Subject:  Re: "LM&M Train-robbery Reenactment", Sat. & Sunday, Aug. 4&5, 2007 |
Author:
Leon Harrison...former contributor to Tha Hag Rag Snooze
|
[
Next Thread |
Previous Thread |
Next Message |
Previous Message
]
Date Posted: 15:05:09 08/16/07 Thu
In reply to:
Leon Harrison
's message, ""LM&M Train-robbery Reenactment", Sat. & Sunday, Aug. 4&5, 2007" on 15:00:54 08/16/07 Thu
>Leon Harrison
>West Carrollton, Ohio
>Friday, August 10, 2007
>
>To: The Editor, East Kentucky Magazine
>
>Subject: Train-robbery reenactment at Lebanon, Ohio
>
>
> “LM&M Train-robbery Reenactment”
>
>
>EKM Buckeye Bureau, West Carrollton, Ohio
>Friday, August 10, 2007, 12:38 p.m.
>
> You military men and women (in Iraq and in
>Afghanistan) can undoubtedly empathize and sympathize
>with us Civil War reenactors when we say/type/write
>that (this week) Ohio weather has been hotter than a
>Centerville woman’s credit card; so hot that I closed
>my windows and turned on my AC. The “heat index” has
>made ninety-degree F. temperatures go over one
>hundred. Before last weekend’s [August 4-5] LM&M
>[Lebanon, Mason and Monroe Railroad] train-robbery
>reenactment, my former extreme example of hardcore
>hot-weather reenacting had been that August, 2005,
>Pound Gap, Kentucky, reenactment…at which Sgt.
>Harrison had once again dramatically died for the
>Union. Last weekend, Private Harrison died three times!
>
> Last weekend, some of us made the globe even
>warmer, and poisoned and polluted Mother Earth, by
>driving to Lebanon, Ohio, and by riding a five-car
>diesel-powered train to a reenactment site, whereat we
>reactors enjoyed our Civil War-fantasy fighting. We
>were having fun with guns, igniting and burning
>gunpowder to make smoke and noise with the big girls
>and boys, educating, enlightening and entertaining our
>appreciative audiences aboard and outside of that old
>train. A few of our cavalry friends [Custer and Lee
>among them] joined in, having parked their pickup
>trucks, SUVs and horse trailers near the edge of the
>grassy battlefield. It was hot fun in the summertime
>[quote Sly and the Family Stone].
> Let me look at my papers, pictures and notes,
>folks. Take a break. I have clipped, copied, pasted
>and printed relevant reenactment photo stories from
>The Middletown Journal and The Western Star. A
>Cincinnati Enquirer reporter and your EKM Buckeye
>Bureau Chief also took pictures of each other. I will
>also save this story to photo CDs. Yes, I had to once
>again make and autograph a thousand [or less] copies
>for my many family members, fans and friends. They
>ought to be worth at least ten dollars apiece…though
>twenty would be plenty.
>
>Saturday morning, August 4, 2007
>
> Although, on Friday, I had loaded my fun and gun
>stuff into my car, I thought about not going to this
>train-robbery reenactment, in Lebanon, because of an
>ominous omen: My garage door would not open when I
>pushed the button next to door. This was a sign. I
>unplugged the wire from the top receptacle and plugged
>it into the one below to make the door motor work
>again, thereby opening the door once more…letting in
>the heat of this Saturday morning that was a warning
>about what lay ahead to dread.
>
> Main Street/Route 48 had been blocked off for the car
>show and the 9th Annual Lebanon Blues Festival,
>neither of which your Buckeye Bureau Chief had
>previously attended. I found that small, reenactor
>encampment, seeing about six canvas tents that had
>been set up in a tree-shaded yard, above and across
>the street from a couple of furniture stores; where a
>few of us parked and unloaded our vehicles. Your
>Buckeye Bureau Chief was still wearing his sandals and
>shorts, of course, arriving in time to take digital
>images of the opening ceremonies nearby: Confederate
>and Union units lined up on the sidewalk in front of
>the old post office, where they attached their flags
>to the halyard of a tall pole and raised them
>together, first national CSA flag hanging below the
>USA banner. The stars-and-bars battle flag creates
>controversy. I regret not going into this old brick
>building to look at the miniature military model show.
