Walking the Berkshires

"This is Not What I Meant When I Said I Wanted a Red Ryder!"

Winner by length, neck and nose, The Tourmarm ran away with the 15th Walking the Berkshires Family Archive Caption Contest:

"This is not what I meant when I said I wanted a Red Ryder!"

The sashaying Shetland was my Grandmother Athalia Barker's beloved pony "Max."  This was the nag that I and my cousins first learned to ride, which for all his small size was harder than it might seem.  Max could expand his barrel of a belly to a prodigious girth, thwarting all attempts to cinch a saddle.  He was just as likely to roll over as canter under a low hanging branch to rid himself of an impudent rider. In addition to the western saddle with the red wool blanket, he also pulled a pony cart, in which he was far less rambunctious.

Max was the primary lawnmower at Windrock during the 1970s.  There were shovels and a wheelbarrow instead to follow him about with and gather up excess manure.  In later years he preferred standing with his hind legs crossed, and he lived beyond 30.

Judging from the wide collar of my dress shirt, I'd say I was probably just finished with 3rd or 4th grade in this picture (1977-1978).  I am sure during the summer I only wore my red Keds when my feet were in stirrups.  Max and I are actually reined up rather near the bluff overlooking the bay, but I am certain that there was no risk of him deciding to plunge.  Not when the barn and the barrel of sweet feed lay in the other direction.  My stern expression may betray a suspicion that my rotund steed is poised to bolt.  Today the barn is filled with many things, including hay for my Aunt's horses at her home down at the end of Great Neck, but alas, no resident equine species. 

Top Shelf Offerings

Regular commenter David Corbett has asked so nicely to see more of my one guilty pleasure that I could hardly refuse.  Here, then, are some of the toy American Civil War soldiers in my personal collection.  I add to their ranks when I can and most recently acquired 9 figures from the "Brooklyn 14th" that have just been issued by The Collectors Showcase.  Like the rest of my collection, these are matte finished metal figures in 1:32 scale (54mm), but I have just started collecting from this manufacturer.  These particular pieces are extremely well done, historically accurate right down to the double row of brass buttons on their chasseur jackets. 

I found a central location for them on a shelf with other figures compatible with a depiction of the Battle of 1st Manassas (or Bull Run, if you prefer).  I've condensed the action considerably, but there are two Zouave units represented here: Company K of the 69th N.Y.S.M.by the discontinued Troiani Historical Miniatures company, and a recreation of a Don Troiani painting by Conte Collectibles depicting the 11th NY "Fire Zouaves" breaking under a charge by the 1st Virginia Cavalry, lead by a blue clad J.E.B. Stuart.  The 2nd Rhode Island in their light blue blouses also makes an appearance in two sets by Forward March, while an ordinance wagon pulled by a mule team from the venerable William Britain company withdraws from the line. I understand that Zouaves don't sell particularly well in this hobby, which I cannot understand as I am always looking for some of these colorful units done well by one or another manufacturer.  I had Abbott and Livingston ancestors in the 5th, 9th and 146th New York Zouaves, so it's personal.

In the late 1990s there was a renaissance in realistic, as opposed to "toy soldier" styles, which prior to then had been largely the domain of ultra expensive Russian manufacturers who did museum quality matte finished pieces and a few smaller operators.  W. Britains and Conte developed extensive Civil War lines during this period and I collected them heavily.  When lead sculptor Ken Osen left Britains for Conte, I followed, and when he moved on to Troiani and then helped launch Old Northwest Trading Company I collected those as well.  Now back with Britains, the quality and detail continues to excel.  You would think it might not be so difficult to get this historical period right, but many manufactures and sculptors fail to pull it off.  Conte has gotten almost cartoonish and grotesque in recent years and had trouble getting the paint right or staying in scale.  Britains went through a long dry spell before Richard Walker took over the reins and Ken Osen came back on board.

Collectors of high end Civil War toy soldiers tend to be found in US markets East of the  Mississippi.  There are a disproportionate number of figures representing the armies of the Eastern Theater of the war than those who fought in the West.  I am still hoping that Britians will issue a couple of Army of Tennessee flag bearers with the Hardee and Polk pattern flags.  I pulled together the scene at right using Iron brigade figures by Britains, Conte and Troiani with some additions figures by these manufacturers to represent Grant with some of his westerners. I tried to hide them from view, but you can just make out the red circle badge of the 1st Division, 1st Corps of the Army of the Potomac on the kepi of one of the officers.

