to vote. She was denied a ballot, but for 50 years she kept trying to vote.
    Ricker studied law to fight society’s oppression of women and the poor. She passed the bar in 1882 “with the highest grade of all who were admitted at the time”. Her law practice was mostly pro bono work on behalf of the poor and incarcerated. Returning to NH, Attorney Ricker petitioned the NH Supreme Court to practice law. When she was denied because of her gender, she sued and won, opening the NH bar to female attorneys. At age 70, Ricker tried to run as a Republican candidate for governor. Her filing was refused because, as a woman, she was not registered to vote and thus not allowed to run. Ricker’s tireless work for women’s rights paved the way for the many NH women who would later hold public office. She died on November 12, 1920, shortly after the 19th Amendment granted women the vote. Marilla was an advocate of equality and justice for all.
    Artist: Kate Gridley, 2016”

    It was good to see this memorial to Marilla Ricker in the NH State House, especially now when voting rights for women and brown people are under attack again (and again and again). It’s important to remember that “the good old days” that certain people and parties reminisce so heartily about, and are trying to drag the nation back into, were actually pretty shitty for a whole lot of people.

    Now that’s how a post office should look

    On a different week, we visited the childhood home of Franklin Pierce, the fourteenth president of the United States, New Hampshire’s only homegrown president. His family home, we’re told, was a rather raucous one, part tavern (literally) and part party central for the local gentry. His parents lived to entertain, had revolving extended family members staying with them, and his father insisted that the entire household — servants included! — sit down together for meals. Shocking!! Franklin’s wife found it all so scandalous, after being raised by a rather uptight and unfun minister with strong ideas about propriety, that she and Franklin moved out of Hillsborough and away from his uncouth family shortly after their marriage.

    Boyhood home of Franklin Pierce

    In response to 1816, the year without a summer, the ell became a regular addition to many New England homes, making that long and bent house shape that so confused us. An ell (called so because they are often shaped like the letter L) is an addition that connects the main house to one or more outbuildings—above, kitchen to the well and shed/root cellar, to the carriage house—reducing heat loss, keeping inhabitants warm and dry while performing daily tasks, and making life more bearable during those long and dangerously cold winters. The Pierce’s ell even included access to a privy they had built inside the carriage house! Talk about the lap of luxury for the early 1800s.

    Hillsborough Public Library

    In my opinion, a public library is the best use for former mansions. Great architecture meets great stories, with lots of nooks to hold the books. Keene’s public library is also a former mansion, with a very modern addition off the back and easily the best children’s section I’ve ever seen in my entire life.

    Since arriving, we’ve been hearing about several stone bridges in the Hillsborough region, so we drove around to see a few of them. And drive over them, as we came to find out, because they’re just plain ol’ bridges to the locals who live there. Safety rails? Bahahaha Hardly. More like matchsticks attached to other matchsticks with a chain of paper clips. I’ve leaned on moss that felt sturdier. But the bridges are wonderfully beautiful and made without mortar. You read that right. No mortar. Just well shaped, fitted, and placed stones. Stone masons are astounding. I can’t even get all the lettuce to stay in one place on my sandwich from plate to lips.

    Another week we headed down to Historic Deerfield in Massachusetts, and found out that they’re closed on Mondays and Tuesdays, our days off. So we visited the cemetery, always a hit with me, and drove past a few of the reconstructed homes. If you’ve ever heard of the Deerfield Massacre, this is the Deerfield it refers to. You can find the book I read about it on my Reading List page. The town looks interesting, so maybe we’ll figure out a way to get down there on a day they’re open.

    Graves older than the country itself. I always find that an interesting concept.

    When Jessica came out to camp and visit with us last week, we had one day (Monday) with really nice weather, so we went hiking in Vermont. Being within easy striking distance of two other states has its advantages. Tuesday was a brutally hot day, so we introduced her to our cute little town and watched a World Cup match before making dinner in the office kitchen.

