Tuesday, December 10, 2019

For $45, did Georgia collector purchase Antietam history?

The photo of a Connecticut soldier bears a striking resemblance to 11th Connecticut Capt. John Griswold,
shown in an illustration from a book published in 1868. Griswold was mortally wounded at Antietam.
(Robert Wayne Elliott collection | Right: The Military and Civil History of Connecticut, The War of 1861-65)

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A war-time photograph of 11th Connecticut Captain John Griswold, object of my nearly decade-long search, finally may have surfaced. Unsurprisingly, the purported image of the officer mortally wounded at Antietam popped up on social media -- on Facebook's Civil War Faces page -- on Monday afternoon.

(Thank you, Mark Zuckerberg. Now about those political ads.)

Carte-de-visite, probably John Griswold, won on an eBay auction.
(Robert Wayne Elliott collection)
Robert Wayne Elliott, a 71-year-old retired commercial pest control account manager from Grayson, Ga., recently submitted the winning bid on eBay for a war-time carte-de-visite of a Connecticut soldier. Elliott, who believed before he bid that the image was Griswold, figured the CDV would go for perhaps $500 if someone connected it to a soldier who was killed at Antietam. His winning bid: $45.

The eBay seller, Elliott told me, said the image came from an album of 11th and 16th Connecticut soldiers, two of the four regiments from the state that fought at Antietam. Elliott's detective work included a visit to this 2011 post on Griswold on my blog. He compared the CDV to an illiustration of Griswold, which originally appeared in this 1868 book on Connecticut's Civil War role.

"I believe, without a doubt, this is Griswold," Elliott said.

Although not definitive proof, the illustration bears a strong resemblance to the soldier in Elliott's CDV, which has a backmark of a Hartford photographer. The 11th Connecticut organized in Hartford in late October 1861.

Elliott, a Civil War-era photograph collector since 1999, owns only has a handful of Union images. The Georgia native, whose ancestors fought for the 42nd Georgia, collects mostly Confederate photographs. Among his collection is a beautiful, post-war painting of 20th Georgia Lieutenant Arthur C. Ford, who was severely wounded at Burnside Bridge. Perhaps Ford, a dentist as a civilian, was among the Georgians who fired on Griswold from the bluffs along Antietam Creek.

       The 11th Connecticut attacked from right to left across this field on Sept. 17, 1862.
   Antietam Creek is at left, behind trees. (Click at upper right for full-screen experience.)

View John Griswold may have had of Burnside Bridge on  morning of Sept. 17, 1862.
               PANORAMA: Confederates' view of Burnside Bridge and Antietam Creek. 
                                     (Click at upper right for full-screen experience.)     

My interest in Griswold began in 2011, when I first came across his heart-rending story.

The 11th Connecticut had been ordered to storm Rohrbach Bridge (Burnside Bridge) and the Confederate position beyond on the morning of Sept. 17, 1862. Impatient, Griswold, a 25-year-old captain from Lyme, Conn., boldly led a group of skirmishers across the 4-foot deep creek.

It was a deadly move.

Backmark on Elliott's
"In the middle of the creek a ball penetrated his body," Griswold's friend, Dr. Nathan Mayer of the 11th Connecticut, wrote in a letter from Sharpsburg to his brother on Sept. 29, 1862. "He reached the opposite side and lay down to die."

In an account written decades after the war, 11th Connecticut veteran Philo Pearce wrote:

"Our Capt. John Griswold was a brave man and jumped over the fence saying ‘come on boys!’ I, with some others, did jump. As we did, we got a volley of shots from the Rebel line. I had a ball cut through the top of my left side but did not cut the flesh. I fell into the road ditch where it had been plowed and scraped. This surely saved my scalp. Now it was time to do our duty. Capt. Griswold was hit and he rushed into the creek and kept plunging ahead until he got across. He shouted for us to come and get him but we had our hands full."

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Save Historic Antietam Foundation:
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Mayer claimed he summoned four privates, and together they forded the creek and climbed a fence while under fire to reach Griswold. The men carried the blood-soaked captain to a nearby small shed, Mayer wrote, where the surgeon from Hartford gave his "ashly pale" friend morphine to ease his pain. Griswold died the next day, probably on the Henry Rohrbach farm, a IX Corps hospital.

