Tag Archives: historical attractions
Living history at the 2010 Spirit of Vincennes Rendezvous
To view larger or order prints from the 2010 Spirit of Vincennes Rendezvous, click here
The Spirit of Vincennes Rendezvous, held in Vincennes, Indiana, a charming town on the banks of the Wabash River full of historic attractions and living history, always feels like a homecoming.
Which it is for myself, as I spent several years living and working there. But it’s not just me. I see the same spirit in the re-enactors, the merchants – even the crowd itself. It had been about seven years since I found myself near Vincennes in May, and I was itchy for it weeks before the event. And I wasn’t disappointed. Meeting up with people I hadn’t seen in half a decade was like coming home. As was seeing the faces that travel the re-enactor’s circuit, many of which I last saw the last time I was here. Vincennes has always been a crossroad for history. And it’s a crossroads still.
Held on Memorial Day Weekend, right when the weather turns hot and muggy, the activities spill out from the historical site into the town itself.
Vincennes breathes history. From its earliest native American roots, still visible in a couple of impressive mounds on the outskirts of town (as well as some smaller ones still visible around town), to its beginnings as a French fur trapping settlement, to the American Revolution, and its later history as a river town, Vincennes has witnessed more than its share of history.
Let’s run down a partial list. Vincennes was the first capital of the Indiana Territory, had the first Catholic and Presbyterian churches in Indiana, the first newspaper in Indiana, the first masonic lodge in Indiana, first bank in Indiana, first post office and sheriff’s department in Indiana, the first European settlement in Indiana, home of president William Henry Harrison, the site that he staged his troops for the Battle of Tippecanoe, and the site of his famous meeting with the Indian leader Tecumseh. Plus the birthplace of Red Skelton, which the locals will not let you forget.
The event remembered in the Spirit of Vincennes Rendezvous is the taking of Fort Sackville in the Revolutionary War. In the winter of 1779, George Rogers Clark and his group of of Kentucky volunteers, marched through the icy Wabash River bottoms to take the British fort at Vincennes. There was a strategic advantage to holding the fort to be sure, but another important benefit to the war effort was that it became proof of success which George Washington could use to persuade the French to join the conflict.
And it gives a legion of merchants, re-enactors of living history and those who like brats and buffalo burgers, a reason to gather in the balmy midwestern heat for a couple days each year. The reenactment of the battle is of course, nothing close to authentic since the fort is long since gone, but instead more of a demonstration of military tactics of the period. Still impressive all the same. The merchants and entertainers, while not always authentic to the time period, are certainly abundant. And it’s all held more or less, on the site of Clark’s victory over the British.
2010 Spirit of Vincennes Rendezvous
George Rogers Clark National Historic Park in Vincennes is the home of one of the last classical memorials created by the United States government, built of granite and encircled by sixteen fluted Doric columns, under a dome of glass. Inside it’s just as breathtaking, with a bronze statue of Clark by Hermon Atkins MacNeil, surrounded by marble wainscoting and murals of the events of Clark at Vincennes. The view from the top of the stairs includes the cathedral and old burial ground, and the Lincoln memorial bridge crossing the Wabash.
Best of all though is the acoustics at the top of the stairs, against the walls of the memorial. At the end of the official activities on Saturday evening, when the troops have all been fed, an unadvertised treat awaits those who linger. Gradually, members of the various fife and drum corps make their way to the memorial for an impromptu jam session of sorts, where the drums ricochet off the building and the fifes swirl around on top, in a deafening cacophony of military music.
Situated adjacent to the old, downtown area of Vincennes, and a short walk from the other historic sites in town, a visitor is able to wander freely after hours, and take part in a variety of events. At the ball in the yard of William Henry Harrison’s home, Grouseland, there were at times pushing a hundred people, some in period dress, some just wandering in off the street, following the calls of dances two hundred or more years old. The various historical buildings were open for candlelit tours, and what was supposed to have ended for me at five in the afternoon, finally wrapped up with much sadness about ten.
Which I might add, was better than some of the times when I was more involved with the after hours activities. There was the year for instance, when I nearly slept on the grass, under the stars someplace in the vicinity of the encampment, with the smell of wood fires and the sound of music being played around campfires wafting in and out of my brain. As I said, it was a sort of homecoming for me as well, and my old home was staggering distance from the site. But I digress …
Mark your calendar for next year – Memorial Day weekend, Vincennes, Indiana, two days of historic attractions, roasted dinners, dancing, baking heat and usually a thunderstorm or two. Look for me on the steps of the memorial, just about sundown.