    Her last day also threatened to be rainy, but we snuck in a short waterfall hike in a teeny tiny state park after breakfast, hit the gym, and found her a local running club so that she could get her miles in. Little did we know that several of the other runners were collegiate track athletes. Let’s just say that Jessica hit a speed PR and wondered if she was going to have a heart attack, all within 3 miles. What can I say, she’s a trooper. Having decidedly earned her dinner, we met her at a local speakeasy for food and cocktails/mocktails, after locking up the park gates, so that we could all relax into the evening. Sad and short of sleep, we said our goodbyes the next morning.

    Mount Monadnock

    In her honor, this past Monday Jeff and I hiked half of the eight mile trail that she and I had hoped to do. Good view of Mount Monadnock,

    great rocks and trees,

    and multiple shades of green. What more could we ask for?

  • A surfeit of death (or, The rebirth of a nation)

    It’s 163 years since the three day battle of Gettysburg (July 1-3, 1863) concluded and Lee’s army slipped back into Virginia (July 4, 1863). The following are my thoughts related to the battlefields we visited in Virginia and Pennsylvania. I admit that by the end of them, I was a bit battlefield and Civil War’d out. Although I’ve talked about these specific battlefields and the larger Civil War a good deal with Jeff, and to a lesser extent with Bob and Pam of the Airstream, my experience is not theirs and it won’t be yours. While the four of us shared common ground on many things, we did find some differences of opinion in others. So grain of salt, and all that.

    Lee was wrong about Gettysburg and Confederate sympathizers and historians did General James Longstreet dirty after the war.
    A hill I will die on.

    I never expected to be someone who would have opinions about anything Civil War related, but I do. Oh, I so do. There are things, events, and people that I feel quite strongly about now. Who knew?

    One of the things that has struck me the most, which is both obvious and yet startling in its stark Well, now that I’m standing here reality, is how much of the fighting was guided by the terrain. Infantry, cavalry, artillery, and officers (as well as all of the support staff and hangers-on that followed the troops) were either sheltered or exposed, as the terrain dictated. For the poorly positioned, sunken roads, unfinished railway beds, river banks, dense brush, and fences became obstacles to clamber over, under, or through.

    The since renamed Bloody Lane at Antietam (Sharpsburg)

    For the fortunate, the terrain provided protective cover to hide behind, snipe from, or lay in wait. Private homes and farm buildings were commandeered as headquarters, hospitals, protective shields, and ambush sites. As such, private property was often set alight during retreat to deprive the opposing forces those same uses.

    It’s easy to imagine soldiers and guns tucked behind boulders like these near the base of Gettysburg’s Big and Little Round Tops

    Corn fields, orchards, bogs, and forested areas were used as screens to hide troop movements or as impediments to the other side’s movement. As for hilltops, ridges, and natural embankments, attaining the high ground means a lot more to me now. Bridges and fence-lined roads, on the other hand, corralled troops as easily as they did livestock, making marching soldiers especially vulnerable to attack. Reading about these places, and I’ve read a lot about them in the past year, didn’t come close to understanding how the terrain interacted with and influenced the battles.

    Confederate General Toomb’s 500 soldiers, firing from atop the hill, held Union General Burnside’s far larger force at bay for three hours until, assisted by additional troops that had crossed downstream, the Union finally funneled across Antietam Creek via this bridge (now called Burnside Bridge)

    I find it horrifying to think of the families (by this point, often just women, children, the elderly, and the infirm) who raced from their homes in fear, ultimately returning to find corpses, the severely wounded, and the dying, scattered and planted throughout their property like so much sorghum. In a sick final insult to local residents, retreating soldiers were sometimes even known to foul wells by tossing amputated limbs and corpses down them. Wood floors were often so drenched that their dark red stains proved impossible to remove. I can easily understand why people sometimes chose not to remain, even if they still did have structures standing. The toll that all these losses took on families who struggled to get by in the best of times continues to haunt me. What miserable creatures we humans can sometimes be.