When I lived in Connecticut, I visited Griswold's gravestone in a small, private cemetery cemetery in Old Lyme. The ornately carved marker is a work of art. And during many visits to Antietam over the years, I've walked in Griswold's footsteps, wondering about the remarkable courage the captain summoned on Sept. 17, 1862.

Elliott has visited Antietam three times. His most recent trip, in 2016, was especially eventful.

"I stepped up on Burnside Bridge with my camera to take some shots," he said. "Then I stepped backwards and fell off bridge flat on my back and literally knocked myself out. ... A group of school kids there said, 'Oh, my gosh. Is he OK?'"

Back in Georgia two days later, Elliott was in pain from the fall. By the third day, he said, "I thought I was dying." Thankfully, good meds and rest saved him.

And, thankfully, a descendant of Rebel soldiers may have saved an image of a Connecticut Yankee. Keeping history alive is what it's all about.

John Griswold's final resting place in Griswold Cemetery in Old Lyme, Conn. His
monument was described as "strikingly beautiful" in the Hartford Courant on Aug. 5, 1863.
A post-war painting of 20th Georgia Lieutenant Arthur C. Ford, who was severely wounded
in the right side during the fighting at Burnside Bridge on Sept. 17, 1862. Did he fire on John Griswold?
(Robert Wayne Elliott collection)

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--Hartford Courant, Oct. 6, 1862, Page 2

An early morning visit to Burnside Bridge at Antietam

Tuesday, December 03, 2019

From Antietam to Shiloh, my 25 favorite 2019 photos

"The world is a book and those who do not travel read only a page."

 -- Saint Augustine

LOOKOUT MOUNTAIN, CHATTANOOGA, TENN: Reenactor Todd Watts of Nashville. 
ANTIETAM (MD.) BATTLEFIELD: 132nd Pennsylvania monument at Bloody Lane. 
ANTIETAM (MD.) BATTLEFIELD: Sunrise at the Samuel Mumma farm.
LEXINGTON, VA.: Lee Chapel, Washington and Lee campus. (READ POST.)
SHILOH (TENN.) BATTLEFIELD: Trapper Haskins, vintage baseball league player.
CHICKAMAUGA (GA.) BATTLEFIELD: Confederate Brigadier General Bushrod Johnson monument. 
ANTIETAM (MD.) BATTLEFIELD: Early morning at Dunker Church.
LOOKOUT MOUNTAIN, CHATTANOOGA, TENN.: Marker near the Cravens House, vortex of battle.
SHILOH (TENN.) BATTLEFIELD: Union brigade headquarters marker.
SAVANNAH, TENN.: Ulysses Grant headquarters site before the Battle of Shiloh.
ANDERSONVILLE, GA.: Site of  infamous deadline at the notorious POW camp. (READ POSTS.)
SHILOH (TENN.) BATTLEFIELD: Close-up of old, cast-iron marker for Confederate unit. (READ POST.)
ANTIETAM (MD.) BATTLEFIELD: William McKinley monument near Burnside Bridge.
CROSS KEYS (VA.) BATTLEFIELD: James Madison University professor Ken Rutherford,
a landmine explosion survivor. (READ MY CIVIL WAR TIMES COLUMN.)
RESACA, GA.: 83-year-old reenactor Jere McConnell. (READ MY CIVIL WAR TIMES COLUMN.)
SHELBYVILLE, TENN.: Bronze plaque on grave of Sumner Cunningham, founder and publisher 
of Confederate Veteran magazine, at Willow Mount Cemetery.  (READ POST.)
LEXINGTON, VA.: Lee Chapel on Washington and Lee campus. (READ POST.)
LEXINGTON, VA.: Stonewall Jackson statue at Virginia Military Institute.
SHILOH (TENN.) BATTLEFIELD: Monument for Union brigade headquarters. (READ POST.)
WHITES CREEK, TENN.: Tennessee Association of Vintage Baseball game. Love Norman Rockwell-like
quality of this image. League plays by Civil War-era rules. (READ MY AMERICA'S CIVIL WAR STORY.)
FORT PILLOW, TENN.: An attacking Confederate's view of the fort. (READ POST.)
ANTIETAM (MD.) BATTLEFIELD: 11th Connecticut monument near Burnside Bridge.
CORINTH, MISS.: Statue at contraband camp.
FRANKLIN, TENN.: Half-dozen red roses on grave of 16th South Carolina Private Hembry Chapman 
 at McGavock  Confederate Cemetery. Chapman, killed at the Battle of Franklin, was 17 or 18. 
His brother also is buried here. (CLICK ON ALL IMAGES TO ENLARGE.)