>
> This time, [honorary dance rank] Captain Harrison had
>decided to carry his old pawnshop Hawken .50 caliber
>rifle and wear his Remington .44 caliber pistol,
>instead of bringing his longer heavier Springfield
>with its bothersome bayonet. He also deliberately
>demoted himself to the rank of private, if only to
>wear his shorter lighter bare-sleeved shell jacket and
>avoid the expectations and responsibilities of higher
>rank. This was relief, dressing and unloading while
>being parked so close to this six-tent encampment.
> Private Harrison recognized some of his fellow
>reenactors from Company C of the 48th Ohio Volunteer
>Infantry and the Confederate States Marine Corps, with
>First Sergeant Jeff Stein, Chaplain Dan Mason, and a
>few attached civilians, women and walk-ons.
>“Where’s your coat at, Sarge?” asked a familiar
>private with whom he had reenacted before.
>“It’s too hot for it. Today, I’m a private,” replied
>Private Harrison.
>The Confederate Marines wore blue kepis with gray
>jackets and white trousers. Later, most of these folks
>would be wearing shirts without coats.
> Every once in awhile, everyone in Lebanon could hear
>the distant thunderous report of a cannon shot,
>muffled by the buildings and trees. On Sunday morning,
>before attending Chaplain Dan Mason’s sermon at the
>reenactor encampment, your BBC would drive up to the
>Glendower Mansion Museum to visit with members of the
>Ohio Valley Civil War Association at their small
>encampment. The O.V.C.W.A. is a professional education
>unit that sets up displays and participates at the
>Dayton VA Memorial Day event every year, including
>firing a cannon. They do not “play cowboys and Indians
>or army” like reenactors do, as they will tell you.
> However, these few “real” professional OVCWA
>soldiers cannot demonstrate Civil War battles by
>marching, moving and shooting across big hot humid
>open battlefields under sunny summer skies, like us
>regular reenactor gals and guys. Hhhmmm…maybe, they
>are smarter than the rest if not the best of us
>reenactors? They did not want to take free train rides
>for a few warm performances. They know their stuff and
>have interesting displays, including the only cannon
>at this event; except for that miniature gun that was
>fired on the lawn of the reenactor encampment yard
>just for fun.
>
> Prior to this first-ever LM&M train-robbery
>reenactment, your BBC had done some research with
>Internet web pages that he had printed and saved. The
>CO of the Confederate Marines, Captain Michael E.
>White, had worked with the owners and operators of the
>Lebanon, Mason and Monroe Railroad to organize five
>train rides for passengers and reenactors, three on
>Saturday and two on Sunday.
> The LM&M Railroad owns, operates and maintains
>twenty-five miles of track between Lebanon, Mason, and
>Monroe, Ohio. The 1950s GM GP-7 diesel-electric
>locomotive pulls and pushes [returning to Lebanon in
>reverse] four 1930s passenger carriages and an open
>gondola car [equipped with two long back-to-back
>wooden benches located in the center]. The gondola
>railcar was located between cars #3 and #4.
> At the Lebanon railway station, some
>suspicious-looking southern-talking 1860s-attired
>civilians mingled with the Union soldiers and
>passengers who were waiting and boarding the train at
>the depot, including womenfolk who were wearing long
>dresses and hoop skirts with bonnets, while carrying
>baskets. One big suspicious-looking southern civilian
>kept sipping from a shiny flask, even offering Private
>Harrison a taste, which he politely declined.
> “Lieutenant, I can smell scalawags and bushwhackers,”
>said Private Harrison, as they mingled with the crowd
>before boarding the train.
>“Are you a child or a young’un?”, he asked some little
>ones just for fun. “It’s a trick question. Well, okay,
>normally reenactors don’t like to pose for pictures,”
>he stated as he proudly performed and posed for
>passenger photos.