Some genres lend themselves to uniform ranks or duplicate poses.  For the kind of money these cost, I have no desire to pay for the same figure twice.  Conte ill-advisedly released a Union and Confederate marching set of 6 figures in three poses, and I bought a split confederate set on eBay and passed on the Yanks.  Even if the same sculpts are used, a different paint job and a different head is all it would take to diversify the offerings, as some manufacturers have found.  Recycled poses are fine except when union cap badges end up on confederate heads.  I've got a lot of these now, feel entitled to be picky about what I add to the collection.

Of course, I have a wish list.  Besides the Zouaves and flag bearers already mentioned, the cavalry units in my collection are quite thin.  I'd like to see some of the Heavy Artillery regiments like the 1st ME or Litchfield's own 2nd CT that Grant converted to Infantry and fed into the furnace at Cold Harbor and Petersburg.  It is probably too much to ask for any of Gracie's Alabama Brigade, which would cover the confederate side of the family tree rather nicely.  There seem to be very few offerings of confederate NCOs who are doing something other than carrying flags.  The Civil War doesn't offer collectors the range of vehicles of all that WWII armor, but I'd like a caisson to go with the six horse team and limber that Britains put out early this decade, and maybe a sanitary commission ambulance and sutler's wagon.  Heck, I'd even go for a stampeding Congressman and his lady overtaken in their chaise after the rout at Bull Run.  Just not all at once.  I have to space out my purchases and stay on budget to keep my finances and my marriage afloat.  Here are a few more shots of what is on my top shelves that you may click to enlarge.

More: (April 1, 2008):  Welcome Artifacts Collectors.com readers!

   

Crone on Camel Creatively Captioned!

19 readers of Walking the Berkshires cast their vote in the 14th Family Archive Caption Contest.  8 (42.1%) of you,  supported the leading caption, while 6 (31.6%) supported the next most popular submission. 

As we had an exceptionally fine field (with a late write-in, no less), it was down to the wire until the polls closed today, but with no super-delegates to haggle over, this is a winner take all event.  It therefore gives me great pleasure to announce that Anthony Turner has prevailed with his classic offering:

"I'd Walk a Camel for a Smile."

This rather extraordinary image is my Great, Great grandmother Alice Jane (Greene) Barker on an Egyptian holiday at Giza in 1904.  She is clad in mourning for her late husband, Samuel Barker, Jr., who died the previous year.  She was accompanied on this trip by her son Lloyd (not to be confused with the criminal of that name), who had suffered from respiratory problems since childhood.

Now I have ridden on a camel in the the semi-desert of northwestern Namibia but never attempted to do so side-saddle, let alone clad from head to toe in heavy black.  Alice Jane Greene Barker was a published poet and an indomitable traveler, but this picture which my cousin Karen found recently is the first I was aware that she had sojourned to the Sphinx!  She also had very strong genes, as there is much in her facial features that strongly resembles her son Raymond H. Barker, Sr. and her grandson Robert H. Barker (my grandfather).

Aebleskiver

My old friend Janet filled me in on a Danish secret; "flat as a pancake" does not apply to Aebleskiver.  She has an impressive collection of cast iron cookware, and among them is an aebleskiver pan, essential for making golden, round pancake spheres filled with jam or fruit and traditionally served as a winter dessert.  We are great fans of pancakes in our house, and Sunday breakfast often features griddle cakes. Now they vie for our affection with Aebleskiver.

My ancestry is decidedly WASP of the British Isles persuasion, and though my Great-grandmother Ottilie Hubschmidt added a strong Germanic strain, she left us no legacy of spherical pancakes.  The Danes lay claim to Aebleskiver, which takes its name from the sliced apples commonly used as filling the apple shape of the pancake.  The Dutch, no slouches themselves when it comes to pancakes, call their version "Poffertjes".  I suspect the origin of round pancakes predates the invention of the Aebelskiver pan, for when we lived in southern Africa it was hard to resist larding ourselves with Afrikaner vetkoek: dough deep fried in oil. 