-- My favorite photos of 2017 and 2018
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Monday, December 02, 2019

Killed at Antietam, Georgia captain wanted horse 'fast as hell'

6th Georgia Captain John Guinn Hanna was killed at Antietam on Sept. 17, 1862.
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While exploring a Missionary Ridge neighborhood in Chattanooga, Tenn., recently, I met Neal Thompson, a gregarious, semi-retired attorney with a gift for storytelling. The 70-year-old Tennessee native has deep Southern roots: Ancestors in the 5th Tennessee survived the Federal assault on the southern end of Missionary Ridge on Nov. 25, 1863, a little more than a mile from his house.

I enjoyed visiting with semi-retired attorney Neal Thompson, who
lives on Missionary Ridge in Chattanooga, Tenn, 
John Guinn Hanna, another of Thompson's Confederate ancestors, wasn't as fortunate. The 27-year-old captain in Company B of the 6th Georgia -- the "Lookout Dragoons" -- was killed at Antietam on Sept. 17, 1862. At about 8:30 that morning, the 6th Georgia was in the northeast corner of David R. Miller's cornfield when two Ohio regiments closed unobserved within 30 yards of their line. According to a post-war history:
It was but a moment before the Captain [Hanna] of the 6th Georgia approached Lieutenant Colonel [James] Newton and reported that they were being flanked and instantly both the Captain and Newton were killed by the first volley of the 66th Ohio.
Hanna and his wife Virginia had a 2-year-old son named William, who died less than two months after John was killed in Maryland. Although Captain Hanna has a marker in a family cemetery in Rising Fawn, Ga., his remains apparently were never returned to his native soil.

In the kitchen of his house on Missionary Ridge, Thompson showed me photographs of his ancestors. His late father, who loved history, compiled information on Hanna -- a signed copy of a request for clothing for his men, copies of regimental returns and other documentation.

On June 27, 1862, Hanna was wounded at the Battle of Gaines' Mill, near Richmond, where he recuperated in a hospital. Weeks before he died, Hanna wrote a letter to his father back in Rising Fawn, requesting a horse that was "fast as hell" to replace another that was shot and killed under him.

No word if he got the horse.

Thankfully, the copy of the image above of Hanna, looking resplendent in his officer's uniform, survives.

And Neal Thompson proudly shares it with us.

Thompson poses with battle artifacts found in his Missionary Ridge neighborhood in Chattanooga, Tenn.

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-- Carman, Ezra Ayers, and Dr. Thomas G. Clemens, editor, The Maryland Campaign of September 1862, 3 volumes, El Dorado Hills (CA): Savas Beatie, 2010-17, Vol. II, pg. 137;

Friday, November 29, 2019

'Bodies were everywhere': My visit to killing field at Franklin

Once occupied by a small strip mall and house, this hallowed ground at Franklin is now preserved as a
 battlefield park. The cannons mark position of a Union battery. Stones mark the line of Union earthworks.
NOTE: This story was reported and written in spring 2018. 

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It's not difficult to understand why the Battle of Franklin (Tenn.) remained seared in the minds of those who fought there. The fighting on Nov. 30, 1864, was one of the most concentrated slaughters of the Civil War, with hundreds falling dead and wounded on the farm of 67-year-old Fountain Branch Carter.

"It was awful!" a Confederate recalled of the five-hour battle. "The ditch at the enemy's line — on the right and left of the [Columbia] pike — was literally filled with dead bodies lying across each other, in all unseemly deformity of violent death." Another Confederate veteran remembered standing in a ditch with "blood to the depth of shoe soles."

Bullet-scarred outbuildings on the old Carter farm are testament
to the ferocity of the fighting here on Nov. 30, 1864.
Every time I read the terrible recollections of soldiers and others about the savagery of the fighting near Carter’s house and outbuildings -- thankfully preserved today -- I wince.