South Carolina’s Low Country: A Jimmy Buffet lifestyle meets the old South
To view more photos or order prints from South Carolina’s Low Country, click here
People call it the lowcountry, or low country, and it’s made up of the coastal lands south of Charleston, South Carolina, including Beaufort, Colleton, Hampton and Jasper counties. Some include Charleston, some don’t. Some include Myrtle Beach. But all seem to agree that it’s as much a state of mind as a geographic area.
I just spent a week in the lowcountry, in a house on Edisto Beach, where I’m assured by the travel literature that I’ve had the real island living experience.
Lowcountry refers to the fact that much of the land is at sea level. In short, much of the time you’re in a swamp, or to put it euphemistically, a coastal wetland. There’s beauty in the lowlands. A subtle beauty perhaps – wild, earthy and damp. Shooting photos along side Store Creek, I found myself growing increasingly creeped out when I remembered that I was less than a hundred yards away from a tourist attraction called the Serpentarium. The point was drilled home a day or two later when I noticed a freshly squashed rattlesnake on the highway.
The first evening there we were treated to a dramatic thunderstorm, complete with torrential rains. The dunes lay between my screened-in porch and the beach, spanned by a boardwalk. Usually this is to protect the dunes. But these dunes aren’t covered with dune grass. Instead you have your own private swamp between you and the beach, and after the storm, the frogs started. Eventually I had to call someone to let them hear the chorus, which eventually got so loud we literally had to go inside to escape the sound. The next night, and all subsequent nights they were gone.
I’m not a beach person. I prefer my beaches strewn with stones and boulders rather than sand. But I can adapt to warm water. Don’t get me wrong, Edisto Beach is certainly a nice place to spend a week or two. But at times it feels more like a plantation lifestyle, rather than a Jimmy Buffet song.
There are former plantations a plenty on Edisto Island, but most are in private hands, and the only view you’ll likely get is of an avenue of oaks behind wrought iron gates. Edisto island was settled during the early days of our country, first by the Spanish, then by the English. Commerce thrived with the production of sea island cotton, considered the king of all cottons, and untold wealth poured into the area up to the Civil War. Or the War Between the States, the Confederate War, or whatever your politics lead you to call it.
This wealth was made possible with slave labor, and there’s no getting around that. By most reports, slavery in the low country was less abhorrent than in other places, not only because of a system which gave the slave more free time to live their life, but perhaps a bit more respect as well. But there were atrocities too.
And the low country is certainly haunted. There are enough legends and stories to keep a ghost-hunter busy for some time.
The war slowed commerce, and the boll weevil finished the cotton trade. Farming now consists of vegetables, fruits and tourists.
Edisto Beach is certainly one of the less touristy spots a person could visit. There are only a few gift shops in town, a scattering of restaurants and most refreshingly, very few tourist traps. There is also only one grocery store in town, and one liquor store. If you come for a visit, it’s best to come prepared, or be prepared to pay.
You come onto the island down SC 174, and there’s no getting away from the fact that you’re in the deep south. Alongside the highway you find farm stands – fruit, boiled peanuts, sweet corn and a variety of sea creatures ready to boil. There are also churches dotting the landscape, at times less than a mile apart.
There’s no escaping the poverty. Many of the houses lining the highway are little more than shacks, with blacks sitting on the porches, trying to avoid the heat. One out of five residents on Edisto island under the age of 18 are below the poverty line, and over one in three over the age of 65. The median household income for the island is just under 26,000. But once you hit Edisto Beach, it jumps to $54,400. The percentage of blacks, which is at 40% on the whole island, drops to below 3% in Edisto Beach.
In short, as someone told me down there, they just haven’t gotten the hang of desegregation. Instead of working the plantations, now blacks work the Piggly Wiggly.
The lowcountry gullah culture of the African-Americans has preserved more of their African heritage than anyplace else in the United States. In fact, it’s one of the biggest tourist attractions to the area. Unfortunately, there seems to be less interest in the individual as there is in the culture. In the 140 page South Carolina Low Country Tourist Guide, there are no black families enjoying the beach and sites. Only living history demonstrators and performers.