Aebleskiver are lighter, not too tart or sweet, but these are certainly not the sort of food one can gobble to one's heart's content without giving a thought to long term cardiovascular health.  So don't eat them every Sunday, but by all means do treat yourself to an Aebleskiver pan and expand your pancake horizons. 

The Aebleskiver pan, dimpled with seven 3-inch wells, eliminates the full immersion grease bath and allows for filling to be added. Ours is a small version and was quite inexpensive.  If it turns out you start making Aebleskiver frequently, I would opt for a larger, high sided version which will spare you some of the radiant heat from the burner.

The technique of making Aebleskiver is unusual and ingenious.  The batter and filling lend themselves to variation.   As a non-Danish practitioner of the art of the round pancake, I use a basic buttermilk pancake recipe modified as follows:

1/2 cup all purpose whole wheat flour

1/2 cup pastry flour

3/4 tsp baking powder

3/4 tsp baking soda

3 Tbsp melted butter

2 eggs (room temp)

1 1/2 cups buttermilk (room temp)

I combine the wet and dry ingredients in a lumpy batter and grease the skillet.  A dab of butter in each well gives them a golden finish and helps prevent sticking.  I pour the batter into each well about 3/4 full and let it bubble and rise.  At this point, I reach for that indispensable kitchen utensil which no Aebleskiver chef should be without; I mean, of course, a wooden chopstick. 

Yes, to make Aebleskiver requires rotating the underside of the pancake by 90°, and while others may be able to do this with a spatula, Janet convinced me that the end of a chopstick is ideal for loosening the edges and pushing down through the uncooked mixture to the crisper side and tilting it forward until the pancake stands on edge.  The batter will slide over and start to cook, and this is the moment to add a dab of filling.  I chose homemake apple butter yesterday, but also did a few plain ones and others filled with blueberries.  Once more I used my chopstick to turn each pancake over on itself and now they assumed their luscious rounded form.

Then it was out of the pan and on to the plate, with a dusting of powdered sugar above and a pool of amber maple syrup beneath.  My recipe makes approximately 30 Aebleskiver, and there were no leftovers.  We may one day experiment with a more savory batter and a meat or vegetable filling, but for use there is no finer treat on a cold winter morning than pancake balls and bacon.

Lt. Nathaniel Abbot(t) and Rogers' Rangers

The name Nathaniel goes a long way back in my family.  The youngest son of George Abbot(t), original   settler of Andover, Massachusetts, was the first of many Nathaniel Abbot(t)s in my paternal line, right down to my grandfather Nat Abbott (1911-1994).  But ours is not the only branch of the family to retain this name.  We descend from Joseph Abbot(t), the second son of that first Nathaniel, but the elder brother was named for his father.  This Nathaniel Abbot(t) (1696-1770) has interested me ever since I read about him in Abiel Abbot's Genealogical Register (1847) which includes the following entry:

"Nathaniel, Capt., an original proprietor in the town of Concord, N.H.; honest, respected, and beloved, and resolute in protecting the town, and defending the rights of his country.  In 1746, he commanded a company in defense of the town against the Indians.  He was a Lieutenant in the provincial service, in the expedition against Crown Point.  Moore, in his Annals of Concord, says, 'At the commencement of the French war, in 1744, he entered the service and joined the Rangers under Maj. Rogers.  He was at the capture of Cape Breton, in 1745; was subsequently in many of the sanguinary conflicts on the northern frontiers; and endured almost incredible hardships.  He held a commission in the corps of Rangers, and was in every station a brave and useful officer.'"

The problem with this glowing biography is that it has rather muddles Nathaniel Abbot(t)'s service history, confusing the chronology of events in King George's War (1744-1748) with those that took place during the French and Indian War (1754-1763).  Abbot(t) apparently served in both conflicts, but the commission in Roger's Rangers dates from 1756 when he was a remarkable 60 years of age and properly belongs later in the narrative than it appears above. 