    In an effort to encapsulate the pre-battle moment, the NPS works with local farmers to return as much of the Gettysburg battlefields as possible to their in-that-moment state of working farms. Horses and cows graze. Wheat, barley, and corn are sown and harvested. Peaches get picked.

    Insurance is such an everyday piece of our lives that I don’t know if I can really fathom what it meant to lose everything simply because a foraging army passed by or someone decided that a battle was going to play out in your front yard. No State Farm agent was on hand to help make things right when a family’s farm was burned and their corn trampled into the soil. Geico didn’t send an appraiser when a peach orchard was splintered to toothpicks by cannonball fire. USPS didn’t deliver a check from Nationwide to help restore the financial pieces of a livelihood rent by war. As for the government eventually paying you for your losses, don’t count on it. Abraham Brian, for example, lost his entire 12 acre farm — home, belongings, and all his crops (this was July, remember) — over the course of Gettysburg’s three day battle. He received $15, about $300 today, in compensation.

    I can’t even.

    The inside of a rifled cannon (with bird’s nest)

    And there were just so so so many ways to die in or from these battles. Vastly improved weaponry, heavy reliance on older battle tactics, widespread lack of ammunition on hand (“Bayonets!!”),* and rather medieval medical practices made for a particularly deadly combination.

    Watching the introductory films, reading the informative signs while roaming the battlefields, and listening to audio tours while investigating as many nooks and corners we could find opened these places like no book, film, or documentary had. I can’t stress enough how much it means to visit these places in person. To be open and curious. To get uncomfortable. To not be in a rush to hit the gift shop. Visiting all of the places we have these past ten months, but especially these battlefields, has led me see history as having a tendency to crawl through the decades like a sleepy dog, until it suddenly leaps forward, teeth bared and snapping, with a technological rush.

    Another surprise I had by visiting was how much smaller the battlefields were than I expected. They’re tight, compact, even intimate. I’ve seen sports fields bigger than some of them. Cross Keys and Port Republic, just outside of the southern Shenandoah National Park entrance, come immediately to mind. These men saw the dirt on the faces of the men they were shooting, heard the grunts as they bashed in someone’s skull with the butt of their rifle, and smelled their own and their enemy’s terror.

    But, as shown above, in the midst of incomprehensible horror and violence, there were also moments of extreme compassion and care. I don’t know what it takes for someone to muster up the courage to walk onto a morning’s momentarily quiet battlefield to give water and warm coverings to the enemy’s injured soldiers. Whatever it is, I doubt I have it within me. Both sides must have recognized it though, because it’s said that not a single gun fired on him the entire time he moved among the approximately 8,000 dead and wounded. In an era when the suffering of others is commercialized, serialized, and presented as entertainment, the brave and selfless act of this young man stands in ever greater relief. I’m sorry to report that he never made it home. He died at the Battle of Chickamauga, in northern Georgia. Richard Rowland Kirkland, may time forever remember and honor your name.

    “…it is no part of our duty to confound right with wrong, or loyalty with treason.”

    There are a lot of quotes on the walls of the many battlefield visitor centers, and they cover every possible topic from the causes to the aftermath of the Civil War. There has also been some rather deep-tissue massaging of the same to soften or excuse reality, but for my part, the above quote brings it all to a fine point.

    Well put, Mr. Douglass.

    The most New York of the New York monuments (Little Round Top, Gettysburg)

    If you’ve ever been to a Civil War battlefield, you’ll have noticed the seemingly never-ending monuments that dot the landscape. Every corner, ridge, boulder, and wide open field seems to have been claimed for a state, regiment, division, brigade, or leader. Considering the sheer number of soldiers who converged in these spaces and the experiences they shared, it makes sense. Frankly, I find it hard to really fathom the numbers. When I think about the fact that almost 23,000 of the 132,000 soldiers who converged at Antietam ended up as casualties (dead, wounded, missing, or captured) in a single day, I feel my brain trip a fuse.