“In trying to clean up,” Carter’s son, Moscow, said years after the battle, “I scraped together a half bushel of brains right around the house, and the whole place was dyed with blood.“

Pitiless bulldozers and developers long ago turned the hallowed ground on the plain leading to the Carter house into a hodge-podge of residential neighborhoods, office parks, fast-food restaurants, convenience stores and other suburban schlock. Although tremendous (and costly) preservation efforts have reclaimed battleground, much of the Franklin field sadly is left to our imaginations.

Curious, I walked the neighborhood near the bullet-scarred Carter house and outbuildings – ground that was strewn after the battle with scores of bodies. Here's what I found out about the killing field in the midst of suburbia.

The war-time Carter house along Columbia Pike is a popular Franklin attraction.
            PANORAMA: Bullet-scarred Carter farm outbuildings along Columbia Pike.
                                    (Click at upper right for full-screen experience.)

Wearing a dark-blue suit, light-blue shirt and sporting a well-manicured, brown goatee, Eric Jacobson looks like a distinguished Union officer. This battleground holds deep meaning for the Battle of Franklin Trust chief executive officer, who long ago made it his goal to understand “every inch” of the hallowed ground. “I wanted to know it,” says the Minnesota native, “like I know myself.”

Close-up of bullet hole in Fountain Carter outbuilding.
Our walk in the battlefield park near the Carter house, epicenter of the battle, occurs on the anniversary of D-Day, another momentous event in American history. The Allies suffered 4,900 casualties on June 6, 1944. At Franklin, there were nearly 9,000 casualties in five hours on a two-mile front during a battle fought mostly a night, a rarity during the war; 189 Federal soldiers were killed and a staggering 1,750 Confederates.

Jacobson still remembers the day in 1999 when he first walked the hallowed ground near the Carter house. “I was stunned,” he says as we cross busy Columbia Pike, main route of advance of John Bell Hood’s Army of Tennessee. “How the hell could this happen?”

“This” was a small strip mall, two pizza restaurants and a Victorian house built on core battlefield land near the site of the infamous Carter cotton gin. Irishmen Patrick Cleburne – one of six Rebel  generals to die from wounds suffered at Franklin -- was killed nearby.

Another view of bullet-scarred Carter farm outbuilding.
Decades ago, Jacobson couldn’t see the Carter house from this spot near modern-day Cleburne Street, the most poignant on the battlefield for him. Thankfully, those awful battlefield intrusions were demolished in 2014, two years after the one-acre property had been purchased by preservation organizations. Jacobson's vista is restored. (The area where Cleburne was killed, once occupied by a pizza restaurant, was reclaimed and restored to open space in 2006. It's a small memorial park today.)

As we walk through the battlefield park, roughly along the line where Union earthworks stood, Jacobson tells of his ultimate goal for a battlefield. He wants visitors to be able to walk from where we stand to historic Carnton Plantation, about 1 ¼  miles away, on preserved battlefield land.

About 15 feet from the foundation of the old Carter cotton gin and an easy bean-bag toss from a 20th-century house, we stand by a cannon marking the position of the 6th Ohio Light Artillery battery. During the battle, Lieutenant Aaron Baldwin’s artillerymen held this spot against swarms of Confederates. This land, Jacobson says, is akin to the Bloody Angle at Gettysburg, where the Union Army made another desperate stand. “Baldwin had no support here. He stays while others fall back,” he says. “At what point do you run?”

In 1864, Baldwin’s artillery pointed into an open field. “Just look at his field of fire,” says an admiring Jacobson, gesturing into a neighborhood filled with houses.

The field of fire for Union Lieutenant Aaron Baldwin's battery is a residential neighborhood today..
     PANORAMA: Foundation stones for war-time Carter cotton gin, behind Union lines 
          during the battle. This was site of some of the most intense fighting of the war.
                                  (Click at upper right for full-screen experience.)

If Aaron Baldwin’s artillery battery were in action today, it probably could do significant damage to Tom Henderson’s property on the killing field. Red, white and blue bunting hangs from the porch of the one-story house in which the North Carolina native and his wife have lived for 30 years. Three American flags are planted in the front yard. “We’re a very patriotic family,” says the 76-year-old Navy veteran, whose ancestors fought in the Confederate infantry and cavalry.

Confederates swept from right to left across the plain in front of 
the Carter house. This ground today is a residential neighborhood.
“Right here,” Henderson says, pointing in a 180-degree arc, “bodies were everywhere.” Confederates made one of their six charges across this relatively flat ground in his development, built in the late 1980s.

