Editor’s Note: After six weeks to reflect, Robert Bohrn penned this piece about the unveiling of Folly Beach’s historical marker for the 55^th Massachusetts Volunteer Infantry. Although the event occurred on July 15 of this year, the marker, in Folly River Park, should be a permanent source of pride for Folly residents. Although this piece recounts an event in July, we feel it carries continued relevance.

The sound of thunder was not the way I expected to wake up, on this of all mornings. After four hours of sleep, and after leaving the blue grass of Kentucky for the sea oats of Folly Beach, the rain’s ominous beating on the bedroom window was not the way I had envisioned this day beginning. But after 24 years of blood, sweat, and tears, a little Low Country rainstorm was not enough to dampen my spirits on this day of days. I did, however, say a silent prayer to those 19 soldiers. I asked that they put a word in to the Big Man upstairs about that rain that was falling on the Folly River Park. “Please,” I asked, “hold up the rain for the unveiling,” and left that matter in their hands.

The unveiling ceremony for the first S.C. Historical Marker honoring 19 Union soldiers from the 55th Massachusetts Volunteer Infantry was not going to be hampered or halted because of a little rain. The 24 year wait was almost over, and the years of hard work, pitfalls, and bureaucracy was about to culminate in an event that had never before been attempted by a group of relic-hunters and supporters from across our great country. Today, an historical marker was to be draped with both South Carolina and Massachusetts state flags, and it would be unveiled for the first time.

I remember talking to The Treasure Depot magazine editor, Richard Walker, for the first of many times on the phone almost three years ago. He asked if I would write a story for the magazine about my discovery of the 19 Union African American soldiers that I had found on Folly Beach back in 1987. In the middle of that conversation, I asked about the possibility of using the Depot magazine as a venue to raise funds for the making of a historical marker for those soldiers we were talking about. He thought the idea was a great one, and well, the rest really is history. And announcement was put on the website, and a plea for donations was made. Immediately, responses were overwhelming. Relic-hunters were offering money and services faster than Richard and I had expected. One Depot member, author Tim Bradshaw, even offered to donate a book he authored, “Battery Wagner,” to the first five people who donated over $100.

In record time (this was told to me by the head of the S.C. Historical Marker department) the $1898 was raised, and other donations of money were actually returned to the donors. I then wrote nearly five versions of text for the marker, each one being scrutinized by the Historical Marker department. But, after much work, and lobbying, I wrote one that I felt would make everyone happy. My main concern was that the term “relic hunters” be included in the text, and I was not going to bend on this, period. This part of the text was approved, and the marker was ordered.

The marker was manufactured at Seewah Studios in Ohio. It was made and delivered to the city of Folly Beach in March of 2010, and there it sat in the City Hall for more than a year. Proposed dates for the unveiling ceremony came and went. Then, in April of this year, the newly elected Mayor of Folly Beach, Tim Goodwin, literally stumbled on the still-crated marker in one of the storage closets of Folly City Hall.

His office contacted me this past April and we began the process for planning what would become one of the most important dates ever in the history of the City of Folly Beach. My old friend Tim Rooks contacted me, whose wife, Toni, is the city administrator of Folly Beach. They are both dear friends of mine. Tim even officiated at my wedding that was held on Folly Beach in June of 2010. He volunteered to help in the organizing and planning of the marker ceremony He was invaluable in all the hard work he did for the “19”, and if not for him, this event would never have happened.

We contacted dozens of politicians from both the State of South Carolina and the Commonwealth of Massachusetts to be involved in the ceremony. But, sadly, none seemed very interested in honoring those who gave the last full measure of a soldier. Fortunately, S. C. State Senator Chip Campsen and S.C. Representative Tim McCoy graciously accepted our offer to speak at the ceremony. These two honorable South Carolina Legislators will always have my utmost respect and gratitude.

On that rainy morning of July 15, 2011, Tim Rooks and his crew were busy working to get the Folly Beach River Park ready for the afternoon’s ceremony. Tim had earlier erected the marker’s post and had a gravel walkway installed leading to the marker’s site. That morning, dozens of flags were hung, landscaping was finished up, and chairs were put into place.