    Pennsylvania loves a good obelisk (Antietam)

    I wanted to put that number in perspective, so I looked up the population of Keene, New Hampshire, the thriving small city/large town near us. I blinked hard when I saw that Keene has almost exactly 23,000 inhabitants. I tried to imagine every person, in every vehicle, business, and home removed from participating in their everyday lives by the end of the day. Poof, gone. The population of the entire city in a one day battle. I’d never thought about the meaning of these numbers that way before.

    A little extra razzle dazzle again for NY

    When we’re out on battlefields, I try to read as many of the monuments as I can, especially the smaller ones. It feels like the least I can do. It’s impossible to read them all, but I try my best. After a while I began to feel like a connoisseur of monuments and could often guess which state certain ones commemorated.

    My favorite. The contrasting materials make it really stand out. It’s simple, elegant, and feels very honest to me.
    149th Pennsylvania Infantry (Gettysburg)

    There is a lot of talk about battlefield ghosts and how Gettysburg is The Most Haunted Place in America, but I can’t speak to that as we didn’t encounter anything beyond a few prices in town that made us raise our eyebrows in shock. Those low, golden sunsets and thick foggy mornings definitely set the mood though. Good luck if you want to try some ghost hunting. You’ll have no shortage of local tours, guides, and books to help you get your spook on.

    Looking down from Little Round Top, Devil’s Den is to the left. The main Confederate line was beyond the trees. Ghost hotspot, or so I hear.

    * As yelled by Union Colonel Joshua Lawrence Chamberlain (played by Jeff Daniels) in the movie Gettysburg.

  • New Hampshire, Month 1 in Pictures

    Click on any photo for a larger image.

  • Saint-Gaudens NHP

    On opening the hour long tour of select pieces at Saint-Gaudens National Historical Park, our tour guide made a compelling argument that the artists who capture other people and events for posterity have a strong and lasting impact on how we frame our understanding of those subjects. In this way, a talented sculptor has an outsized impact on their subject’s legacy. Augustus Saint-Gaudens (1848-1907) certainly seems to have done just that.

    Aspet, the family’s summer home — seen from the porch of his art studio — was named after the French village where his father grew up

    Saint-Gaudens is best known for incorporating realism, what he called the ideal, and movement into his monuments. We were surprised to realize how many of his pieces we’d seen in person, in books, or on television. (Just to be clear, the sculptures on display here at the Saint-Gaudens home and workshop in Cornish, New Hampshire, are re-castings, not the originals.)

    Full Admiral David G. Farragut (NYC)

    The sculpture of Admiral Farragut, best known for his paraphrased, “Damn the torpedoes. Full steam ahead,” was Saint-Gaudens first commission and a spectacular success. We learned from the ranger that an older, well-established sculptor was initially awarded the commission, but withdrew his submittal suggesting that it should be given to this new, younger artist instead. I like to think that the older sculptor saw Saint-Gauden’s model and felt the breeze blowing the edge of the Admiral’s coat back while standing on the deck of his ship. I imagine this older artist noting the skill and genius inherent in the missing button, in the wind pressing pant legs against shins, and in the veins popping on the back of a hand intensely clutching binoculars in the heat of battle.

    I apologize for the poor photos. The light was directly overhead, which washed out a lot of the detail, especially under the Farragut statue’s dirty glass roof. The original soft bluestone pedestal full of allegory and mythology (the ideal) was being destroyed by the elements in NYC, so it was shipped to NH to go under this recasting and its cover, with a sturdier recreated pedestal installed in NYC by the Works Progress Administration.

    Abraham Lincoln: The Man (Chicago)

    Again, that uncooperative harsh light. Moving on. It’s easy to notice Saint-Gaudens’ trademark realism and deeply human details in his standing Lincoln. The wrinkles in Lincoln’s waistcoat, the deep lines on his forehead, and his messy hair point to a working and intense man. His bent knee and leading foot, just stepping over the edge of the platform, give the viewer the sense that Lincoln has just risen from his chair, perhaps to greet a visiting constituent or legislator? While stately and upright, I think that Saint-Gaudens still managed to present a little bit of the Midwest attorney that Lincoln once was. His fictional chair’s back is a patchwork of patriotic motifs representing a nation divided but brought back together.