>Reenactors kept looking up at that bright blue sky,
>wondering aloud about the weather: hopeful, grateful
>and relieved when slowly drifting high white cumulus
>clouds would briefly shade them from the bright
>sunshine. This did nothing to reduce the humidity
>[yes, things are worse in Fallujah and Haditha and
>Kandahar and…].
> The scenario and show started at the station and at
>the very end of the train: Lt. Davidson and a few of
>his Federal troops entered car #4, carrying a
>rope-handled wooden money box [filled with copies of
>period paper money], getting the attention of the
>passengers as they walked through this and the other
>passenger cars. The robberies started at car #1 while
>the train was moving.
> “I know that you’ve got questions! No, we do not
>shoot real bullets! Just relax and enjoy the ride
>because nothing’s goin’ to happen!” announced Lt.
>Davidson, while his few troops japed and jibed and
>funned with the passengers and one another, including
>some lovely ladies and young’uns.
> Since reenactors are in fact and to varying degrees
>actors and actresses, their adlibbed comical comments
>and routines improved with repetition. An announcer
>conductor also got better at reading from his script
>into a microphone. He and the sound system were
>located at the snack-bar station, at the front end of
>one of the cars. During each trip, he told the
>passengers about the train and about the railroads
>during the Civil War; joking and adlibbing along with
>these train-robbery reenactments. Like PACs and
>politicians, they revised reality and twisted history,
>Pvt. Harrison kidding with passengers about Morgan’s
>Raiders robbing trains. Reenactors also played with
>the funny money and passed it out as souvenirs.
> “History is written by the victors, and by the
>Buckeye Bureau Chief who knows the publisher of East
>Kentucky Magazine.” – Leon Harrison.
>Although he was only a private, our hot handsome
>humble hero did a lot of smiling and kepi tipping to
>the ladies. They had to squeeze through the aisles
>between the seats and walk around each other and the
>conductor who was punching tickets to count
>passengers. People quickly adapted and adjusted their
>balance as they walked through these swaying vibrating
>railcars, using seatbacks for handholds, feeling the
>big steel wheels rolling along on the rails below the
>concrete floors. These railcars had been built with
>concrete floors to keep their centers of gravity low,
>enough weight to keep them on the tracks at 65 mph.
>Yes, they used to travel that fast.
> With the moneybox and guards finally in place, the
>reenactors gathered to start the fun inside car #1:
>two Union troops sat or stood at each end of the car
>to guard the moneybox; the lieutenant or other
>soldiers sitting with it near the middle of the car.
>Uniformed Confederate soldiers remained hidden out of
>sight inside the small doorway vestibule at the very
>end of the car. Suspicious-looking civilians started
>sneaking into the car and taking their places,
>including those chattering nattering womenfolk who
>were carrying baskets; Joy Fowler [of West Harrison,
>Indiana] also carried a red “self defense” book. Her
>lovely young teenaged daughter was accompanying her.
>Being northern gentlemen (especially Pvt. Harrison),
>these nice polite Yankees even offered them seats,
>conversation and companionship. The amused and curious
>passengers were smiling and sweating and taking
>pictures while they looked at and listened to all of
>this, most of them having naturally never seen nor
>heard of such strange goings on before. Your BBC tried
>to take a few discreet digital images with his small
>SONY camera.
>
> Prior to boarding, LM&M passengers are warned that
>there are no toilets on these four old 1930s passenger
>carriages. People were lining up and trying to go
>inside the depot restrooms, knowing that they’d have
>to wait until they got to the plastic portable potties
>that were at the tree-shaded picnic playground
>battle-reenactment site. During the trip, young candy
>sellers walked through the cars, carrying it in a
>neck-strapped box.