Nathaniel Abbot(t) (1696-1770) was an early settler in Rumford, New Hampshire (modern Concord).  His father Nathaniel (1671-1749)  had previously helped to lay out a road from Andover up the Merrimack into New Hampshire, and by 1735 the son had moved there permanently.  In 1742 he was appointed to a committee to locate and build a school-house.  During King George's War he served as a Lieutenant in a Rumford company in the campaign against the great fortress of Louisburg at Cape Breton (during which his cousin Isaac Abbot died of disease) and was there when it fell in June 1745. 

Back at Rumford the following year, Abbot was a captain of a company of Rumford militia.  His family were assigned shelter in Lt. Jeremiah Stickney's garrison house in the event of attack by Indians, a real threat on the New Hampshire frontier.  A history of Concord recounts:

"In the stress of danger from an Indian attack, the persons 'stated' at the garrisons left their own houses, and repaired thither.  Men labored in the field, in companies, whenever practical, with guns at hand, and not infrequently with a mounted guard.  Three alarm guns from a fort announced approaching mischief, and put the settlement on the alert.  Every sabbath the men went armed and equipped to the log meeting-house, itself a fort, and stacking their muskets around the center post, sat down to worship 'with powder-horn and bullet pouch  slung across their shoulders' while Parson Walker officiated, with his gun - the best in the Parish - standing beside him in the Pulpit."

Attack came on August 11th, 1746, when a party of seven  men were ambushed by a large force of Indians and five were slain.  There were other alarms and attacks on individuals in the vicinity until the end of hostilities in 1748.

During the French and Indian War, New Hampshire sent 500 men under Colonel Joseph Blanchard to aid William Johnston in an expedition against the French at Crown Point.  Among these were a company commanded by Captain Joseph Eastman in which Nathaniel Abbot(t) was a Lieutenant.  They were in Johnson's camp at the Battle of Lake George (9/8/1755) and engaged in scouting for a month afterward until their term of service expired. 

The following year, Captain Robert Roger's established the first of his famous companies of Rangers, and shortly thereafter a second company was raised under his brother Richard Rogers with Nathaniel Abbot(t) as 2nd Lieutenant.  In 1757, this company was stationed at Fort William Henry on Lake George, where Captain Richard Rogers died of smallpox.  Lt. Abbot(t) was there for the siege and surrender of the Fort to Montcalm's army and survived the subsequent massacre made famous by James Fenimore Cooper in The Last of the Mohicans.  According to Fred Anderson's The Crucible of War, as many as 185 British and provincial soldiers and camp followers were killed after the surrender and between 300-500 were taken captive by the Indians.  Ironically, those Indians who dug up Roger's corpse to scalp it, however, unwittingly brought the scourge of smallpox back to their western villages along with their trophy.

It is an extraordinary record: one that stretches credulity were it not so widely attested.  Nowhere do I find evidence that his son, Nathaniel Abbot(t) (1727-1800) - described simply as "a respectable Farmer, Concord, N.H." - might have been the Lieutenant of the Rangers instead of his elderly father, but still I wonder.  After all, Nathaniel Abbot(t) is a popular name in our family, and it would be a simple enough thing to confuse one with the other.  For now, though, that's his story and I'm sticking with it. 

Lt. Nathaniel Abbot(t) (1696-1770) was my 7th Great-Uncle.

Winner, Family Archive Caption Contest #7

As promised, and suitable for framing, we have a winner for the 7th Walking the Berkshires Family Archive Caption Contest! 

My Great Grandmother Ottilie Frederika Hubschmitt (1874-1931) demos the hottest ladies swimwear of 1912, escorted by my Great grandfather Charles Henry Abbott (1872-1962) in dapper salt water bathing attire.

Extra points for anyone identifying the artist whose work provides the frame for this archive quality certificate of award.  Don't let the green shade distract you, and bear in mind that in the original work, the frame had contents.

Congrats to the Tour Marm!  Feel free to right click and download! 

Sharpen your wits and anticipate Contest #8. For those following along at home, the Tour Marm and Bill West have won this thing on two occasions!  Who will be the next champion?

Fathers and Sons (& Daughters)

Today Elias turns 4 years old.  My golden, freckled, blue eyed boy is a substantial weight in my arms, but not yet too heavy to carry upstairs to bed or hoist into the air for a shoulder ride.  Watching him grow makes me want to be a better parent, knowing I cannot spare him the buffets that life will send his way but hoping he will have the sweet, funny, sensitive approach to all that comes that serves him so well today.  He is on the cusp of pre-Kindergarten and has been ready for this all his life, it seems.  I watch and marvel and take comfort in the knowledge that generations before mine have felt the same, watching their young find their feet, and fly.

