"Roundheads and Ramblings"
Travelog
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Posted on Friday, March 16, 2012 4:39 PM
This is the second part of a conversation between Rev. Solomon Peck, an early abolitionist teacher and missionary to Beaufort, SC, and Miss Susan Walker, who came with another group called the Gideonites.
"All right. I'm ready to
believe anything now. Why the two front
rooms?"
"A gentleman's parlor and a lady's parlor, of course. The lady's parlor is on the opposite side of
the central hallway from the dining room, because the ladies depart from a
dinner first, and they don't want the men traipsing through their room to get
to their own sitting area. The
gentlemen linger over brandy and cigars, and then move to their own parlor,
which is connected to the dining room. There they can tell ribald stories
without offending the gentler souls. The
room behind the ladies' parlor, by the way, is usually used for the planter's
office, or as a family sitting room."
"All that sounds most refined, but where's the kitchen? You know
as well as I that in New England, the kitchen becomes the heart of a
home."
"Of course it does. That's
the only warm spot much of the year.
Here, cold's not all that severe.
The bigger problem is fire. Southerners have a separate cook house, out
in the slave quarters, which fill the back yard. All food is cooked there and brought into the
dining room, so there's no danger of dinner boiling over and burning the whole
house down. At most, in the really
elegant houses, there may be a separate warming room, in the cellar, directly
below the dining room. Dishes can be
kept warm there, and then brought up the back stairs to be served."
"But that arrangement means you would need a whole staff of
servants to cook and deliver meals, and. . . . Oh!"
Again, Reverend Peck smiled at Susan.
"You just realized why this is a slave-based economy, didn't
you?"
"Yes! I guess I did."
"The houses here were staffed by a separate group of hand-picked
slaves -- the most intelligent, the most domesticated, the most obedient ones
they could find. The house slaves had to
be absolutely trustworthy and devoted to their owner families, because they
were entrusted with the upkeep of the homes while the families were out at the
plantations.
"That scheme worked fairly well when life moved at its normal
slow rate, and everyone knew when the master and his family would be in
residence. But when the planters and
their families fled, when the Union Army marched in and told the slaves they
were free, when the world was turned upside down, the scheme fell apart. We are left with the framework of a slave
society, but not the wherewithall to use it as it was meant to be used.
"Without slaves, how do you get by?"
"Well, in my case, I didn't need a great deal of cooking, because
I didn't plan to entertain. But I had to hire an old black woman to cook for
me, in exchange for her room in the old slave quarters. And when I do have company -- as now -- she
brings some of her relatives around to help."
"So you're really still using slave labor?"
"No. I'm paying ex-slaves to work as my employees. There's a huge moral difference."
"All right. Of course
there is. But I wonder. Do they see it that way, or do they see you
as the new Massa?"
"A good question, and one you will have to answer for
yourself. And make no mistake. You fervent abolitionists will have to use
the ex-slaves to work for you, too. The way this whole city was structured, you
won't find any white workmen. We employ the
blacks because there's no other way to get work done. Most of the confusing
elements you see now in the city of
Beaufort are the direct result of the war.
Not all damage is caused by guns.
Sometimes the worst damage is caused by the rending of the social
fabric."
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Posted on Thursday, March 15, 2012 7:26 PM
 I have some heavy "stuff" coming up in the next couple of weeks, so I've decided to fill in blog posts with replays of some of the outtakes from my current work-in-progress. This post and the next deal with the kinds of houses one can still find in Beaufort, SC.
"Let me tell you about a typical Beaufort house. The house itself
stands on a large lot, frequently has a formal garden, and is oriented to take
full advantage of the prevailing southwesterly breezes. The planter families
indulged their taste for expensive luxuries by building elaborate mansions, and
there were always rivalries to see who could have the most Italian marble and
mahogany woodwork installed. Their houses are likely to have very high
ceilings, gilded cornices, wainscoting, ceiling medallions, and suspended
crystal chandeliers -- anything that helps make the rooms feel light and airy. You'll see why that is desirable once we get
into the summer months, by the way. Oh, and all of the main rooms have
fireplaces for heating during the winter, which creates a whole cluster of
chimneys on the roof. Sometimes they,
too, are so decorative that they almost look like spires.
Susan sighed. "I suppose for us Northerners, it is really
impossible to understand what that pre-war life must have been like. I can't even figure out the living
arrangements. There are too many rooms,
or not enough, or something. There
aren't enough bedrooms for a normal house. And there's no kitchen, just a
dining room, along with two or three identical sitting rooms."