News crews began to arrive at about 3:30, and then, my personal favorite part of the day happened. University of South Carolina anthropologist Ted Rathbun and retired SLED forensic expert and sculpture Roy Paschal arrived with two old friends of mine in hand. Ted Rathbun was the forensic anthropologist in charge of the soldiers’ remains we found on Folly Beach. He examined each soldier and determined that they where of African American descent. Roy Paschal, back in 1989, and unbeknownst to me, was asked by Ted to use forensic science to reproduce the faces from the only two complete skulls from the soldiers’ burials. On his own time, Roy scientifically sculpted the two skulls into faces that even the friends of the deceased would recognize. This past month, at my insistence, Roy had molds made of the busts and made copies of the clay models.

When I first saw these sculptures, I must admit I was mesmerized by how beautiful they were. With those two pairs of bronze eyes staring back into mine, I was at last seeing the fruits of my labors in their finely sculpted faces. There, the three of us, in the twenty-first century, were face to face. The decades of searching for Civil War artifacts had come to fruition for me. The soldiers remains that I have been so honored to have found now had faces to attach them to.

That moment, of all the moments in my search for history that I hold so dear to my heart, was the visual realization of a dream that did come true.

The Ceremony began at 6 pm, and the larger than expected crowd was a welcomed site to see. The United States Army Color Guard was comprised of soldiers from Fort Jackson’s Drill Instructors School. They represented their fallen comrades with honor and dignity. The Mayor of Folly Beach, Tim Goodwin, was the perfect host for the event, and was instrumental in the placement of the marker in the beautiful and serene Folly River Park.

The Reverend Alice Deal from the Folly Beach United Methodist Church gave a stirring and poignant invocation. Her humble and gracious words still resonate in my heart. She is certainly an asset to the City of Folly Beach, and was the perfect advocate for those who lost their lives on Folly during the Civil War.

I was asked to present an historic overview of my finding of the soldiers and what it personally meant to me. Words could never express how deeply I have been moved by this find. So, I tried to convey to the audience how lucky we are to have young men, black or white, that have lain, and still lay down their lives so that we can enjoy the fruits that the Liberty Tree still bear, but always at a tremendous cost.

S.C. State Senator Chip Campsen of the 23^rd District and S.C. Representative Tim McCoy both gave moving speeches that the crowd in attendance thoroughly enjoyed. I was honored that they took time out of their busy schedules to attend and to pay their respects to the fallen soldiers. Their words spoke of the sacrifices and deeds of those who paid the ultimate price for our freedom. Senator Campsen’s words of remembrance of the 19 soldiers was a moving speech on how we shall all remember that their loss was not really a loss, but that the beauty and serenity of the City of Folly Beach was their true memorial to us of the 21^st century. Honorable words, for honorable men, were a perfect tribute to those lost on Folly back in 1863.

Reenactors from across the country were there to pay homage to those who fell on Folly Beach. Members of the 54th Massachusetts, from all across the country, fell into formation. Relic hunter and reenactor Rick Phillips brought his men of the 8th Georgia Infantry C.S.A. They fell in besides the 54th. Rick was a huge help in the planning of this event, and I am forever in his debt. His knowledge and generosity is well known in the relic hunting community, and it is my honor to call him my friend.

The ceremony’s speeches were made, and the accolades of praise rained down on those 19 of Folly. I was then asked to join the mayor at the podium, where I was presented the Key to The City of Folly Beach. It was an honor that I cannot describe. Having grown up here and loving Folly as I do, this was an honor that I had not expected, and that I surely do not deserve.

Then, my two daughters, Caroline, Emily, and myself, unveiled the marker. The applause, cheers, and whistles of those in attendance filled the park on the Folly River. Then, as if on queue, the City of Charleston Police Departments Bagpipe Corps began playing the tune “Amazing Grace.” My daughters began the folding of the flags that had covered the marker, and presented them to me. As I stood there, at attention with my daughters, we together began to cry.

