4:30 a.m. Eastern Time - April 12th, 2011

To the 600,000.  *clink*

(A lovely French Chardonnay imbibed in honor of P.G.T. Beauregard, and a some Sea-Salt chips munched in honor of Major Anderson's gallant defense of his island fort)

Introducing . . .

The Winchester Canon  - postings from the Copeland/Ridenour papers, dated 1860-1865.  :-) Join Adah and I as we travel through time and write as our characters, contemplating the joys and tragedies of ordinary women who lived through exceptional times.


Letters dated late-1860 now posted.

The Winchester Canon

Reenacting has brought many amazing people into my life.  One of them is my partner in hardcore crime, the Sunny Seamstress (who blogs here and here), who's just as crazy as I am when it comes to de-farbing camp, eating period-correct food, and obsessing over tiny details of historical accuracy in our costume choices.  We also find that reenacting in "first-person" really helps inspire our research and adds an extra edge of challenge and fun to events.

One of the brilliant ideas Sunny, or "Adah" as I more-often call her, came up with was that we would write letters back and forth in character, tracing our respective journeys from the election of 1860 'til (God willin' and the creek don't rise...) the end of the war.  Adah insisted that we write them all out in our best Spencerian ("Spencerian?  What, like, swirly-letters?" said I . . .), with pen-and-ink, if possible.  After a few tries, this letter writing has turned into quite a project:

Being the Literature Major/Author that I am, I came up with 2-3 pages of back-story for my character, Margaret-Ellen Hamilton Copeland of Hillsborough, VA (near where I used to live in Purcellville).  Adah came up with about as much, and right now we are writing as long-separated childhood friends from Hillsborough & Alexandria, respectively.  We will both eventually end up in Winchester, VA - just in time for the mid-days of the war and the muster of our unit, the 18th VA Cavalry, in 1863.  We call our character-world "The Winchester Canon," a title which will remain ironic until Spring 1862 or so, when my character will move to Winchester for reasons which will be revealed in the future.

Thus, in order to write my letters, I bring out "Beleaguered Winchester,"  (a book on civilians in Frederick County during the War) for help with character atmosphere, "The Recollections and Letters of Robert E. Lee" for style reference, "The Civil War Almanac" to keep my timeline straight, and the original 1828 Webster Dictionary for vocab. help.  This in addition to the several web-pages I keep open on my iPhone: 1860s farming research, an 1861 calendar, and an example of Spencerian penmanship.

I told you I was crazy.

I write out everything long-hand in a journal before I commit it to ink-and-paper, so I can craft a good letter w/o having to worry about the handwriting, as well as have a good copy of my letter once the finished product has been mailed.  I've been getting better at the Spencerian (practice makes perfect), and am really enjoying getting to know both of our characters in depth.  

Which is why we've figured that maybe it's time to share the wealth.  Beginning this week (if all goes according to plan), I will begin transcribing our existing letters onto their very own blogspot.  We hope that the rest of you will enjoy reading about the Adventures of Adah and Margaret-Ellen as much as we have enjoyed writing them.  I will post new letters as they become available.  Check-back in a couple days to begin the journey through time.

Some Pictures from Last Year . . .

 . . . Set to music (that's me singing, and the intrepid Lt. Michael on the guitar & drums)

So picturesque, and yet . . .

Having successfully finished a new muslin chemise with pretty-pink trim, I set out this evening to get a good start on a matching set of drawers.  After 4 hours of cutting-out, pinning, and stitching, I had two decent-looking drawer-legs, facings, plackets & all.

2 decent-looking drawers legs - for a left leg.

Ballocks.

We'll start Round 2 tomorrow.  Score so far - The Sewing Gods: 2, Margaret-Ellen: 0.5

The Art of Laundressery

Laundressing?  Laundresship? (Vote for your preferred noun in the comments section).

It wasn’t long into my reenacting “career” (3 or 4 events) before I realized that being a woman in a Living History Encampment can get downright boring.  The men are up and about, for the most part, from first call in the morning ‘til evening gun-cleaning – but the ladies, outside of preparing meals and getting ready for dances, mostly just sit around and sew.  Which is awesome, and a great opportunity for fellowship with one’s fellows - if you’re the “sit around and sew” type. I am not.

I considered the different types of activity-centered living-history-impressions available to the weaker sex: nurse (done a lot – and no longer allowed on the battlefield in our association), cook (no really good cooking equipment available in our unit’s camp), vivandierre (period correct for SOME units, but definitely NOT the Virginia Cavalry), female-soldier-passing-as-a-man (no matter how hard I tried – there’s no way I could conceivably pass for a man, and I’m just stich-nazi enough to care), camp-follower (Now REALLY!?) . . . laundress (ooooh).