But hey! It’s the old south, and if this kind of thing bothers you, you’re in the wrong place. As Lynyrd Skynyrd pointed out to Neil Young, who took Alabama to task for the treatment of blacks in Alabama, “southern man don’t need him around, anyhow.” The politics are nuanced and well beyond me, and besides, I was on vacation.
Sitting at home now, a few days later, scratching my chigger and mosquito bites, as well as poison ivy and other assorted bites and rashes, I find myself missing the place. But I just can’t put my finger on why.
On Edisto Beach, bottle-nosed dolphins swim just off -shore, sometimes in twos and threes. The sunsets are majestic, the light dancing over the wetlands magical. And gnarled oaks hung heavily with Spanish moss is about as magical as you can get. There’s history for those who look for it, but once again, it’s a subtle history. An abandoned plantation here, a ruined church there. A minor battle or skirmish from the revolution or War Between the States. Subtle enough that you get a feeling of discovery when you come across them, and all draped in that magical moss.
Then there’s Beaufort. Instantly recognizable for anyone who saw Forrest Gump, it’s an example of the southern tendency to remember and live with its past. If you were to suddenly materialize in New York City, Chicago, London – any number of increasingly faceless cities – you’d have a hard time knowing where you were. But find yourself in Beaufort, or it’s larger sister, Charleston, and you’ll instantly know you’re in the south. The architecture stuns the senses with grandeur and intricate details. Civic buildings, shops and houses aren’t pulled down as frequently for new projects. Instead, new businesses go into old structures. In places, whole towns seems like one interconnected historical attraction. It’s not living history, the people there are surrounded by history every day.
And then there’s the landscape. The wetlands, the oaks dripping with Spanish moss, as well as the baking heat, all come together to give the area a sense of identity. One that can’t be altered by architectural styles, history or politics.
Maybe that’s the key to island living. Life and change moves slowly, and some things never change. Like a pile of shrimp at the end of the day, rum drinks with fruit juices and the sun sinking into the sea, wondering where the time goes.
Posted in South Carolina, Southern Seaboard
Also tagged art prints, low country, south carolina lowcountry, travel photographer
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Newbury and Newburyport, Massachusetts: Early American history and historical attractions from the colonial era in an enchanted New England landscape
Spencer-Peirce-Little Farm, circa 1695, Newbury, Essex county, Massachusetts
To view more photos from Newbury and Newburyport, Massachusetts, or to order prints, click here
Newbury reminds me of the west of Ireland. You come into Newbury via a roundabout. Head one direction and you’re going back in time to Newbury’s early American roots, to Newbury itself. Take off in the other and you end up in Newburyport, a town full of subtle historic attractions in a resort-type atmosphere. Or as I was told by a resident, if you’re looking for the historic attractions, just go up and down Massachusetts 1A – it’s all there.
Like Ireland, Newbury’s history blends in with the landscape. A modern day house, relatively speaking for New England, may sit next to a First Period home. The land is still farmed, small farms with stone walls. There’s enough of the past intact to slip in and out of the 21st century just by driving down the highway.
There’s very little left of the first settlement in Newbury, just a stone marker near the banks of the Parker River, where young Nicholas Noyes leapt ashore in 1634 with about a 100 pilgrims from Wiltshire, England. The original name for the river was Quascacunquen, which was an Native American term for waterfall. The falls are still there, where the river is bridged by Central street. If you head south from the bridge, you’ll find a charming, quintessential New England countryside. Head north and you’re following the path of settlement from the town’s founding
Newbury suffered the same fate of many of the early American colonial settlements. It’s roots were farming, fishing and hunting, and except for spells of industry, those roots have held throughout the centuries. Today, fishing and hunting are done recreationally, and indeed, Newbury has been a popular tourist destination since Victorian times. It’s just that it finds it hard to compete with its more glamorous neighbor, Newburyport.
As you come up Route 1, a keen eye will catch the First Burying Ground of the Settlers on the left hand side of the road. Founded in 1635, you’ll come across the names of the earliest settlers of Newbury. Graveyard travelers will find much to like about this one – some great carvings, winged effigies and other symbols, even stones to mark graves when no head stones were available. The Burying Ground was restored in 1929, and you’ll notice several stones with extremely old dates that look rather, well new actually. It’s not great conservation, they’re restorations.
Next up on the right is the Dole Little House, circa 1750, one of a handful of historical attractions administered by Historic New England. Just past that is the road the leads to the Spencer-Peirce-Little Farm, which has been a working farm since 1635, with the house dating from about 1690. The house is built of local stones, with a porch and gables of bricks, and is the only 17th century stone house to survive in New England with the outer walls intact.