Then the Union and Confederate soldiers at the command of fire unleashed their muskets with a brigade salute with perfect military timing and bearing. The echoes of the muskets’ fire spread across the salt water marshes, just as it had been heard before on the island over 148 ago. The musket fire was punctuated by the blast of a cannon, as its sound too roared across the sea island. But this time, the black powder expended was for those who had given the last full measure of a soldier. This time, the musket and artillery fire was not fired during a time filled with war and death, but as a salute for the sacrifices of those men who gave their lives for our country.

Taps — just that word also brings a tear to my eye. Wearing a Union Army uniform, Bugler Corporal Michael Wheles played Taps so beautifully that others too in the crowd became teary eyed. The bugle’s notes wafted through the palmetto fronds as they had dozens of times on this beautiful sea island so many, many, decades ago. With the bugler’s tune completed, the United States Army Color Guard snapped to and marched through the crowd. I have never witnessed such a large group of spectators so silent, so reverent, and so intoxicated by the shear emotion of what we had all together just experienced.

As the crowd took their pictures and videos of the newly erected marker, I could not help but be overwhelmed by the ceremony that had just taken place. I felt a sense of accomplishment that we as a group of relic hunters should all feel, even today. We save history, plain and simple. Every time we head out on our digs, we hold the chance of saving history, one signal at a time. And, as we all know, that one signal can change our lives, and the lives of others.

For example, if on May 7, 1987, I had stayed home and done anything but go relic hunting, those 19 soldiers from the 55th Massachusetts would have been bulldozed into oblivion. No books, no movies, no interest in the Union African Americans role during the Civil War. By getting that one detector signal on that hot day in May of 1987, my life, and the lives of all of those people touched by the sacrifices made by those 19 Union soldiers, were changed forever.

As the ceremony ended and the crowd began to enjoy the marker, I noticed something —no rain. The 19 had come through for me. Above my head were blue skies, and a lovely sea breeze rustled through the palmetto fronds. In all of the excitement, the beautiful weather went unnoticed by me. The prayer I had sent out to the 19 that morning did not go unanswered. They came through for me, as I hope that I have come through for them.

Today, that Historical Marker stands as a silent sentinel to those who camped, lived, fought, and died there. On the same dune line, along the same Folly River that courses its way through the South Carolina Lowcountry. It will forever be a reminder to those who read its words, telling those of a gallant and brave group of Americans who were there before we. I hope that in some way, those 19 souls know that they did make a difference.

Take a look around you as you enjoy Folly Beach’s beauty. The sights that you behold here on Folly are proof enough that their sacrifices were not in vain. And be thankful that we, as Americans, still have brave men and women who still give their all for those of us who enjoy the fruits of their labors. Folly Beach, our oasis in the Lowcountry, is their tribute to us.

Share on Facebook

Folly Beach has always come alive in the summertime. In 1955, its popularity far exceeded the other Charleston beaches. Families brought their children here to escape the heat of the city. Teenagers, free from the duties of school, rushed to the ocean to lie around looking at each other.

Folly had an attraction the other areas did not. The dance pier, an immense wooden structure built over the ocean, provided a respite from the sun and a place to enjoy jukebox music. Unlike other public beaches in the area, Folly allowed parking on the beach. One simply had to drive to the end of Center Street and down a wooden ramp. There was room at high tide to park two rows deep on the sand.

The island also had public transportation. Buses arrived and departed hourly. Another attraction was the wooden pavilion area, with its food concessions, private changing area, public showers and bathrooms. There were lockers available where one could store their valuables and clothes. Any type of food was available, as long as it was either a hot dog or a hamburger.

All were welcome on Folly Beach. During the early days of August 1955, an out of town visitor moved into a small cottage on Erie Street, about 50 yards behind the police station. He paid his rent two months in advance. He came to Folly with a man who vouched for him throughout his stay in the Charleston area, Izzy Sabel, a short rotund man that owned several nightclubs in the area, including the Carriage House and the Octagon Lounge, both located on Market Street.