    It was this commission for Chicago’s Lincoln Park that ultimately brought Saint Gaudens to Cornish, NH. While looking for a life-size model in NYC, the sculptor was pointed to the Windsor, Vermont-Cornish, New Hampshire region by a friend, as it was said to be ‘full of Abe Lincoln-sized men.’ And indeed it was. Saint-Gaudens rented a farm near his Lincoln-sized model to work from and, falling in love with the farm and the region, he eventually bought it for his family’s summer retreat.

    Adams Memorial (Washington, D.C.)

    The Adams Memorial was commissioned as a grave marker for the remains of Marian Hooper Adams who ended her own life. Her husband, Henry Adams, gave Augustus Saint-Gaudens much freedom in crafting the monument, with the stipulation that it not resemble Marian’s personal appearance. We didn’t learn why, perhaps Mr Adams never said.

    The artist created the above piece which he called “The Mystery of the Hereafter and The Peace of God that Passeth Understanding.” The figure’s cloak looks as if its outer folds have just been caught by a stray breeze. You can imagine them just about to return to a settled state. The figure, an androgynous amalgam of numerous men and women who sat for the artist, could be anyone and is no one. I get the sense that the subject is resting briefly, composedly, on its way to something else – but without really knowing what or where or even if that is. I can feel myself reading much into this monument, carrying my own experience and grief into how I see it. As, I believe, Saint-Gaudens intended.

    Robert Gould Shaw and the 54th Massachusetts (Boston)

    We have been looking forward to seeing the Robert Gould Shaw and the 54th Massachusetts Monument in the Boston Common for some time, so this sneak preview was especially welcome. When originally commissioned, the artist proposed a standard equestrian statue of just Shaw, but the family objected. They insisted that the 54th Regiment be included in the monument, as appropriate considering the role that these men played in opening up combat roles for black soldiers. The resulting sculpture took Saint-Gaudens over a decade to complete.

    Each as unique as the soldiers who served

    I argue that the Shaw and 54th Memorial is more accurately described as 24 mini sculptures, as the artist used a different life model for each of the 23 foot soldiers and their gear. Young and old, tall and short, clean shaven and grizzled. Saint-Gaudens made models from 40 different men. The sense of movement in this panel is undeniable. Shaw rides alongside his men, restraining his mount. The infantrymen lean slightly forward, eyes straight ahead, as if determinedly pushing on toward Fort Wagner in full knowledge of what is to come while an angel holding poppies flies above, readying each one for death on the battlefield.

    Original mock-ups, sketches, and design alternatives are also on display

    The list of Saint-Gaudens’ works, large and small, is immense and impossible to catalog here. He deserves wider recognition as an important legacy-maker in the United States and Western Europe.

  • I’m not sure why the newsletter doesn’t like to post videos, but if you go to the blog, hmsbeangle.com, you can see what we saw from about 2/3 up to Mount Monadnock. Technology. It’s got a mind of its own sometimes.

  • Mount Monadnock

    We finally did it. Since the weather suddenly became cool again, we hiked the Dublin Trail up to the very rocky and exposed roof of Mount Monadnock (3,165 ft). Surprisingly Monadnock is the most or second most hiked mountain in the world, depending on who you talk to. Its name is also a physical descriptor, meaning an isolated, hard rock peak that stands alone after all the softer rock has worn away. (Outside of the US, they’re called inselbergs.) Standing nearly 1,000 ft higher than any other mountain for 30 miles, Ralph Waldo Emerson and Henry David Thoreau both wrote about Mount Monadnock.

    About 2/3 of the way up

    We went 1614 ft almost straight up, going over exposed tree roots, hopping over cute streams, and scrambling up and down multiple boulder fields within the forest, until at last we got above tree line and it was just one large slab of stone to clamber over after another.

