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Posted on 09/29/2005 10:54:21 PM PDT by snippy_about_it
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 are acknowledged, affirmed and commemorated.
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 The 'Skedaddle' Note: This wonderful journal shared with us from Lee Heggy will be covered over a three day period. Please read and enjoy as Lee travels to Athens Missouri for one of his many re-enacting engagements. Thank you so much Lee for being part of our Foxhole family and sharing your tales with us.
As we sat under the shade of a copse of oak trees smoking our pipes and making small talk the Missouri Home Guard made their appearance. Marching in a file of twos between the rail fences lining the road up from their encampment, the brave and bully boys of the State of Missouri tramped by us. Their ranks had swelled since yesterday to about three hundred. Many of them were locals who wished to participate in the place of their ancestors. True to the spirit of the original battle most were carrying a shotgun or squirrel rifle although many had nothing more than a pitchfork or axe. Some had a club or a long pole with a butcher knife lashed to it. In ragged pants and blackened feet 'Cuppy' waved his baseball bat at us as he marched by. The old State Flag of Missouri was at the head of the column. A variation on the Southern 'Stars and Bars' it also bore the legend 'Live Free or Die' across the middle white bar. It struck me as a curious motto for a slave state.  They marched past us on up the hill behind some trees to form up their deployment. I could hear snatches of Col. Angus giving his boys one last rousing speech of encouragement and their answering cheers. We went to our gun and the Guards took up a line on either side of us that stretched for about two hundred yards. Up the road behind us was another six pounder manned by the 3rd Arkansas Lgt Arty. We are known as the 2nd Kansas Lgt Arty but in this event we were simply Missouri Home Guard. At this battle there was also what is termed a 'Quaker Cannon'. This is usually a false cannon made from the trunk of a tree and painted to look like the real thing at a distance to intimidate the enemy.. However, at Athens the Quaker gun was actually bored out. banded with iron and loaded with powder along with pieces of chain and old horseshoes. At the breech a touch hole was drilled to fire it off. This 'gun' was to the front of us off to the right. The attacking forces of the Missouri Militia were behind rail fences two hundred yards in front of us. After the announcer on the PA explained to the assembled crowd what this battle was all about and who was who we waited about five more minutes and then the Arkansas gun behind us roared to life signaling the start. We jumped to and proceeded to load our piece and fired off three rounds in quick sucession. We waited to fire again until the Home Guard was safely beyond the reach of our blasts. A six pounder shoots out a tounge of flame and debris for over twenty yards along with much smoke. A fellow can get severely burned if they are too close to the muzzle flash. Often we set the grass and weeds on fire in front of us. A black powder cannon is impressive even at the distance of the spectators but up close it always startles me with its sheer violence and the concussive effects of detonation. As the line of Guards came even with the quaker gun their crew touched it off. In the real battle the thing exploded killing the crew and sending the nearby infantry into a panic. They dropped their hoes and pitchforks and turned and started to run. In this re-creation it almost did so again sending up a huge cloud of smoke and firey sparks. Meanwhile the Militias with their better equipment and training were firing volleys into the ranks of the Home Guard scattering and dropping more than a few. At the exhortations of Col. Angus the ragged line of Guards closed the Militia then fixed bayonets and prepared for a charge. As they rose up yelling and hooting the Home Guard lost their nerve, broke and ran. Many fell or were taken prisoner. I got off three shots with my horse pistol and saw one militia fall as a result then I then turned tail and ran to catch up with my mates. After another few minutes of scattered fire it was over and we walked back to the main grounds to mix with the crowd and impress the kids. The whole thing lasted but a half an hour, only ten minutes shy of the real battle. Carl and the guys got their instruments tuned up and began a strolling concert in the crowd. There were probably about a thousand or so people that turned out to watch Missourians kill Missourians. Carl doesn't solicit donations but people were very generous with tips and purchases of CDs. We finally ended up in one of the old houses that was being used by some female re-enactors as their home. They were sleeping outside like us since the bats and mice made sleeping inside the house impossible. Knitting and crocheting around an old table they were the picture of domesticity. We begged of their pleasure and with a nod of assent from the older matron of the group we pulled up benches across the room and serenaded the ladies for an hour while people filtered in and out looking at the ancient old home. It was quite nice in the cool of the big front room and they had a good supply of lemonade. Several of the ladies were very easy on the eyes. Indeed, they turned out later to be excellent dancers as well. 