This stranger quickly settled in, keeping to himself. He bought many household items – a freezer, a new television, a new washer and dryer, all paid for with cash. He was occasionally seen with an attractive blond woman on his arm as they walked toward the beach or to the pier.

The man went by the name of Dean — Mr. Dean. He had no car, but people noticed that someone would pick him up two or three times a week and take him into town. Dean liked to gamble, so he visited those clubs that had backroom dealing. He seemed to have an unlimited supply of money at his disposal. South Carolina was a conservative, dry state at the time and encumbered by blue laws that prevented merchants from selling certain items on Sunday. Gaming of any type was illegal, but these clubs that had the back room set ups managed to operate despite these laws —you just pay the cops to look the other way.

Dean was about 5’7”, an Irish American from New York City. He was a man who walked with an air of complete confidence, but the truth was that he had been in some sort of legal trouble all his adult life. He worked for a family that was heavy into the numbers racket, as well as loan sharking. Dean became their number one man when it came to collections and enforcement.

When WWII broke out, Dean was serving a prison term for armed robbery. A judge commuted his sentence if he agreed to join the Army. He was trained as a rifleman and stormed the beaches of Omaha along with thousands of other GIs, returning from the war as a highly decorated hero.

Dean went back to his old neighborhood and resumed his life of crime, but this time he stepped up to a new position in the criminal culture, hiring himself out as a contract killer. He soon developed a reputation of being ruthless but reliable. By the time he moved to Folly Beach he had killed some ten to twelve people, and he was well thought of by those in organized crime who needed a job done.Three weeks after moving to Folly, a group of six or seven armed men from Savannah, Georgia and Charleston began making discreet inquiries about the whereabouts of this Mr. Dean. They did not know him by that name because ‘Dean’ was an alias, one of many he used. But these men had a picture of the man they were looking for, Elmer “Trigger” Burke, and they soon located the cottage he was renting.

These seven men did what they had to do and they did it with quiet efficiency — so efficient that few people were aware of their presence on Folly. But the next day’s edition of the News and Courier detailed what they had done that previous evening.

FBI Agents Seize Notorious New York Gunman At Folly Beach.

‘TRIGGER’ BURKE SHOWS NO FIGHT WHEN CORNERED

Burke (or Dean, depending on who was relating the story) allowed the agents to search his cottage. They found two .38 caliber hand guns, two rifles (one with a scope), five pairs of expensive shoes that were bought from Dumas Brothers, several suits and sportswear with hangers from Berlin Brothers clothing store and a receipt for the storage of an automobile on Meeting Street..

After Burke’s arrest the FBI agents canvassed the area. One detective wanted to charge Sabel under the harboring statute, because everywhere he went, Izzy Sabel’s name popped up. Sabel was questioned for two days, and confronted with a receipt for guns he had purchased for Burke at a local pawn shop.  Ultimately, the US Attorney declined to press charges against Sabel.

I was ten years old when Burke was arrested on Folly, and I can recall reading that article in the paper. It has intrigued me since that time. Three years ago, while working on another project, I decided to ask the FBI, under the Freedom of Information Act, for the files on Burke. I received over 3,000 heavily redacted pages and some of my questions were resolved.

Each volume I received had a cover sheet that said ‘DO NOT DESTROY – HISTORICAL DOCUMENTS.’ After I finished reading the file I realized that many of my questions weren’t answered, and will never be.

The newspaper article went into great detail about why Burke was being sought by the FBI, and the reasons were complex as well as convoluted. Burke was arrested on a warrant for unlawful flight to avoid prosecution from the Boston area, as well as a warrant for murder from New York City. There were a mix of federal and state charges and each jurisdiction wanted him extradited to their state to stand trial. After he was arrested, four people from the Boston area came to Charleston seeking his return, as well as five people from NYC who wanted the same thing. The legal scene was chaotic, to say the least. Within five days he agreed to be extradited to New York City to face murder charges.