Emily turns seven in three and 1/2 weeks.  I can still carry her up the stairs, though I will soon be breathless trying to keep up with her.  Nothing makes one so aware of the passage of time, nor keeps you so young, as a growing child.

Happy Birthday, laughing boy. 

Oh Say Can You See / Francis Scott Key's / Homestead in DC?

Sadly, this is no longer possible.  The author of The Star Spangled Banner lived in this brick Georgetown residence in the District of Columbia from 1804 to about 1833, and it was his home during the period when he wrote what would one day become our national anthem. The site is now a small memorial park on M street near the Francis Scott Key Memorial Bridge, but the building itself no longer survives.  It was demolished in 1947 after years of neglect.

We have lost countless national treasures to the ravages of time and many have passed with barely a notice.  The Key home might have have had a future like the Betsy Ross House, or that of Mary Young Pickersgill, the Baltimore seamstress who made the flag that flew above Fort McHenry and inspired Key's stirring verse.  There actually was an effort made to save Key's Georgetown home, but it happened in the early days of the 20th century, thirty years before the old house was finally torn down.  Everything I know about it is contained in this certificate, presented to my gr-great Grandmother Rebecca (Osterhout) Johnson in recognition of her 1908 contribution to the Francis Scott Key Memorial Association to save the old Key home.

The certificate is unusual for several reasons.  It contains the only image I have been able to find of the old Key home, and a strikingly military portrait of the poet peering through a spyglass at "the rockets' red glare."  In fact, Key had a very brief military service - 30 days in the Georgetown Light Field Artillery company in 1813 and then the following year as an aide to General Winder at the Battle of Bladensburg.  He was not, as far as I am aware, in uniform when he went to the British to secure the release of his friend Dr. William Beanes, an American captive of the British, and was himself detained until operations against Baltimore were concluded.

More intriguing still is the text "'The Star Spangled Banner', our National Anthem." America did not have an official National Anthem until March 3, 1931 (46 Stat. 1508, codified at 36 USC §301) when Congress adopted Key's song.  There was, however, a concerted effort to have the Star Spangled Banner declared our National Anthem underway long before Herbert Hoover signed the bill into law:

"During the 19^th century, “The Star-Spangled Banner” became one of the nation’s best-loved patriotic songs. It gained special significance during the Civil War, a time when many Americans turned to music to express their feelings for the flag and the ideals and values it represented. By the 1890s, the military had adopted the song for ceremonial purposes, requiring it to be played at the raising and lowering of the colors. In 1917, both the army and the navy designated the song the “national anthem” for ceremonial purposes. Meanwhile, patriotic organizations had launched a campaign to have Congress recognize “The Star-Spangled Banner” as the U.S. national anthem."

Supporters of the Francis Scott Key Memorial Foundation clearly sided with those calling for the Star Spangled Banner as our National Anthem, a bit of "sympathetic magic", perhaps, as if stating the desire as fact would make it reality.  Though ultimately the effort to save the Key homestead was unsuccessful, the Star Spangled Banner is Key's most enduring legacy.

Homecoming: Millbrook Honors its 5th Headmaster

Yesterday on a sweltering afternoon within an ivied hall of Georgian brick, there was a ceremony to unveil this portrait of Millbrook School's 5th headmaster: my Dad, Don Abbott.  The event was part of the School's 75th anniversary celebration and one that my father approached with some trepidation.  Although he had been Millbrook's headmaster for 14 years (1976-1990), a graduate of the school himself and the son of one of its longest serving and highly respected faculty members, institutions and individuals have lives of their own and sometimes one takes a direction where the other cannot follow.  Millbrook the place and the school is right at the core of our family, and yet it has been 17 years since we lived there and it is no longer home, nor my Father's place now to lead.   