The thought brought me back to a thrilling “Adobe Days” reenactment at the Rancho Los Cerritos when I was a wee tyke, during which I (in addition to stomping mud into adobe bricks and learning how to write with a quill pen) got to scrub laundry on a washboard and send it through a hand-wringer.  I begged my mom for days afterward to give me a tub and a board and let me do our laundry in the back-yard (just like in the “Kirsten” books and Little House on the Prairie!!!).  Here was an impression that was involved, informative, and possibly interactive.  I also couldn’t recall the last time I saw a laundress at a Civil War event.

I was lucky to find an affordable, large wooden washtub and an old washboard in working order at the first antique store I tried (there IS a God).  Add a couple buckets, a large tub for rinsing (Yes, yes, galvanized-metals weren’t used until the 1880s.  I won’t tell if you won’t!), a boiler (only to display since we’re not allowed ground-fires in So.Cal), a table, some bottles for “stain-remedies,” a clothes-brush, a ledger, an old iron, and the Laundress was in business!  I bought a booklet from the Kansas Mercantile on creating a believable Military Laundress impression, and studied up.  The following is the “system” I employ at events, but it is always changing, and I would welcome any comments/questions/suggestions for improvement that any of y’all might have!

1.  

1. Boil Water – I start with cold-water washing, but the water takes a long time to boil over an open flame and by the time it’s off-boil I’ll probably be ready for it.  Yummy breakfast optional ;-)

 2. Carry Water for Tubs – Sometimes one can rely on a friendly trooper or two to help with this chore, but not always.  One starts to appreciate the hard work that went into this job right about now.  Also important to remember that the clothes will replace their volume in the water so one needen’t fill the tubs as high as one might think at first.

3.    Soaking – In real life, the clothes would’ve been mended, treated for stains, and left to soak overnight.  I take some “warm” clothes (semi-soiled shirts, etc.) and throw them in a soak-bucket to illustrate these steps without actually displaying them.  As I wash, I’ll throw the next “batch” of clothes in the soak bucket so there’s always something in it.

4.    Plunge and Scrub – I wash wools and delicates first, with a milder soap while the water is still cold and clean.  When I’m done with that, I’ll start adding the hot water from the stove to shavings of lye-soap (people often ask me – “why do you need a knife?” “For my soap and naughty children,” says I . . . Mid-19^th century laundresses didn’t rub the soap directly onto the clothes – though I’ve personally found this removes dirt a little more easily – they dissolved the soap in hot water and then added the mix to the water in the tub) and wash the “warms” – wearable cottons, etc.  This is a great point to get kids involved – they always want to come and help!

5.    The Hot Load – this part is always fun for me because it feels the most realistic of all the steps.  I’ve been saving any really dirty whites for the end, when the water is nice and murky.  I throw out most of the cool water and add the rest of what’s been boiling, then (because it’s too hot to pick up and scrup with your hands) I agitate the wash with a wooden spoon (I need something bigger, but a spoon will do for now).  Then, when the water’s cooled a tad, I scrub until my hands are sore.  I’ve worked out some really tough cast-iron stains with this method before!

   

6.    Rinse & Hang – In real 1860s life, laundry (especially linens and whites) would’ve received 3 rinses and a boil (in addition to starching & ironing – whew!!).  I can only really display one rinse, though I do bring a boiler to show what one would look like.  This part can be fairly back-breaking – it’s always nice to grab a couple of passing kids to help you wring stuff out – ESPECIALLY the woolens!

 

7.    RELAX.  Sit.  Spin. Sew. Cook.  Rest aching back and wonder about washer-woman’s elbow. Hound troopers to pay-up for last-month’s long-johns. And/or Start-Over, depending on if one sees some promising public heading one’s way . . .

   

Typing Through my Time-Machine-Lag (Knott's Encampment, 2011)

My friend Miss M. says that "spending a weekend at a reenactment is like hitting Life's reset button."  For a few days work, bills, and other concerns fade away into the light of campfires and the smell of woodsmoke, hay, lye soap, and canvas.  One's cares are condensed into remembering one's research for the benefit of the public, keeping the fire under your laundry-water going, and praying that the rainclouds pass you by.  No fashion-statements to make, no deadlines to remember, no alarm clocks - just an enthusiastic rooster at 6:30am on-the-dot.

The Knott's Encampment almost didn't happen this year.  For one reason or another, most of the troop wasn't planning on coming, but the few crazy "hardcores" in the group, chafing for action after a long winter season (well, long for us So.Cal. types.  I guess you East-Coasters still have to wait 'til around April.  HAH!), wanted to make a weekend of it anyway.  We planned to take advantage of our smaller numbers by planning a period-correct menu (no sandwiches or pasta salad allowed!), a farb-free tents, and hoped to practice our 1st-person impressions on an unsuspecting public.

Then the weather man predicted rain.   This being So.Cal., everybody panicked.  4 of our originally-planned 8 participants dropped out.  Half of that 4 didn't plan on camping.  But the few, the happy few - namely, me and the Sunny Seamstress, refused to give in.  We'd been sewing and planning and cooking and gosh-darnit we were gonna see this event through if it drowned us.  I took off Friday afternoon to try and get everything in my truck and set-up in camp before the rains came (they were predicted to start @ 5pm).