Trigger Burke’s road to Folly Beach was a convoluted matter. It began in 1950 with the Great Brink’s robbery in Boston, Massachusetts, dubbed ‘The Crime of the Century.’ This case became a priority for the FBI’s J. Edgar Hoover. But the FBI made little progress on the case for four years, despite a nationwide search. The FBI had certain suspects from the beginning, but all had airtight alibis. Two years after the Brink’s robbery, a group of men robbed the Chase Manhattan bank in Queens, New York. They escaped with $305,000.00 in cash. The main suspect in that caper was a man named “Duke” Connelly. He was placed on the FBI’s most wanted list and another nationwide search began for him.

The original group that robbed the Brink’s company developed some internal strife by 1954, and one of their gang began making overtures for his share of the money for legal fees he was facing. The leader of that group decided to shut him up because he feared that this guy might cooperate with the FBI. His name was ‘Specs’ O’Keeffe, a career criminal who specialized in breaking and entering.

Trigger Burke was hired to whack O’Keefe. Burke went to Boston, located O’Keefe and tried to kill him, twice. The last attempt took place in open daylight, when Burke spotted O’Keefe as he was walking to his apartment. He opened fire with a machine gun but only managed to wound his target. Specs was able to identify Burke as the shooter and the FBI questioned O’Keefe again about the Brink’s caper. He refused to cooperate.

Two weeks later, Burke was arrested by an off duty Boston detective and placed in jail. He had not left the Boston area because his work was incomplete. He was charged with the illegal possession of a machine gun. The gun was found in Burke’s apartment and matched the one used in the O’Keefe shooting.

A week after being jailed, Burke escaped by simply walking out of an exercise area in the jail into a waiting car. He quickly went underground. O’Keefe, knowing that it was his gang members that pulled this off, contacted the FBI and began to cooperate.

Burke’s daring escape placed him in the cross hairs of J. Edgar Hoover. He was put on the FBI’s most wanted list and another nationwide search began. Hoover was convinced that Burke held the key to the Brink’s robbery, as well as the Queens robbery. Nothing developed for almost a year despite the best efforts by the FBI. Initially, the search for Burke centered in New York, and this search indicated why a visit by FBI agents can be a problem.

One of the people the FBI thought might have information concerning Burke was a labor boss who managed a local ILA union. He refused to cooperate and told the agents that he had no idea where Burke was located. The labor boss agreed to inform the agent if he came across any such information.

A week later, this union leader was found shot to death in his office, and the police found the agent’s card stuffed in the man’s mouth. The murder was never solved.

However, most of the time the FBI was looking for Burke he was safely staying in a ‘drop’ house in Boston. He left this drop house at the beginning of December of 1954. Sabel was a ‘wannabe’ tough guy who had contacts in New York.

It is this writer’s opinion that Sabel was Trigger Burke’s contact in Charleston. Everywhere Burke and Duke Connelly went, they were shadowed by Sabel. He gave free access to his car and helped out this group whenever need. He vouched for Burke at the Darlington Apartments, and he vouched for Connelly on the Isle of Palms

Regardless, this is the time line gleamed from the FBI files.

Burke shows up in Charleston in December of 1954 and contacts Sabel. The nightclub owner vouches for Burke at the Darlington Apartments and Burke stays there until May of 1955, when he tells Sabel he wants to move to the beach. They initially look at Folly but could not find a ‘suitable’ place. Sabel then takes Burke to the Isle of Palms, and Burke finds a place he likes, a two-story apartment a block from the beach. Burke tell the realtor that money is no problem, and pays his deposit and two months rent in cash.

Burke is soon joined by Duke Connelly, Duke’s wife, and their two small children, Georgie, aged two, and Veronica, age three. They soon hire a maid and nanny and buy furniture from a store recommended by Sabel. Neither man has transportation, so Sabel allows then to use his Cadillac. Duke buys a fishing boat, trailer, and other household items, paying cash. Soon, Duke Connelly buys a 1954 car from a person recommended by Sabel, this time using the alias as Mr. And Mrs. Prado.

Duke wanted to invest in a miniature golf course in the North Area, and Sabel steps in again as a partner and advisor. A contractor is located, plans drawn up, and the course is built towards the middle of June 1955.