Further down Massachusetts 1 is the Upper Green, where the colonial militia trained starting in 1646, and scattered around it are a number of early American homes. The John Atkinson House, a first period house circa 1664-1665, has a connection to the Salem Witch hunts of 1690. According to the testimony of Sarah Atkinson, Susannah Martin visited the house during a storm some years previously, and having had to walk so far in such bad weather, she was surprised to see her bone dry and her feet mud free. The unfortunate Susannah was hung based on Sarah’s and others’ testimony.
A short distance later finds the First Parish Church of Newbury, dating from 1869, which is the third structure to bear the name, and is one of the oldest congregations in America. Then-president Gerald Ford wrote in 1984, “The values and traditions brought to Newbury by its first settlers and handed down through the decades have withstood the test of time. They are the same qualities that have made our nation great and hopefully, with the help of the citizens of today, these gifts will be treasured and protected by the generations of tomorrow.”
Life was tough for the earliest churchgoers in Newbury. The Reverend Glen Tilley Morse wrote in his Events of the Early History, “There was no heat in the first Meeting House which was probably a rude structure built of logs with cracks and crevices filled with clay to keep out the cold…. The congregation had to sit during sermons that were two hours long. They could not doze, for they would be rudely awakened by having a fox’s tail on a long rod brushed against their faces. They would be punished if they disturbed the meeting by moving about or causing any commotion and fined if they missed a meeting or service. Parishioners attended the meetings at the perils of their lives. They were in danger of attacks from Indians and wild beasts on their way to and from worship.’
In addition, armed guards were posted at the doors during services to protect against Indian attacks.
Across the road is the First Parish Burying Ground, another venerable old cemetery. Further up the road is the Coffin House, dating from 1678.
And then it’s into Newburyport. One thing you’ll notice as you travel High street from the spot where the original settlers landed, up to Newburyport, things get tidier. By the time you reach the Upper Green, houses are restored a bit better, a bit more often. But in comparison to that even, Newburyport sparkles.
As the name implies, Newburyport is on the Atlantic Ocean, and I didn’t have a chance to get down to the water, or even more than a cursory walk around the historic area. So I can’t tell you other than what I’ve seen and heard about the town’s reputation as a beautiful resort. But based on what I saw of the rest of the town, I think that’s a fair assumption.
You ever set aside a few hours for a day trip, and just before you have to leave, you find yourself in one of the most beautiful places you’ve ever been? Newburyport is like that. I got out of the car to take a photo, and found myself drawn down the street, then around the corner and I had the distinct feeling I could have gone on and on for another day or so.
Instead I found myself parked next to Bartlet Mall, the site of the Old Gaol (jail for you newcomers), and the curiously named Frog Pond. According to legends, which according to the newspaper isn’t legend but fact, there are tunnels which run beneath the pond down to the ocean, used either by the Underground Railroad in the Civil War, or were used by bootleggers. Or both. Both the Gaol and Frog Pond are reportedly haunted. And hovering over Frog Pond is the Old Burying Ground, which in addition to holding countless curious headstones, is also home to the Pierce Mausoleum, site of some of the strangest graveyard desecrations to take place in this country.
By then the sun was hanging low and I still had Concord to go, and then home to New York later that night, and it was with a heavy heart I left Newbury and Newburytown. It was there I came to the realization which is probably apparent to anyone who lives in New England, but was quite unexpected to me. If you’re looking for early American history, historical attractions, or just like to feel the past wash over you, you could spend a lifetime in New England and never see it all.
Posted in New England
Also tagged art prints, early american history, early american homes, travel photographer
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Philipsburg Manor: Historic Attraction in Historic Hudson Valley’s Sleepy Hollow
Philipsburg Manor Millhouse, Sleepy Hollow, New York
“The schoolmaster is generally a man of some importance in the female circle of a rural neighborhood; being considered a kind of idle, gentlemanlike personage, of vastly superior taste and accomplishments to the rough country swains, and, indeed, inferior in learning only to the parson. Our man of letters, therefore, was peculiarly happy in the smiles of all the country damsels. How he would figure among them in the churchyard, between services on Sundays; gathering grapes for them from the wild vines that overran the surrounding trees; reciting for their amusement all the epitaphs on the tombstones; or sauntering, with a whole bevy of them, along the banks of the adjacent millpond; while the more bashful country bumpkins hung sheepishly back, envying his superior elegance and address.