Of COURSE the first droplets hit my windshield at 3pm, just as I was pulling away from my house, "Gettysburg" soundtrack blaring.  But, thanks to the Seamstress and a couple brave Yanks, we got camp set-up without TOO much soakage. 

You can see the nice dip in the canvas where the water started collecting almost right away.  But Sunny & I put buckets under the leaks and refused to fret.  We bunked in our tent, protected by a ground-layer of tarping, canvas, and (*farb alert*) plastic bags, while most of the bold men and boys of both armies retired to motel rooms and "tin teepees."  We stayed remarkably dry, considering.  We sewed and chewed on sugared ginger and held a "sing-off," taking turns singing folk songs we could remember, until a strong gust of wind called us out into the wet to re-stake 4 fly-poles.  Then it was time to retreat to the sleeping bags.

Next morning, our leak-catching buckets were full:

But the sun was shining against-all-odds, the public showed-up despite the relative lack of reenactors, and there was breakfast to be made and laundry to be done!

It took all four of us to figure out a good strategy for keeping the fire going long enough for our oatmeal, but by 10:30 we had made breakfast and had started the water boiling for my load of whites:

Hauling my own water is always an interesting part of the laundress-impression.  Sometimes I can get the boys to volunteer to haul the necessary 10+ gallons, but I was on my own this time.  That is, on my own only until I beguiled a kindly Yank to help me finish my haul.  A hearty Southern "thankee" to D. of the California 100!

 I didn't work as hard at the laundry on Saturday because the public was relatively sparse, and I knew my clothes had no chance of drying before the rains came again:

But we did get in at least one delicious period-camp-food dinner and some time for spinning before the skies broke:

Bacon, corn-bread, and "Hoppin' John:" a mix of black-eyed peas, brown rice, and more bacon :-D

Sunday was the day that really hit-it-out of the park for me as far as reenacting experiences go.  The weather was warm and gorgeous, the public was really engaging, and the dearth of other civilian portrayals meant that my display got a lot of traffic.  I stumbled on my "spiel" the first time someone tried recording me, but the by the 3rd & 4th times I had it down.  The kids were the best:

They were incredibly exicted and eager to come stand on an upturned bucket behind the display and help me wash the last of my clothes.  Once you let them wash once piece, they wanted to hang around until the last little article was scrubbed, rinsed, wrung and hung.  I'm thrilled by the idea that I helped bring their minds into history in the same fun and creative spirit with which long-ago Civil War reenactors inspired me to love history when I was that age.

I also got the "laundry process" down pretty well on Sunday.  I was helped by the fact that there aren't any scheduled battles at Knotts, so one can pretty much continue one's impression for hours without the public disappearing at regular intervals.  I started with cold, clean water and mild soap for the Lieutenant's woolen trousers, gradually adding warm water and harsher soap as I got towards the dirtier, heartier fabrics.  By the time I got to the ultra-soiled dishrags, the water was nicely boiling, so I threw out most of the cold, dirty water, poured in all the boiling water and a lump of lye soap, then "agitated" the clothes with a wooden spoon for a good 15 minutes.  Another 20 minutes of scrubbing per item brought out most of the cast-iron-and-bacon-grease stains . . . and by that time I'd been going at it for 3.5 hours and was plain bushed:

I took up my spinning again, but still drew a bit of a crowd that'd never seen a drop-spindle in action before. I was able to tie it into the practice of Southern women patriotically showing-off their homespun dresses, and was bemused listening to a couple of Indian families comment to their children that "that is exactly how Gandhi used to do it."  The Sunny Seamstress was asked a question about her costume, and she had the bright idea of stripping down to her undergarments (*gasp of Victorian horror*) to demonstrate all the layering that went into a dress of the era.  Of course, the minute her dress came off the small crowd of 5 grew to something like 30, and even after she had finished the demonstration the crowd stayed put, firing off questions for another 20 minutes.  It was really incredible to feel like we were helping to educate and enlighten those that listened to us rattle off our half-confident answers about mourning practices, laundry, mending, cooking, and "days-in-the-life."  

The last hour was quiet enough, filled mostly with picturesque food, including Miss M's delicious "Martha Washington Cake:

We packed up and came home. We put away the washboards, jars, cast-iron, and cage-hoops. And Sunny Seamstress and I awarded ourselves the "Plum Craziest Pair of Hardcore Reenactors We Ever Did Know in 2011" trophy.  Being young and vain, we browsed the web and tried to find pictures of ourselves and stories about the weekend.

 Now come the weeks of what I like to call "time-machine lag," when one listens to nothing but roots-music and can think of nothing but what one's next sewing project should be.  It can be hard to "reset" oneself back into contemporary life.

Which is why I'm glad I only have to wait 8 more days 'til the next reenactment. 

With much affection,

M.E.H. Copeland

Company Laundress