Burke and the Connellys begin frequenting the Carriage House together. They become known as free spenders, tipping the band leader with $100 bills and the waitresses with $50 bills.

During the latter part of June 1955, Burke was involved in a traffic accident in Mt. Pleasant, SC, and he did not have any identification or license with him. The officer charged Burke with a minor infraction and Burke called Sabel for help. Sabel drove to the scene of the accident and gave Burke the number of an attorney who agrees to represent Burke because of his friendship with Sabel. Burke’s attorney pays a $10 fine and the matter is resolved, but Burke thinks otherwise.

Fearing that he would be identified, Burke and the Connelly family quickly move from their apartment on the Isle of Palms and disappear for a month. Sabel has some hired hands who come to the apartment and remove all the furniture and appliances, including the boat and trailer. The FBI files show that they all moved to Myrtle Beach and rented an apartment at the Cane Bay apartment complex. Duke Connelly and his wife were never to return.

At the end of July, Burke returns alone, settling on Folly Beach. He is driving the automobile that Duke Connelly bought. The FBI discovered this when they traced the car storage document and saw that it had been serviced in Myrtle Beach. The manager on duty at the storage building was able to identify Burke and Sabel from photographs furnished by the FBI.

The manager also told the agents that when Burke brought the car in, he noticed blood on the back seat carpet. The blood had not coagulated. He also told the agents that the right side vent window was broken. FBI technicians searched the car and discovered blood stains in the front seat, front floorboards, and rear seat. The samples were too poor to identify blood type, but the lab said they were human blood stains. An FBI search of the Cane Bay apartment uncovered children’s clothing, as well as shell from a .22 caliber rifle. A search of the area for bodies turned up negative, but the agents found glass shards that matched the glass from the automobile Burke stored.

From the newspaper coverage at the time, one is led to believe that the Connelly couple were murdered on the Isle of Palms, but the FBI files show this was not so. Whatever mysteriously happened to them occured in Myrtle Beach. Three days after Burke’s arrest on Folly, the children of the Connellys were found roaming the streets. Georgie, the youngest, was found on a street Wilmington, Delaware and Veronica was found in Baltimore, Maryland. They told the FBI agent that ‘mommy and daddy were hurt in the back yard.’ The children were placed in the custody of Mrs. Connelly’s sister in New York.

After Burke’s arrest, Hoover wanted Burke returned to New York to face murder charges for the killing of a friend in a barroom brawl in 1952. The representatives from the other jurisdictions agreed, and Burke was escorted to the train station by a caravan of ten cars filled with local law enforcement people, and handed over to New York authories.

Trigger Burke stood trial for murder and was convicted. During the trial, he was asked about who sent him to Charleston. Who funded him? What hardened to the Connellys? His short response was that “he didn’t want to cause any trouble for anyone.”

If Sabel was not the contact man, then one would have to believe that these fugitives from justice just happened to come to the Charleston area. If Sabel was not the contact man, you have to ask why he went out of his way to accommodate Burke and Connelly.

Even after Burke returned to the area after having been gone for a month, Sabel helped him store the car on Meeting Street, and then helped Burke find a place at Folly. Burke, while visiting Sabel’s Carriage House, received numerous long distance calls from someone in New York. If Burke wasn’t there, Sabel took a message and relayed it to Burke.

If Burke killed the Connellys, no one knows why. Perhaps it was for the money Duke Connelly had from the Queens’ robbery. Burke had a reputation as being good with kids, and many interviews in the FBI files attest to this. Either Burke took them up the coast or had a friend do so for him.

It is known that when Burke initially came back to town, he stayed at a Holiday Inn and had the Connelly children with him. This was around July 28, 1955. Sabel was seen coming to the Holiday Inn on several occasions. When Sabel was asked about this, he denied being there, but several eyewitness’s told the FBI otherwise.

After Burke’s appeals to the US Supreme Court were exhausted, Hoover sent agents to ask him about the location of the Connelly bodies. He refused to answer, but one thing is for certain: Somewhere along Highway 17 North, between Myrtle Beach and Maryland, lay the remains of the Connellys, waiting to be discovered.