From the Legend of Sleepy Hollow by Washington Irving
Crossing the wooden bridge onto the grounds of Philipsburg Manor is like walking into a living history story book. The Legend of Sleepy Hollow is of course, fiction. But Washington Irving included enough fact and local folklore from Tarrytown and Sleepy Hollow, New York, to make it very easy to blur the lines.
The mill pond which Ichabod walked his dates around is still there, and the mill is still operational. Look in just the right direction and you see the Old Dutch Church, where his confrontation ended with the headless horseman, right there through the trees. If you’re looking for what life would have been like on Baltus Van Tassell’s farm, you’re in the right place.
Philipsburg Manor is a living history historic attraction operated by Historic Hudson Valley (which also operates Washington Irving’s Sunnyside, Van Cortland Manor and Kykuit), and they get the details right. Even the livestock is painstakingly chosen to be authentic to the period and the region. I’ve been to many restorations where everything is labelled and covered in signage, which okay, is great for learning about what you’re seeing. But it makes it damned hard to feel like you’re back in time. Given the choice between the two, I’ll do my homework first and choose the latter.
Despite the connection to Washington Irving’s whimsical story, there’s more to the history of Philipsburg Manor. Much more. Philipsburg Manor was nearly a century old by the time we get into the era in which The Legend of Sleepy Hollow was set, being founded in 1693.
Fredrick Philipse I, Lord of Philipse Manor was from the region of Netherlands called Friesland. He first settled in Flatbush on Long Island selling nails, worked his way up to tavern owner, then took the route to wealth many intelligent men through the ages have followed. He married a woman with money. Together they capitalized on a land grant from the crown, and bought a sizable estate in Westchester county and lured many of his friends there with a promise of work and low taxes.
His plantation in Sleepy Hollow, situated on the banks of the Hudson River at the point where the Pocantico River empties into it, became the center of his world-wide shipping operation. Sadly, his empire was built with slave labor. Philipse was one of the largest slave-holders in the northern colonies, purchasing at least 23 human lives. His holdings eventually stretched from the Croton River, down to what is now Riverdale, in the Bronx.
Slave cuffs at Philipsburg Manor, a historic attraction in the historic Hudson Valley's Sleepy Hollow
Today, Philipsburg Manor is both educational, and a perfect opportunity to step back in time. Restored to 1750, the manor contains many 17th and 18th century furnishings, its own dairy, offices, bedrooms, parlor and warehouse rooms. There are usually several demonstrations going on, along with many hands-on activities. Talking with an informed interpreter, like you find at Philipsburg Manor to me is a much better way of learning about a place than signs placed on or near every object.
Philipsburg Manor is undoubtedly one of my favorites of the living history restorations I’ve visited as a travel photographer. If you’re looking for an educational opportunity, you’ll find it. If you’re looking for a great book and gift shop for souvenirs and books about the area’s history, it’s one of the best. But what I like most of all, is just strolling the grounds and letting the imagination take over. It’s an enchanted place where cultures, history and folk-lore converged, and has been inspiring the imagination ever since.
“His greatest treasure of historic lore, however, was discovered in an old goblin-looking mill, situated among rocks and water-falls, with clanking wheels, and rushing streams, and all kinds of uncouth noises. A horse-shoe, nailed to the door to keep off witches and evil spirits, showed that this mill was subject to awful visitations. As we approached it, an old negro thrust his head, all dabbled with flour, out of a hole above the water-wheel, and grinned, and rolled his eyes, and looked like the very hobgoblin of the place. The illustrious Diedrich fixed upon him, at once, as the very one to give him that invaluable kind of information, never to be acquired from books. He beckoned him from his nest, sat with him by the hour on a broken mill-stone, by the side of the waterfall, heedless of the noise of the water, and the clatter of the mill; and I verily believe it was to his conference with his African sage, and the precious revelations of the good dame of the spinning wheel, that we are indebted for the surprising though true history ofIchabod Crane and the headless horseman, which has since astounded and edified the world.”
From Sleepy Hollow, by Washington Irving
Philipsburg Manor is located in Sleepy Hollow, New York, on Route 9A. For more information about Philipsburg Manor, see their website here. To learn more about Washington Irving and his associated with Sleepy Hollow, go here.