"Ah, now you're talking about Southern architecture. The design probably started out as a simple
plantation house, with a central hall, two rooms up and two rooms down. The extensions to the back came later. Most of
them have a central hallway, upstairs and down, and the house itself is
T-shaped, with the crosspiece in the back. In a house like this, there are two
bedrooms upstairs at the front of the house, corresponding to the parlors
below. Then, across the back, and above
the rear rooms, there's a sleeping porch.
A whole family may sleep out there in the summer months."
"I've seen some beautiful houses already. And some of them just seem to sparkle. I haven't been able to figure out what they
are made of."
Well, because of the heat and humidity for a great part of the year,
it's best to have thick walls. So
builders prefer stone, which we don't have a lot of, or brick, which can be
made by the field hands inn the off season, or better yet, tabby." "Tabby? What's that?"
"It's a mixture of sand, crushed oyster shells, lime, and
water. Poured into forms, it hardens
into an almost indestructible building material. Depending on how many oyster shells are in
the mix, it can glisten in the sunlight. It's a bit like building a house out
of a beach." "I've also notice the wide porches."
"Most of our houses have a two-story piazza, frequently extending
partially around three sides of the house. The side piazzas have stuccoed piers
or arches, left open for ventilation. There may, however, be a formal porch at the front entrance.
Those are usually supported by Greek columns, with Ionic capitals on the first
level and Corinthian capitals on the
second story. Most of the houses have an understory that is used by the staff
for storage. And the raised elevation
is also a benefit when storms blow in and the tide comes in too far. Many
houses have two elegant sets of stairs leading up to the main entrance and the
main living areas."
"I've noticed that, too. Why do they need two sets of
stairs?"
"Hoop skirts." Reverend Peck smiled and waited for her to
react.
"What? I can see why the stairs might need to be wider than usual,
but . . . ."
"Picture a Southern belle in full hoops going up the steps, with
a gentleman following behind her. Her
ankles are likely to be on display as the hoop swings."
"Oh, for heaven's sakes!
You mean they had lady's stairs and gentleman's stairs?"
"That's exactly what I mean.
Southern through and through."
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Posted on Sunday, March 11, 2012 5:05 PM
I don't usually post photo essays here, but tonight I have to make an exception, as a "Thank You" note to Walmart. Now, don't get me wrong. I do not -- and have never -- liked Walmart's business practices. Their treatment of employees and suppliers is sometimes shameful. But once in a while, they do something wonderful. And this is one of those times.
Walmart recently gave a sizeable donation to a charity for which I am the incoming president. We were also able to arrange to hold our quarterly meeting in Bentonville, Arkansas, and to tour the new Crystal Bridges Art Museum there. It is a mammouth undertaking, financed wholey or in large part, by Walmart. Much of the art comes from the Walton Family's personal collection. And currently there is no admission charge.
 The museum is a free-form structure, full of glass and natural wood, suspended over crystal clear pools of water. This photo was taken from outside and above the main structure. The galleries are four stories below.
My husband and I spent most of Friday wandering through the exhibits, drinking in the natural setting that is visible through out the museum, eating amazing food in the museum restaurant, and gasping at some of the originals that hang casually here within easy access. Even the rules were generous and welcoming: Sure, take pictures of our art; just don't use a flash. And please don't touch the actual paintings; stay 18" away.
 So here are some of the scenes. Enjoy.
This metal (aluminum? stainless steel?) tree greets visitors at the door.
A flat, but three-dimensional room made entirely of wood. ( A tromp de wood?)
Two views of the same sculpture along one of the walking trails outside. Both pictures were taken from glass hallways between galleries.
 The pure simplicity of the galleries allows amazing privacy -- a chance to study the paintings unbothered by other patrons.
 Meet the original Rosie the Riveter.
Or the original Pinocchio.
Or stumble upon a scene like this. The spot is a hallway where the windows have been shaded, allowing the sunlight outside to reflect off the water surrounding the passageway and paint its own portrait on the translucent wall. That's a real person, by the way, taking the same picture I was trying to get.
If you ever find yourself in northwest Arkansas, this is a spot not to be missed. It has the potential to develop into one of our country's finest museums.
