Enjoying a scotch on Dirk Warner's farm — the heart of the Cumberland Church (Va.) battlefield. |
Email me for details about an autographed copy. |
Now about my book, well, I had the idea in the deep recesses of my brain for years. I hit the road frequently for what I call my "Civil War Power Trips." I'd throw bags of red licorice, bottled iced tea, and sandwiches into the car and just go — Virginia, Mississippi, West Virginia, Kentucky, Pennsylvania, you name it. Mrs. B — Carol Banks, my lovely and humorous wife — encouraged me to hit the road often. (Should that make me worry?) I also have a knack for tacking on Civil War stops to family vacations.
On almost every trip, I'd meet these delightful characters who were eager to share their stories. I enjoy schmoozing with people about the Civil War. Once you show you are knowledgeable about the topic, people tend to open up and spill stories.
Lester "Sonny" Mason, the "poor man who lives like a king." |
One of those delightful characters was the impish Lester “Sonny” Mason, a late-70ish man who told me: “I'm one of kind. When they made me, they throws away the mold." A sign on his nondescript building along State Rt. 65 in Sharpsburg, Md., read: “The Battle of Antietam in Miniature.” I’ve visited Antietam scores of times but had never stopped at the place. Well, I finally did. Sonny, a hoot, lives there. He told me how he created his battlefield diorama in the basement.
For about $2.50 apiece, he purchased thousands of tiny lead-pewter soldiers, hand-painting them in blue and gray "day and night" with the aid of friends. He built a miniature Burnside Bridge, the iconic battlefield landmark, as well houses and churches for the village of Sharpsburg and barns for the well-known farms outside town. He created terrain to mirror the rolling hills of the real battlefield. He even added painted pools of red blood by dead and wounded soldiers. Sonny invested about $50K into the project.What passion.
For years, I’ve written a column called “Rambling” for Civil War Times magazine. Plus, I post frequently to my Civil War Facebook page and Civil War blog. I greatly admired Tony Horwitz, who wrote the epic Confederates In The Attic. What a fabulous storyteller. And such a funny guy. I still mourn his passing in 2019.So, the book seemed like a natural extension of all I had done.
How did you get to where you are today and how has history, specifically the Civil War, been a part of your life’s journey?
Long, long ago, I majored in journalism at West Virginia University and minored in history, beer and fun. My first newspaper gig was at the Martinsburg (W.Va.) Evening Journal, a short drive to the Antietam battlefield. I got to know Paul Culler, who had farmed for decades the Miller Cornfield —epicenter of the battle. Of course, it’s part of the national military park today. The stories Paul told – oh my, he hooked me.
From Martinsburg, my professional career took me to the Baltimore News American, Dallas Morning News, ESPN and elsewhere. But I always had Civil War on the brain.
In our garage, hunks of battlefield “witness tree” wood rest next to the car only because Mrs. B won’t let me display them in our house. In my mind, family birthdays and my own wedding anniversary get equal play with battle anniversaries. Mrs. B’s birthday is Oct. 19—the day of the Battle of Cedar Creek.
I’m weird.
The 40-Acre Cornfield at Antietam. |
If you could stand on a field in a moment in time during the Civil War and observe that moment in real life, when and where would you be? Why?
40-Acre Cornfield at Antietam on the afternoon of Sept. 17, 1862, as A.P. Hill’s veterans slammed into the 16th Connecticut – a rookie regiment in its first battle of the war. They didn’t know much about military maneuvers or anything else about fighting. In the cornfield, a desperate 16th Connecticut officer shouted to his colonel: “Tell us what you want us to do, and we’ll try to obey you!” Dozens of them fell in that hilly cornfield that afternoon.
When we lived in Connecticut, I got to know them. I visited their markers in cemeteries throughout the state. Some of the graves of those who fell in battle are empty. Who knows where they are buried? They’re my guys. What a tragic story.
Attorney Jerry Potter, one of the country's foremost experts on the Sultana tragedy. |
During your journeys you traveled many miles to many different locations. What stood out to you the most about the people you met along the way?
For the people who are really into the Civil War, it’s their single-minded focus. Most have what I call the "1,000-yard Civil War stare." These folks are just so homed in on the Civil War that it’s, well, endearing almost. They can rattle off facts and figures from the Official Records like some do baseball stats.
Some are so joyful to find a like-minded person that they really open up to you. In my book, I write about Jerry Potter, who knows more about the Sultana disaster than almost anyone. After my two-day visit with him, we hugged in a hotel parking lot in Marion, Ark. I got a kick out of that.
If you weren’t a writer what would your profession be?
Well, I have mostly been an editor during my journalism career. I didn’t find my voice as a writer until the past five or six years. If I weren’t a journalist, I’d like to be a train-riding hobo — just traveling about the country, meeting people, telling their stories, throwing down craft beers in dive bars and eating where the locals eat. I think it could be great fun, but I'd have to run it past Mrs. B first, though.
Finally, for the generations that read this book in the future, what do you hope they take away from this?
History is not boring. It’s not just a set of facts and dates. And it’s OK to laugh about history, too. I try to find humor in it -- when appropriate, of course.
Authoring this book was my passion. Find yours. If you’re passionate about jumping out of an airplane, do it.
But use a parachute.
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