>These authentic old passenger cars are not
>air-conditioned. One floor fan was set up and
>swiveling at the end of one car; Pvt. Harrison sat and
>shared it during one return trip. While rolling upon
>and along the rails, at about ten miles per hour,
>there was not much of a breeze to blow through those
>too few opened windows; reminding us about the reality
>of old-fashioned rail travel without hot cinders and
>dirty coal smoke coming from a steam engine. Nor are
>these cars heated during wintertime. Still, train
>buffs, tourists and reenactors like a couple of hours
>of just-enough railroad nostalgia.
> The open-air gondola car is cooler but crowded;
>passengers can stand, sit and chat while looking at
>the passing greenery and scenery, the farms, fields
>and buildings. It was fun, exchanging smiles and waves
>with people who were watching and waiting inside their
>cars for the train to pass and clear the crossings.
>
>Saturday, August 4, 2007, LM&M Railroad car #1
>
> Joy Fowler walked up to let unsuspecting Union
>soldiers look at her red “self-defense” book. She
>opened the cover and pulled out a little pistol! Much
>to their regret, her Confederette confederates pulled
>little pistols out of their baskets! One of them
>pulled a big gun from the holster that she had
>strapped to her leg! A big gray-bearded man joined in
>with his friends! The big whiskey-drinkin’ civilian
>pulled and pointed a pistol too! A black-clad Chaplain
>Mason did likewise and started smiling and singing a
>hymn, trying to get the passengers to sing along with
>him! Blasphemy! Treachery! Hoodwinked and tricked by
>women again! Captain White entering the car with
>pistol drawn and his gray-clad rebel rabble behind
>him, announcing that they were taking over the train!
>Angry outraged shocked surprised Yankees held up their
>hands in surrender, while keeping their weapons,
>giving up the moneybox to their Confederate captors,
>being herded toward the rear of the car while
>passengers laughed and took pictures.
> “Hey, do ya need another partner?” asked
>Private Harrison.
> “Shut up, Yankee, and keep movin’!”
> “Now, lady, that’s a mechanical object and
>you’ll hurt yourself.”
> “I’ll fill you full of lead, Yankee!”
> “Have you ever been to San Francisco? That
>money would buy a lot of pretty dresses and perfume!”
> “I’m in the Ninth Louisiana and what do I care
>about dresses?”
> “We could go to New Orleans! It’s okay except
>for the heat and Yellow Fever.”
> “Shut up, Yankee, and start walkin’!”
> “Now, don’t let these bare sleeves fool ya,
>I’ve been a sergeant two or three times!”
> “Shut up, Yankee, you’re on your way to
>Andersonville!”
> “Hey, Rube, uh…Reb, do you have any idea how
>much good whiskey that money can buy, and not that
>rotgut stuff that you’ve been drinkin’?”
> “Shut up, Yankee, and keep movin’!”
> “Honey, have you ever been to Dayton?”
> “No, why?”
> “It’s the Paris of the Midwest. We can go
>there!”
> “Shut up and move it, Yankee!”
> “You’re meaner than my Indian wife and my
>Mexican wife put together! Tricked by women again!”
> “Shut up, Yankee!”
> “Ma’am, with that money, we can go to London or
>Paris or San Francisco!”
> “Shut up, Yankee!”
>
> Yes, I know that even when the Old Cold Warrior
>was a Specialist Fourth Class, almost three decades
>before he was promoted to the [honorary dance] rank of
>captain in the Harlan County Battalion, Private
>Harrison had learned how to act, if not behave, like
>an officer. After all, he had been born [on May 12,
>1950] a northern gentleman in Dayton, Ohio.
> Thus, during this recent train-robbery
>reenactment, Pvt. Harrison had to stretch his acting
>abilities, to authentically and convincingly perform
>as and portray a typical Civil War-period Union
>private: concerning his character’s behavior, manners,
>language and conversations, regarding his responses
>and interactions with womenfolk a.k.a. the female
>species. Therefore, he had to act like an arrogant
>amoral/immoral insensitive chauvinistic sexist
>promiscuous pig [person who was just being
>considerate, compassionate, helpful and friendly], in
>addition to doing his sworn duty to defend the Union.