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Posted on Wednesday, September 07, 2011 9:01 AM
When I named this blog site, I chose "Roundheads" because I was writing about my Civil War favorites, the 100th Pennsylvania Volunteer Regiment. My Twitter ID, "Roundheadlady" came from the fact that I was the only woman writing about them. My great uncle James McCaskey was a sergeant in that regiment, and the heroine of Beyond All Price was Nellie Chase, the regiment's nurse. I meant the "Ramblings" part of the name to refer to my verbal ramblings as I discussed whatever topic caught my fancy. Unfortunately, the world seems to have taken me all too literally. This Roundheadlady has some actual rambling to do, and it's going to play havoc with my writing schedule. You are hereby warned.
Somehow I have managed to over-schedule the next 28 days of my life. In that 4-week period, I will be spending 16 nights in 9 different hotels. Travel arrangements include 2 road trips, 4 flights, a train ride, and 3 bus trips. I'm attending 3 conferences: one huge one (2000 people) where I'll be seeing dozens of good friends; one medium one (150 people) where I won't know a soul; one small one (50 people) where I'll know everyone. There will be 3 formal banquets, and 5 other dinner meetings. I will be presiding over 3 Lions Club meetings and attending 2 others. I'm also scheduled to participate on a conference panel, give a TV interview, and do a book signing. I'm hoping for time to visit with a long-lost cousin, check a family cemetery, see a grizzly bear or a moose, and discover gold.
Luckily I have two people to help out along the way -- a cooperative husband to do some of the driving and the heavy lifting of books and suitcases, and a wonderful cat sitter who will keep the home fires burning and the feline members of the family fed, groomed, medicated, and suitably pampered.
What I will NOT have is the opportunity to keep this blog rolling during September. I'm hoping for occasional internet access for Twittering, Facebook updating, and checking e-mail, but there will be days -- and one entire week -- when even that will be impossible. If you subscribe to this feed, don't despair. I'll be back in four weeks. In the meantime, catch up now and then on Twitter or Facebook. If you're desperate for a good read, jump over and check out my other occasional blog, " On the Road to Frogmore," where I've been posting some outtakes from my work-in-progress.
Thanks for following so faithfully, and even more thanks for understanding my need to take a short break. I'll be back in October with news about my trips and a report on the progress of my self-publishing handbook. Until then, stay safe, everyone, and keep reading and writing!
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Posted on Friday, April 29, 2011 9:10 AM
Just a mile or so down the road from the Brick Church, we found the ruins of another place of worship associated with the Gideonites and slaves of St. Helena Island. This Episcopal Church was built in 1748 to serve the white plantation owners of the island. Unike the Brick Church, it made no provision for the slaves to worship there, giving it the name of "The White Church." That policy also meant that when the church was abandoned in 1861, the black population made no attempt to re-open it.
The White Church had one feature, however, that drew the attention of some of the Gideonites. Its organ still worked, and the some of the missionaries began using the building as a social gathering place on Sunday afternoons, where they could listen to music or have a sing-along. Those gatherings lasted until a group of Union soldiers from the 24th Massachusetts regiment discovered the organ and carried it off to their camp.
By 1863, during a cantankerous debate among the missionaries over the meaning of communion, the church took on a more unfortunate function. While some of the Unitarian teachers, like Laura Towne, believed in "open communion" for black and white parishioners alike, others advocated a "closed communion." When communion was offered to the freedmen at the Brick Church, the closed communion group left the building and went to The White Church to hold their own sacrament. How ironic it might have seemed, had the advocates of abolition who came to the island to help the freed slaves realized that they were actually creating a tradition of segregation. (And I'll step off my soapbox, now!)
 There are other features of interest on the grounds of The Chapel of Ease. When the church burned during a forest fire in the late 19th century, its bricks and woodwork disappeared, but the tabby skeleton of the church stands strong, giving us a glimpse of the permanence of that construction material. Tabby is a mixture of convenience, combining lime and water with the ever-present supply of sand and oyster shells on the island. The result is a type of concrete that sparkles in the sun and remains impervious to wind and rain.
 The remains of a mausoleum are also located in the cemetery of The Chapel of Ease. The structure, erected in 1853, at one time contained the remains of three members of the Fripp family. Today, the door stands open and the tombs are empty. Local lore says that Union soldiers were also responsible for this destruction because they needed the slabs on top of the tombs to serve as operating tables for their wounded. I've not been able to verify that explanation, but I admit it sounds a bit better than simple vandalism.
We had a fantastic trip to Beaufort, and now that I've shared a few of the high-lights with you, it's time to get back to writing. The sights and sounds, the stink of pluff mud and the sting of "no-see-ums," the narrow streets and massive plantation houses, the gossip and the superstitions, the dangling Spanish moss, the looming oak trees, and the ever-changing tides will all find their way into my next book, as will the places we've just visited.
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