'Old times there are not forgotten... It was getting on towards five o'clock and the spectators were beginning to dwindle. We excused ourselves from the ladies and wandered back towards the main area. On the way Carl, Dave and I decided to go down by the river and take a look at the remains of the old mill. Ed went on to satisfy his growling stomach with the Home Guards.  Down a shaded lane and across a low bridge we came to another home. This was the residence of the owner of the now vanished mill. It was also the house that a cannon ball went through. The hole is preserved and the interior is completly restored. A lovely old place. A huge porch on the north side with a beautiful view of the river below. We went through the house and looked at the old furniture and exhibits. A path led down to the remains of the mill. Judging by the size of the foundation stones it must have been a very impressive structure. Each block was at least three feet long by two foot high and equally thick. We sat down on a tumbled block and took in the view of the river. Directly below us were two fishing boats out in the middle of the river. The men on board them were laughing and having a high old time. Carl winked at Dave and I. "Watch this." he said. Then he began playing 'Dueling Banjos' from the film Deliverance. Dave joined in on the ansering stanzas. Upon hearing this tune ringing out from the trees above them the fishermen got to their oars and quickly moved downstream and away from the unseen hillbillies in the forest. We all got a good laugh at that. Then we walked back to the shelter house and had a meal of fried catfish, bluegill and cornbread with roasted corn, fresh peas, carrots and new potatos. All was provided by the Park Service. The Amish bakers generously laid out blueberry and peach pies with dishes of butter. Along with coffee, iced tea and lemonade there was a supply of home-brewed beer and ale materializing from the Home Guards in big earthenware crocks that had been wrapped with burlap stuffed with ice. This was kept out of sight behind some trees. Delicious and refreshing after the days activities in the bush. After this wonderful repast the tables were moved to the ends of the shelter house and the boys got ready for the dance. Col. Angus was designated to be the 'caller' since he always does such a great job of making these things fun and very entertaining. He also knows the moves of the various reels, promenades and waltzes. He gives a demonstration of these beforehand to the unininitiated so no one is embarrased by ignorance and all can have fun. An hour later after 'freshening up' with a nice cool dip in the river we changed into our 'courting clothes' and refilled flasks with the Cluney, The Des Moines River is clear, all sandy bottom and only about three to four feet deep with big flat rocks in places to avoid getting dirty upon stepping out. It's a fairly wonderous feeling of freedom to strip to ones underdrawers and wade out into a big slow moving river. Upstream of us there was a large group of giggling women doing the same thing in their pantaloons and loose frock bathing outfits. The ladies were just arriving when Carl and the boys started tuning up.  They opened up with a couple of old ballads and then switched into a 'Grand March'. Ladies on one side, men on the other. The dance is arranged so that the men all get a turn escorting each woman down the line. Turning and bowing or courtseying to one another in unison. This old timey dancing is sort of like square dance but it's much more polite, formal and not nearly so frenzied as the modern counterpart. They played a waltz or two then some polkas. Much swirling of hoop skirts and girlish laughter accompanied. It gets my old heart thumping having a pretty girl in my arms dancing a reel, flushed and smiling at me with sparkling eyes, gloved hands holding on for dear life as the room spins. My favorite partner was one of the girls that we played for at the old house that afternoon. Her name is Josetta and she's from St. Louis. In real life she makes a living as a seamstress for people needing authentic hand stitched dresses and such. A very pretty wisp of a girl with skin like cream. Oval shaped face with big brown eyes and a very well educated mind. A delightful companion..unfortunately I suspect I'm old enough to be her father. They played and we danced on until after nine o'clock. Josetta grasped my hand and with a courtsey and a slight peck on the cheek was gone leaving the scent of vanilla wafting around my head. Then there was one more 'event'.  