Dad is not someone who puts great stock in appearances or the trappings of success.  His real gift as the leader of the School community was inclusion, and an ability to value and relate to the individual no matter whether she taught AP calculus or drove the snowplow.  The idea of a gallery of headmasters,  from "The Boss" - Ed Pulling, the Founder of the School - down through his successors, is a relatively new one for Millbrook and not entirely comfortable for Dad.  Portraits are loaded with meaning but what meant more to my parents about their tenure at the School was the spirit of the place and the difference that this learning community made in the lives of those it touched.  Dad spoke about that spirit yesterday and grounded it in gratitude to Ed Pulling, who told him as a young man whom he had known from boyhood, now returning to the school as Headmaster:

"that we must look ahead and move forward without undue loyalty to the past.  He gave us our roots, but then he granted us the gracious freedom, as only the best teacher can, to go on ahead and join others in trying to articulate the meaning of those roots for the next generation."

Dad put in words what he had 30 years ago felt empowered to articulate:

"(T)he cornerstone of Millbrook's comprehensive curriculum became the intellectual conjoining of three moral concerns - community service and social responsibility, active concern for the natural environment, and the development of a global perspective.  We believed it was our responsibility to teach and learn what non sibi sed cunctis* means for the complex, interdependent and threatened world we now have fully entered."

* the motto of the school, suggested by my grandfather Nat Abbott and translated: "Not for oneself, but for the benefit of all"

For a person with this outward focus and so much of himself dedicated to being the kind of educator who  emphasizes the awakened curiosity and growth of others, the honor of a formal portrait prompted conflicting emotions.  One hopes to be recognized for what one values about oneself and feels to have been significant contributions, and it would take a particularly sensitive and skillful portrait-artist to capture those qualities for my father.

He was extremely fortunate to be able to work with an exceptional artist and a fine human being who understood that to portray the spirit of his subject meant taking time with the person whose likeness he would captured in oil. Chas Fagan is a gifted sculptor as well as a nationally renowned landscape and portrait artist,  and each of these forms of artistic expression seem to animate the shape and form of my Dad's thoughts and personality in his portrait. It is a skillfully rendered painting, but those who know my father well find that what brings the image to life is his signature upraised eyebrow as he looks up from his reading  to give the viewer his complete attention and interest.

A scanned image can only suggest the technical elements of the painting itself, but as an insider I find myself drawn to its composition as well.  Dad is seated in one of the Shaker chairs of my parents' dining room set, but it has been moved to a corner of their living room.  On the shelf behind him is a picture of my Mom from the late 1980s - and throughout their marriage of 41 years they have been an inseparable team.  I can also see some of the clay African figures we brought back to Mom from Zimbabwe, and the painting on the wall in the upper right hand corner is a Woldemar Neufeld painting of the culvert and bridge over the wetlands at the entrance to the School.  Dad tells me the book he was reading was Wendell Berry.

The real blessing yesterday was not the honor of this portrait, as humbled and gratified as I know my parents feel, but a reconnection with people and with the school that affirmed in unmistakable terms that there is a place for them in Millbrook School today. The entrance hall to the Schoolhouse was packed with current and former faculty, staff, parents, students, friends and trustees.  It was good to see my parents among so many members of the school community who value what they gave to Millbrook, and I smiled to see them at peace in a place that was central in their lives for many years and a time that continues to shape the outward focus of their lives.

Shades of Decoration Day

On this Memorial Day weekend when we honor those who served in our nation's wars, I recall my ancestors (both near relations and more distant) who fought during the American Civil War.  The predecessor to Memorial Day was Decoration Day, with origins claimed by both North and South and even by the African American community in war-ravaged Charleston, SC. I include in this roster the Confederates in the family as well as those who wore the Federal Blue and fought to preserve the Union (or for personal reasons of their own).

Nathaniel B. Abbott:  Drummer, Company K, 133rd New York Volunteer Inf. (2nd Metropolitans) 1862-1863; Company A, 10th Regiment, Veteran Reserve Corps (V.R.C.) 1863-1865.  (He was left behind sick with Typhoid at Fortress Monroe when his regiment sailed to join Banks in Louisiana and was discharged 1/3 disabled in February, 1863.  He reenlisted in the V.R.C in June, 1863 and served until November, 1865.  Family tradition has him beating the long roll at Lincoln's funeral)

[He was my Gr-great Grandfather on the Abbott side.]