Henderson says his neighbors have found evidence of the great struggle on the Bloody Plain – “ton of bullets,” soldiers’ belt buckles and even a gold coin. But the battle holds no special sway over him.

“We respect the history here,” Henderson says, “but we don’t dwell on it.” As we part, he waves to a neighbor, grabs two of his empty garbage cans and heads back up his driveway.

         GOOGLE STREET VIEW: Williamson County Library (left) was built on "core                      battlefield." The war-time Carter farmhouse is a little more than 250 yards away.
                                    (Click on image to explore the neighborhood.)

Over the objections of battlefield preservationists, the Williamson County Public Library was built in 2003 on land near the Columbia Pike. “Core battlefield,” Jacobson calls the site.

If Confederate Gen. John C. Brown’s division of battle-hardened veterans were to charge over this ground again, he would need several batteries of artillery to take down the large, two-story building and probably a regiment just to remove the fences around the four tennis courts behind it. In Gettysburg terms, it’s like a building was plopped on the Nicholas Codori farm, ground Confederates swept over during Pickett’s Charge.

Inside the library, a friendly Franklin resident talks about the local blood drive. Near the circulation desk, bespectacled librarian Jennie Williams sits with a co-worker behind a long desk in the children’s section. Unsurprisingly, she has a Confederate ancestor – he was wounded near Murfreesboro, Tenn., during the war.

A 60-year-old Nashville native, Williams doesn’t consider the library an intrusion on hallowed ground. She believes the Carter house, about 800 feet from her library chair, “is more Ground Zero” of the battlefield.

Before I depart, Williams and her co-worker casually mention an unusual library holding, perhaps unique in the U.S. public library system. With a library card, anyone can check out a metal detector to hunt for Civil War relics. Be warned: The waiting list is lengthy.

Rita and Tony Holcomb sit on the front porch of their house, which sits on land upon which 
Union earthworks were built in November 1864.  Confederate General Patrick Cleburne 
was killed nearby. Rita holds a bullet and spoon found on their property.
Early on a sultry evening, Tony Holcomb sips a Bulleit bourbon under the shade of a tree in his front yard while his toy fox terrier strains on a leash. A semi-retired Air Force veteran, Holcomb and his wife, Rita, live on Cleburne Street in a 1936 house with an impressive, recent addition. In 1864, Union earthworks cut through his property, about right where a framed photo of Patrick Cleburne hangs on the wall of the Holcombs' living room.

From his front porch, Tony Holcomb can see the pyramid-shaped battlefield monument that denotes where Cleburne was killed. If he stands on a chair on his side porch, he can see the blocks of the foundation of the Carter cotton gin, where some of the most ferocious fighting of the war occurred.

A civil engineer, Holcomb knows about buildings and terrain, and we spend several minutes talking about the sloping ground yards from his house on which Confederates charged in 1864.

A pyramid-shaped monument marks where Confederate Gen. Patrick Cleburne 
was killed. In 2006, the American Battletfield Trust worked to acquire 
this land, and a Pizza Hut here was demolished and the ground restored
 to open space. It's a small memorial park today.
“How could these guys stand the onslaught?” says Tony, pointing to a Union artillery position over a fence steps from his house. “And how could these guys,” nodding toward where Cleburne’s soldiers charged yards away, “keep on coming? How could they do this?”

Although he’s not a history buff, Tony has a deep respect for the battlefield. So does his wife, Rita, a gregarious Alabama native who calls her home a “little slice of heaven.”

While we engage in small talk on a swing on the porch, Rita ventures inside the house and returns with a shopping bag. She pulls from it several smaller plastic bags, each holding pieces of Franklin’s Civil War past. When the foundation for the Holcombs’ addition was built, a local man asked if he could sweep his metal detector across the ground. He gave the Holcombs everything he found – bullets, what looks like a piece of harmonica, clumps of lead and other detritus of war.

Before my visit ends, we examine an area just off the Holcombs’ property, near the cotton gin site.

“Dead bodies were everywhere in our back yard,” Rita says of the long-ago fighting here.

After a tour of their home, Rita pulls an unfired Union bullet from one of her plastic bags of relics. Handing the one-ounce piece of lead to me as a gift, she reminds me to not remove the dirt from it.

Just another day on a killing field.