>The magnanimous Pvt. Harrison was enjoyably
>experiencing delightful dame & damsel diversity
>[without PC perversity] while mingling with marvelous
>multicultural members of the weaker sex.
> Weaker sex? Not my Ex! It may be hard for you
>to believe, but she was even stronger and smarter than
>me; I thought that slavery was okay but she got fed up
>with it. Yes, your EKMBBC knows better, because he has
>since spent thousands of dollars on romantic
>smooch-and-sweat research that has hurt; rather than
>attending Harvard, Yale or Sinclair Community College
>for more-profitable knowledge. He only went to the
>Blues Festival to do some relevant East Kentucky
>Magazine research.
>
>Saturday, August 4, 2007, continued
>
> After those treacherous traitorous train-robbing
>rebels (including their crass civilian conspirators
>and these sneaky seductive southern belles) had
>captured these too few Union heroes and their
>moneybox, inside carriage #4 (the last in line), they
>forced the Yankees outside and followed them onto the
>open-air gondola car (between #4 and #3). As prisoners
>of the Confederacy, these Union heroes were to be
>taken to a prison camp. From the snack-bar car, the
>announcer conductor told the passengers that the
>Confederates had captured the train and were now in
>command and in control of it.
> Because these Union POWs were men of honor and their
>word, their more-compassionate Confederate captors
>allowed them to keep their weapons and converse with
>captors and passengers alike. They were soon sitting
>on long wooden back-to-back benches and standing
>around next to the guardrails. Though hot outside, the
>only shade coming from passing trees beside the
>tracks, the gondola car did get a little warm wind to
>go with a better view. Outside, you could better hear
>the big steel wheels rumbling and squeaking over the
>clacking rail joints, hot brakes squealing.
> They all talked and relaxed while they drank
>and snacked, reenactors staying in character while
>joking with the passengers and children. As he had
>seen Sgt. Stein do: Pvt. Harrison put his kepi onto
>the head of a little boy who was standing by the rail,
>while his father kneeled beside him, letting him hold
>up his rifle while he took a couple of pictures for
>them; pictures that they will display, save, share and
>show for decades to come. These pictures will help
>them to remember and relive this fun-filled day. How
>many photo albums, CDs and DVDs have our reenactment
>pictures been saved in?
>
> Finally, with squealing brakes and squeaking
>wheels, the train started slowing for the stop at the
>tree-shaded picnic playground reenactment site. Near
>the wide wooden ramp by the tracks, conductors opened
>the doors and set short steel steps down upon the
>gravel. Confederates herded or followed their armed
>prisoners from the train. Reenactors started too early
>with an escape attempt, with rebs herding and then
>shooting fleeing Yankees in the back, before
>passengers had debarked from the train and taken their
>seats upon the hay bales and folding chairs that had
>been set up for them, next to the wire fence at the
>end of the picnic area field. After this, the escape
>skit was cancelled.
> Besides, passengers and reenactors needed some
>time to go to those bright-green plastic portable
>toilets, the concession stand and the reenactor
>watering station [with fruity drink] that had been set
>up on a table behind it. On the other side of the
>adjacent fence, golfers were practicing their swings
>and drives at a nearby driving range. After getting
>their soda pop and water, the refreshed and energetic
>children started playing and running toward the
>playground equipment.
> Thankfully, someone had wisely removed a couple
>of boards from the fence entrance, between the
>battlefield and the picnic area, making it easier for
>heavier more mature soldiers to step over that
>remaining plank with their guns. Pvt. Harrison told
>people that he could jump over this fence but did not
>want to show off, while grunting and lifting his leg
>across that one remaining plank. The cavalrymen and
>some infantrymen were already there, having driven or
>ridden out over the hot asphalt of two-lane country
>roads. Near the fence and near the opposite end of the
>battlefield, they awaited the arrival of their
>reenactor reinforcements.
> Across the fence at the far side of this field
>was a farmhouse with an old gray weatherworn wooden
>barn and a small (but fragrant) pigpen in back. A big
>fat sow or hog watched it all.