'I says Mr. Bones...' The rumor had spread that there was to be some 'special' entertainment. They were not to be disappointed. Carl and his musical friends have been performing authentic 1850s minstrel style music for about five years now. The old songs in and of themselves are not too familiar anymore to anyone but, they formed the basis of what was known as 'Minstrelsy'. The shows that are associated with and predated vaudville. To play those old songs is one thing but to actually perform the sketches that went along with them is quite another. It takes a great sense of timing and melodramatic comedy to bring those old corny jokes to life and make folks laugh. They worked hard on putting the 'show' together and tonight would be their debute as 'The Missouri Melodions'.  After the dance they went and prepaired. Put on their outlandish costumes, wigs and props then corked their faces black and applied clown white around lips and sometimes eyes. I was going to photograph the performance so I didn't gear up. The show was going to be down in the woods at the far end of the Home Guard encampment. Three large fires lit the performance area. Several hundred people gathered in the darkness for the event. The guys were all in readiness and awaiting their introduction. After they were announced they came out of a tent one at a time doing what was called 'the cake walk'. Called thus, the term is related to the old saying 'He takes the cake!' by reason of being the most outrageous of the quartet. Exaggerated movement and gestures are performed by each as they take their places on stumps and barrels.'Mr. Tambo' with the tamborine and drum sits to the left next to 'Mr. Banjar' who is next to 'Mr. Gitfiddle' followed finally by 'Mr. Bones'. If I take part I give a crazy sermon and benediction at the conclusion.  The crowd in the dark was laughing and enjoying the sight immensely. I can't relate the entire program but they avoided using the 'N' word and most often turned the jokes around so as to be making fun of white folk. The material followed the old scripts with Mr. Bones posing a 'conumdrum to the others such as, 'I says Mr. Tambo, why is the sun like a loave of bread?' Mr. Tambo looks puzzled and then Mr. Bones replies, 'Cause it rises in the yeast!' and so on... It was a ribald and comedic show that I'm sure surprized most of the audience. Looking around at the audience I saw several with their mouths agape. 'Who wuz that I saw you perambulatin around the deck on The Bayou Sarah with yesterday?' 'Why that wuz none other than my feancy Miss Arrowmintha Peachblossom for sho.' 'Well if she ever opened her mouth I reckon she could swallow all da machinery and de paddle too.' I took a lot of pictures and recorded a couple of wave files to my camera. The audience loved the show and asked for three encores.  I understand that there are several other groups doing this as well back east and down south but it's not advertised and is strictly for the other re-enactors fun. Sentrys are posted around the camp to deny access to the uninvited or hostile. Next another night under the stars...      |
"1975 - 5 drown in flash flood of sewer & water tunnel (Niagara Falls NY) "
I am NOT going to ask.
Hmmm
NY event + NY resident = Darksheare's Fault
I wasn't a NY resident until after 1975.
In 75 I was busy being born in Ohio.
Unless it is a prenatal instigation..
Hiya ct. I'm glad you enjoyed Lee's tales. It was such a fun read.
Probably reincarnated after drowning in the flash flood that you caused. :-)
What do you do now?
Turn handle, explore tunnel further, , or climb the ladder?
C:\ Turn Handle
You turn the handle and are somewhat perplexed by the sound of rumbling further up the tunnel.
Suddenly there is water everywhere!
You reach for the ladder but it is out of reach!
Your last thoughts just before you black out are, "Crud! Crud! Crud! Crud!"
You are dead.
Do you want to retry, restart, or load last saved position?
C:\ _
LOL. Restart.
We're getting lots of rain. The pup grows a few inches everyday it seems. We are planning for fall and Christmas at the store, praying to sell lots of stuff so we can pay the rent. ;-)
*chuckle*
Wold be hysterical, in a twisted irony sort of way.
Would explain why I cannot swim..
Someone set up us the crapper.
LOL!
Flash flood in a water and sewer tunnel.
Somebody had a major clog in their pipes somewhere.
ROFLMAO! That's hilarious.
He lives!
Hiya Sam
I'll bet watching parishoner's heads turning back and forth while the ball is lobbed over the chancel rail could get distracting.
~snicker~
Howdy ma'am
LOL
Musta been some kinda laxative to get through it all at once.
LOL.
"I dunno why it won't flush!"
KAFWOOOOSH!
In 75 I was busy being born in Ohio.
Where's my Geritol?
Realizing my frailty Carl had thoughtfully put an inflatable mattress in the bed of the pickup for me to sleep upon should I desire to. I did.
Was that an official Civil War inflatable mattress?
Now granted I'm no expert on the War BetweenThe States, but I don't recall ever reading about them....strange.
I REALLY enjoyed reading of your exploits.
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