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-- Confederate VeteranJanuary 1894.
-- Philadelphia Times, Aug. 21, 1882.

Wednesday, November 27, 2019

Port Republic, Va., site of Stonewall Jackson's great escape

With Yankees in hot pursuit on June 8, 1862, at Port Republic, Va., Stonewall Jackson (right) galloped down a street on “Little Sorrel” and across a covered bridge spanning the North River. Despite Union artillery crashing into its timbers, Jackson reached the relative safety of the opposite shore. Then he came under fire from an Ohio battery. But Jackson escaped and whipped the Federals at Port Republic the next day.

Wednesday, November 20, 2019

Piedmont (Va,) battlefield, where 'Grumble' Jones was killed

On June 5, 1864,  Brigadier General William "Grumble" Jones (right), a Confederate cavalry commander, was killed at the Battle of Piedmont. That hallowed ground, privately owned, is perhaps the most unspoiled battlefield in the Shenandoah Valley. Jones was buried on the field by Federals. He was re-buried in a church cemetery in Glade Spring, Va., about 20 miles from the Tennessee border.

Wednesday, November 13, 2019

'Do you have 15 minutes?': A history-packed visit to Lee Chapel

W.C. "Burr" Datz holds a copy of a circa-1873 image of artisans working on the recumbent 
sculpture of Robert E. Lee in Edward Valentine's studio in Richmond, Va. 
The sculpture of the "Marble Man" is behind Datz. (CLICK ON IMAGES TO ENLARGE.)
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Moments after I pass through the white doors of Lee Chapel on the Washington and Lee University campus in Lexington, Va., docent W.C. "Burr" Datz springs into action.

Exterior view of Lee Chapel.
“Do you have 10 minutes?” the Long Island native asks from atop the stage. Datz, whose white beard gives him a passing resemblance to Robert E. Lee, is flanked by a large painting of George Washington to his right and one of Lee to his left. Next to him is the chapel's original wooden podium, a work of art that dates to 1868. Behind Datz is the main attraction: a small room that houses Edward Valentine's impressive memorial sculpture of the recumbent Lee.

Seconds after I mention my deep interest in the Civil War, docent Datz eagerly snatches the bait. “Do you have 15 minutes?” he says.

Datz gestures for the me to sit in a front-row pew -- the same pew where the former Army of Northern Virginia commander sat for services when he was school president (it was then called Washington College) from 1865 until his death in 1870. Like an auctioneer rattling off bids, Datz delivers stories about Lee. Clearly the Washington and Lee graduate, Class of 1975, is a deep admirer of the "Marble Man." Deeply knowledgeable, too.

"The function of Lee as a gentlemen," Datz tells me, "has had a deep impact on my life."

    PANORAMA: A view from behind podium in Lee Chapel; Lee's pew is first on right.
                                      (Click at upper right for full-screen experience.)

Fifteen minutes turns into, oh, 25 or so. Worth it? You bet.

A rookie mistake: Hat on head not a good look
for a certain blogger.
"Do you have some more time?" asks Datz. He welcomes me to the stage, where he tells the story of the marble sculpture of Lee, completed in 1875. The stone for it was quarried in Vermont. Ah, Yankee marble. Would Lee approve? Probably. He would detest, however, a statue of himself, says Datz. A man of class and distinction, Lee was no "me" guy.

Circling the Lee sculpture, I shoot images from myriad angles, twice setting off an alarm when edging too close to the general. Obviously a rookie mistake.

Before I depart, Datz encourages me to visit Lee's office on the bottom floor -- it's kept just as he left it the day he died Oct. 12, 1870. Then he invites me to sit in the front-row pew for another dose of history.

"Let's take your picture," he says. Aiming in vain to find my good side, he shoots two photos.

Sadly, a blue toboggan remained on my head.

The general, according to sources, definitely would not approve.

Lee Chapel was constructed from 1867–68 at the request of Robert E. Lee, who was president
of Washington College, now Washington & Lee University. This mausoleum addition was dedicated 
in June 1883 to house Edward Valentine's memorial statue of the recumbent Lee.
                        PANORAMA: A view of the recumbent sculpture of Robert E. Lee.
                                     (Click at upper right for full-screen experience.)

Robert E. Lee's office in the chapel is left as it was on the day he died in 1870.
Lee and his family are buried beneath the chapel. 

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