>“Now, you see why those men left the farm to join the
>army,” said Private Harrison, “to escape from farm
>work in the summertime.”
> The dry thick rough field grass had grown over
>plowed ground. Later, after they stamped out a small
>smoldering patch of grass, reactors joked about
>reenacting the 1864 battle of The Wilderness. Before
>all five battles, after stepping over the fence gap,
>the Yankees had to walk across this field, while the
>Rebels got to wait at the end in front of the
>audience. Therefore, the Federals had to march,
>maneuver and shoot across this field ten times. Twice,
>the riffraff-rebel-rabble attacked, advanced and drove
>these heroic Federal forces back, causing them to
>retreat in defeat, just to be fair out there.
> Despite all of this talk about walking, these Union
>troops had one great advantage during each and every
>one of these five battles: these fearless ferocious
>Federals faced the audience and the cameras while the
>Confederates had to fight with their backs to them.
> After the cavalrymen engaged with pistols popping and
>shiny sabers slashing and clicking, snorting sweating
>horses dancing and prancing close and running, the
>Union infantry started with two small units that got
>smaller, with fewer troops wearing coats, after each
>battle. They advanced or retreated across the grass.
>All experienced reenactors, Lt. Davidson and Sgt.
>Stein directed and led them, firing by file and by
>volley and at will [They will always joke about
>Will!]. Cheering and jeering, whooping and hollering,
>fussing and cussing as big clumsy sweaty fingers
>started dropping caps and cartridges onto the grass,
>loading on the move or while standing in rank. Taking
>a hit and laying down on the grass gave no relief from
>the heat, save for the guys who were avoiding
>unnecessary exercise. Pvt. Harrison has yet to flop
>onto a fragrant fresh moist warm pile of horse poop.
>
> That “cleaner” black-gunpowder substitute IS NOT as
>good as the real dirty loud smoky smelly black
>authentic stuff…that is more corrosive. Pvt. Harrison
>got to shoot his Remington revolver thirty times!
>Minus misfires. That clean powder made it sound like a
>cap pistol, crack, crack, crack. The barrel of his old
>pawnshop Hawken got so hot that he lost a couple of
>brass barrel pins that had loosened and fell out…out
>there somewhere. Where will someone find them and
>when?
>“Cease fire!…Cease fire!…Cease fire!” Silence… quiet…a
>mounted General/Private Lee playing “Taps” with a
>bugle on horseback, he and his horse breathing heavy
>and sweating with fatigue. You try blowing a bugle
>sometime. Although he wasn’t as good as Montgomery
>Clift, his bugle call sounded sincere, solemn and good
>enough to moisten the driest of eyes and get the
>silent respectful reverent attention of everyone
>there. “Resurrection!…Resurrection!…Resurrection!”
> Brothers and sisters once more, blue and gray-clad
>soldiers looked around and got up, hearing the
>applause and cheers coming from the audience, adding
>their own clever comical comments and jokes to those
>of those other friendly folks. With relief, the
>soldiers eagerly drank water from their canteens and
>splashed it on their faces and poured it over their
>sweaty heads. They started walking back toward the
>fence.
>Five times that weekend, after Taps and resurrection,
>First Sergeant Jeff Stein walked directly to the fence
>to lean upon it and address the crowd, repeating his
>regular routine to remind us all about our history,
>and about why we reenact with respect, to honor and
>remember those thousands of long-dead Civil War
>soldiers:
> “Yes, it’s a lot of fun! Why do we do it? We do it
>for you, and to honor and remember those heroes on
>both sides! Six hundred and twenty-three thousand
>soldiers died during the Civil War! There was no right
>or wrong because they all believed in what they were
>fighting for! On one day, at the battle of Antietam,
>there were over twenty thousand casualties, killed,
>wounded and missing! At Gettysburg, there were over
>forty-three thousand casualties on both sides! After
>the battle, General Lee’s wagon train of wounded was
>thirteen miles long! At The Wilderness, General Grant
>lost eight thousand soldiers in one hour!”