    Finding my route

    It took us two and a half hours to hike up and another hour and a half to get back down. We saw a few locals full-on billy-goat their way to and from the summit, but we chose the slow and steady route to accommodate Jeff’s dodgy ankle and my banged up shoulder and wrist, acquired at a slick spot on the way up. Our knees were speaking loud and clear by the time we reached the truck again.

    But man, oh man, that view

    I’m perpetually impressed by the tenacity of nature and of a plant’s determination to grow. My favorite find this trip was a strip of Three-Toothed Cinquefoil wayyyyy up near the top, settled happily into a seam.

  • Harrisville, NH

    It was an unseasonably cold morning and we had some free time, so we drove around on a whim and ended up in Harrisville, an old mill town that looks like it slid off a vintage postcard. After strolling the few short streets, we stopped for lunch at the Harrisville General Store where I asked a pleasant-looking woman at the next table what the town used to mill. I had chosen wisely. Not only did she tell us about the wool milling history of the town and the sheep farms that once surrounded it, but after a bit of chat, we found out that she’s our seasonal park ranger’s childhood best friend’s mom. (You get that?)

    In fact, our seasonal park ranger had grown up in the middle of tiny Harrisville, and this woman’s house was pretty much his second home! What are the odds? We had a good time talking all about it with him later that afternoon. It sounds like it was an amazing place to grow up. Small towns and small worlds.

    The first water-powered wool mill, placed by the Harris family
    Close up of the Harris Mill water gates

    We went back the next day to tour the town properly and follow their walking tour. We stopped inside Cheshire Mill Number 1 (built later by the Colony family) to check out the photos in the Historic Harrisville archives, but it was closed so we just wandered a bit to look at the the photos and exhibits lining the walls. On his way to something else, the man who has done the bulk of the restoration work on the town’s association-owned mills and buildings stopped to say hello and ask if we had any questions. Well, of course we did.

    Seeing that our interest was genuine, he told us about the history of the restoration process, the challenges they’ve faced restoring the buildings while also making them useable for modern use, detailed some terrifying close calls (like when a boiler came this close to exploding and taking the whole town with it), and repairing many of the “improvements” made to the structures over time. Let’s just say that structural support elements shouldn’t be removed willy-nilly. I could have listened to him for days. In the end, he passed us over to a coworker who he said knew the building’s mechanical systems better than anyone. She took us on a grand tour of Mill No. 1, explained the old and new generator systems, told us about some about the town’s interpersonal dynamics, and strongly encouraged us to come back to view things in the archives.

    Cheshire Mills No. 1 (stone) and No. 2 (brick)

    Fun fact, when it came time to restore Mill No. 1’s cupola, it weighed 9 tons as the crane removed it. It weighed 19 tons when restored to its original specs. Yes, that’s right, 10 tons of structural support material had been chopped out over time. It had acquired a serious tilt by the 1970s. It’s a true miracle that the cupola hadn’t already tumbled down. Mill No. 1 needed to be re-level through a series of incremental lifts, once the internal supports were reinstalled, to keep it from collapsing in upon itself.

    This large, sun-filled room in Mill No. 2 is used for community events and rentals.

    Like all their buildings, the namesake Harris family build simple, federalist-style homes from local red brick with twin fireplaces at either end. You see a version of this simple design in additional homes, large and small, throughout the village.

    Although the church and vestry (now the library) branched a bit into Greek revival, some of the underlying Harris structural elements are still there.

    A primary reason that Harrisville has attained federally recognized historical status is because a sizable portion of its employee housing remains intact. It’s easy to get interested in the impressive manufacturing buildings, the picturesque ponds, and the prodigious homes of the wealthy owners, but it’s worth remembering that it was the people who worked the looms, who carded the wool, and who kept the machines humming that made mill towns across New England thrive. Mill worker housing ranged from men’s and women’s dormitories, to small wood-framed worker’s cottages and duplexes, all the way up to red brick manager bungalows.

    Back at the trailer, I listened to the audio tour when I had better cell service. There are virtual and audio tour links here, if you’re interested in learning more about Harrisville.

    Stay curious, my friends.