Theodore F. Abbott:  Private, Company A, 9th New York Volunteer Inf. (Hawkin's Zouaves) 1861-1863 (He was wounded at Roanoke Island, 1862)

[ He was my Gr-gr-great Uncle on the Abbott side, the brother of Nathaniel Abbott]

Samuel Barker, Jr.:  Private, Company G, 37th Wisconsin Volunteer Inf. 1865 (He enlisted underage in March 1865).

[ He was my Gr-great grandfather on the Barker side.]

Charles G. Johnson:  Wagoner, Company B, 5th New York Volunteer Inf. (Duryea's Zouaves) 1861-1863; Wagoner, Company G., 146th New York Volunteer Inf. (Garrard's Tigers) 1863, 1864; Wagon master; 1st Division (Griffin's), Vth Corps, Army of the Potomac 1864 (Enlisted for 3 years, served 2 years with 5th New York from Big Bethel to Chancellorsville, transferred with 3 years men to 146th New York and served with this unit from Gettysburg to North Anna)

[ He was my step Great-great Grandfather on the Livingston side.]

Jesse M. Jones: Hospital Steward, U.S.S. "Monitor" 1862.  (Served during the epic battle of the Ironclads at Hampton Roads, VA, discharged in October 1862 before the "Monitor" was lost off Cape Hatteras, NC)

[ He was the first husband of my step Gr-great grandmother (2nd wife of Nathaniel Abbott) on the Abbott side.]

William N. Olmsted:  Private, 7th New York State Militia 1861 (Served 30 days in the defense of Washington, D.C. at the outbreak of hostilities.)

[ He was my Gr-great grandfather on the Olmsted side.]

William Taylor:  Trooper, company A, 1st New York Volunteer Cav. (Lincoln Cavalry) 1861 (fell from horse during training in October 1861 and discharged disabled, died of complications from injury in 1864).

[ He was my Gr-gr-great Grandfather on the Livingston side.]

And then there were those who fought for the South:

Archibald Gracie, Jr.: Captain, Washington Infantry of Mobile 1860-1861; Captain, 3rd Alabama Volunteer Inf. C.S.A.; Major, 11th Alabama Volunteer Inf. C.S.A. 1861-1862; Colonel, 43rd Alabama Volunteer Inf. C.S.A. 1862; Brigadier General, Gracie's Brigade 1862-1864.  (Wounded at Beans Station, TN 1863, KIA Petersburg December 2, 1864)

[He was my Gr-gr-great Uncle, brother of Esther Gracie on the Ogden side.]

Charles H. Olmstead:  Major, Lt. Colonel and Colonel, 1st South Carolina Volunteers, C.s.A. 1861-1865 (He commanded Fort Pulaski and reinforced Fort Wagner during the first assault.)

[He was 2nd cousin to my Gr-gr-great grandfather Edward Olmsted, so my 2nd cousin 5th times removed on the Olmsted side.]

Modern words do not adequately express what these me thought and did, why they fought and what the sacrificed.  I honor in them what I do not fully comprehend, knowing that all was not as it appears in rose-tinted memory.  Better to let the words of Abraham Lincoln speak for themselves:

"Four score and seven years ago, our fathers brought forth upon this continent a new nation: conceived in liberty, and dedicated to the proposition that all men are created equal.

Now we are engaged in a great civil war...testing whether that nation, or any nation so conceived and so dedicated...can long endure.  We are met on a great battlefield of that war.

We have come to dedicate a portion of that field as a final resting place for those who here gave their lives that that nation might live.  It is altogether fitting and proper that we should do this.

But in a larger sense, we cannot dedicate...we cannot consecrate...we cannot hallow this ground.  The brave men, living and dead, who fought here have consecrated it, far better than our poor power to add or detract.  The world will little note, nor long remember, what we say here, but it can never forget what they did here.  It is for us the living, rather, to be here dedicated to the unfinished work which they who fought here have thus far so nobly advanced.

It is rather for us to be here dedicated to the great task remaining before us...that from these honored dead we take increased devotion to that cause for which they gave the last full measure of devotion...that we here highly resolve that these dead shall not have died in vain...that this nation, under God, shall have a new birth of freedom...and that the government of the people, by the people...for the people...shall not perish from the Earth."