>
> Then, it was over the fence to mingle with the
>audience, answer their questions, and either take or
>pose for pictures with them, before walking into the
>shade under big tall trees. For the very first time
>[without makeup, mineral water, motivation, a stunt
>double or rehearsal], Pvt. Harrison performed in Sgt.
>Stein’s classic comical “drunken duel” skit: standing
>behind him and off to one side, where he waited to
>take a hit after the arguing staggering Stein fired a
>high pistol shot up into the air there. Maybe a couple
>of guys from both sides took hits at the same time. It
>didn’t matter that much because the people loved it
>and laughed and took their pictures and home movies.
>This skit ends with the two staggering drunken
>duelists becoming buddies, bodies lying upon the
>ground around them.
> That weekend, Pvt. Harrison enjoyed eating
>concession-stand hot dogs, hamburgers and
>cheeseburgers with chips, soda pop and water. After
>each battle, there was time enough to eat, sit and
>converse with people at a few aluminum picnic tables,
>after taking off hats, coats and gear, here. After
>lining up and getting back onto the train, the
>locomotive pushed them back to Lebanon, car #4 (with
>an engineer and controls) in front.
> The gondola car was crowded with people who were
>trying to get a little breeze to go with the passing
>countryside, greenery and scenery. Pvt. Harrison also
>found open vestibule windows from which he stuck out
>his head, some people taking his picture from the
>gondola car. Tired passengers and reenactors still had
>fun exchanging friendly waves with the people they
>passed by, looking down at them, the fields and the
>roads. Pvt. Harrison waved his sweaty kepi. The
>reenactors were not very energetic or enthusiastic
>during that third and last Saturday-afternoon train
>ride.
>
> After the last train ride ended, that Saturday
>evening, Private Harrison returned to his car and put
>on his civilian sandals, shirt and shorts, of course.
>Your BBC was going to the Blues Festival for the very
>first time! The first stop was Doc’s
>[air-conditioned!] Place for a good fish sandwich,
>which was served with French fries and a couple of
>cold beers. After this fine dining, drinking and
>thinking, he left and started walking around and
>taking digital images, listening to the good blues
>music that grew louder as he walked toward the stage
>that had been set up at the end of another adjacent
>blocked-off downtown street.
> He walked by the Golden Lamb Hotel Restaurant
>and along Main Street to look at a few of the old and
>classic cars that still remained parked after the car
>show had ended. The Lebanon Blues Festival also seemed
>to be a food and booze festival, at least inside the
>Best Café, where your BBC saw and photographed four
>uniformed OVCWA members who were standing and drinking
>at the busy loud crowded bar. They had come down from
>the mansion on the hill.
>Near the stage, beer tickets were on sale outside the
>grassy square there. Plenty of white plastic chairs
>had been set up with tables. People also sat on
>balconies, sidewalks, front steps, or on lawn chairs
>or blankets, laid out upon the grassy ground around
>the stage. People mingled, talked, laughed and even
>listened to the music while reaching into their
>coolers. Various vendors were cooking and barbecuing
>and selling food with cold drinks from stands they had
>set up along both sides of the street. Barbecue, booze
>and food!
> It was nice to see that the typical local
>old-fashioned American civic, church, business, school
>and sports organizations had also set up their booths
>and stands with their patriotic, political and
>promotional displays. Yes, America still lives and
>survives and thrives. It was more hot fun in the
>summertime, outside and offline with real normal
>polite semi-civilized English-speaking
>people…including the drinkers and the thinkers.
>The asphalt and concrete held the daytime heat and
>reverberated the blues music that echoed with the beat
>and vocals and rhythms of those musicians and singers;
>who made us dance, drink, think, remember and linger
>as we moved to and with the music. Thank God that your
>EKMBBC was not tempted to move into one of those two
>old motels or into a spouseless house for the night.
>He did briefly consider staying just an hour or two
>longer to do just a little more romantic research that
>could not hurt. He saw some pretty, potential EKM
>cover girl/centerfold models who were neither too
>young nor too old…who might be just right [for EKM and
>him] that Saturday night. As if he was maybe missing
>some kissing that he could and should be resisting.
>Okay, so he drove back home [to West Carrollton]
>alone, and again, without the company of a newfound
>female friend. “Stay sober and never reenact with a
>hangover” is his always-followed motto. Besides, he
>needed to sleep, after taking some drugs and sitting
>and soaking in a nice hot bath. His army clothes were
>wet with sweat.
>
>Sunday morning, August 5, 2007
>
> Private Harrison woke up early, tired and sore, that
>Sunday morning, not eager to get up, much less ride a
>railroad train and reenact (at least for a week or
>two). As he lazily lay abed, his conscience pestered
>him with an obligatory sense of duty and esprit de
>corps. Besides, where else could he have so much fun
>with girls and guns? After driving back to Lebanon, he
>drove up to the OVCWA encampment at the Glendower
>Mansion to chat and take a few pictures.
> After driving back downtown and parking his car
>at the furniture store, he walked across the street
>and up to the reenactor encampment, arriving in time
>to listen to Chaplain Mason’s Sunday sermon, enjoying
>it with his fellow and female reenactors. This Sunday
>was another fun day, despite it being even hotter than
>Saturday had been. It was a relief to only do two
>train trips [entailing eight railcar robberies] with
>two battle reenactments.
> By Sunday, Private Harrison and his confederates had
>perfected their adlibbed Emmy-worthy parts and
>performances:
> During one of those two Sunday train rides,
>while Pvt. Harrison was sitting and napping at the end
>of a carriage, an inconsiderate Confederette woke him
>up with her big pistol, pointing it at him and
>scaring, surprising and confusing him.
> “Wake up, Yankee! You’re a prisoner!”
> “I’m sorry. I don’t remember! I was drunk. I
>didn’t know what I was doin’! Let’s get married and
>split the money, honey!”
> “Shut up, Yankee, and get movin’!”
>
> During each of these five train rides, these
>resourceful resilient reenactors had occupied and
>robbed four railcars, a weekend total of twenty times.
>These 20 railcar robberies were followed by five
>reenacted battles: Saturday battle #1, Rebs win, Pvt.
>Harrison KIA [women weep]; battle #2, Pvt. Harrison
>leads Union troops to victory; battle #3, draw after
>both sides cease fire, call a truce, split the money
>and go their separate ways. Sunday battle #1, Rebs win
>by killing Pvt. Harrison; battle #2, Yankees win
>despite the third and final dramatic death scene that
>was so perfectly and professionally performed by the
>brave courageous noble selfless handsome heroic
>Private Harrison.
> During the second and last Sunday battle, which the
>Union [Grandpa Squad] won, Private Harrison made a
>horrible mistake, taking a hit and dying too far out
>from the crowd! He thereby wasted his third and last
>dramatic death scene, unless it was seen and
>photographed through telephoto lenses…not that he
>cared about performing for pictures.
> After that last train ride, your EKMBBC also sort of
>regrets not sticking around to help his fatigued
>fellow and female reenactors decamp and load up their
>stuff. He had to get out of his soggy smelly sweaty
>wet uniform and drive directly to the Buckeye Bureau
>to get started on this story.
>
>Sunday evening, August 12, 2007
>
>Because this Blues Festival and
>train-robbery-reenactment weekend was so much fun, my
>reenactor fans and friends I will probably do this
>again, next year. If the weather is a little cooler, I
>may even promote himself back to the rank of sergeant
>and wear my sack jacket with my stripes on the
>sleeves…but without the bayonet and Springfield.
>
>
>EKMBBC Pvt./Sgt./Lt./Capt. Leon Harrison, G.C.M.
>Duke of Hazard and Appalachian-American Ambassador
>
>EKM Buckeye Bureau
>West Carrollton, Ohio
[
Next Thread |
Previous Thread |
Next Message |
Previous Message
]
| |