Share on Facebook

On July 18, The Seashore Farmers’ Lodge Museum and Cultural Center at Sol Legare held it’s annual commemoration of the 54th Massachusetts’ siege on Fort Wagner, the infamous battle portrayed in the 1989 film, Glory. The 54th Massachusetts Companies I and B were present, along with the women of the 54th – all were dressed in historically accurate attire and shared stories from the past.

Folly Beach Mayor, Tim Goodwin was present for the ceremonies, as well as many community members and influential people, including Michael Allen of the NPS and Gullah Geechee Heritage Corridor and Queen Quet, Chieftess of the Gullah Geechee nation.

After a series of historical skits and dramatic soliloquies detailing their final moments, the troops marched down Old Sol Legare Road and boarded a boat to continue the 148th anniversary ceremony on Morris Island, all that is left of what was once mighty Fort Wagner.

The 54th Massachusetts Co I, headed by Joseph McGill, is already preparing for the sesquicentennial of the influential battle to be held in 2013. For more information or how to become involved, contact the museum by emailing Corie Hipp at sollegare@gmail.com or 843.327.2213.

Share on Facebook

Crossing over the Folly River always brings a tear to my eye and a lump to my throat. Memories of times spent here, and the lost souls that have touched my heart, make me feel as one with this sea island. The events I’ve experienced on Folly Beach, beneath the wings of pelicans in flight, will always stir my heart in a way that no other place on Earth could possibly equal.

Closing my eyes, I envision the first ‘city of Folly Beach’ back in 1863. There are hundreds of tents, bakeries, ordnance warehouses, and observation towers in my view. I can see scores of blue uniformed soldiers, with polished brass buckles and buttons, drilling with their muskets, bayonets shimmering in the midday sun. The hustling of artillery pieces drawn by horses up and down the beach, heading for newly built fortifications on the island of Folly.

Beneath that same sky, and on those same sands, I have walked where thousands of Union soldiers toiled daily. These soldiers, each with a different story, came from all across the United States and helped to create the City of Folly Beach we all know and love today.

Those soldiers built the roads that cars and golf carts use daily, out of that once-impenetrable jungle that the sea islands of the South Carolina Low Country are enveloped in. This back-breaking work was accomplished by the Union soldiers who were stationed on Folly Beach during the Civil War. All these efforts were in an attempt to capture the cradle of secession — Charleston. The Yankees were hard at work, and life was harsh and brutal on what today is our peaceful and quaint little beach town.

Looking back through the veil of time, death from the elements and disease was all too commonplace for the soldiers in blue. The muffled drums of the funeral march, soldiers carrying a comrade to their final rest, was a sound that drifted through the pines and palmettos of Folly Beach daily in the Union army camps. The deceased soldier was lain in a coffin fashioned from the timber harvested on Folly, and then cut and hewn in one of the lumber yards that the Union army had built.

In 1987, I came face to face with nineteen of those soldiers. Their remains were discovered while searching for artifacts that he and his comrades had lost during their time on Folly Beach during the Civil War. I must admit, my quest for the past never meant to find or disturb these fallen soldiers. But, the development of a new subdivision cut a road right through the nineteen soldiers’ resting place. These fallen Union soldiers were found by good luck, and most of all, by the hand of providence.

This discovery was and is the first of its kind in America, and has yet to be equaled — these nineteen Union soldiers found on Folly Beach were of African descent. The Civil War was the first war in which African Americans were allowed to become soldiers in the United States Army. The first two of those Regiments were raised and trained in Massachusetts in 1863. By the order of Massachusetts Governor Andrews, the units were formed and designated the 54th and 55th Massachusetts Volunteer Infantry Regiments.

The first African American Regiment to arrive on Folly was the 54^th Massachusetts Volunteers. They marched the length of the island from the Southern tip to the Northern on July 16, 1863. They then crossed Lighthouse Inlet to Morris Island. There, they formed up on the beach as the leading Union unit on the assault on the Confederates at Battery Wagner, on July 18, 1863. And the rest, as they say, is history.

The 55^th Massachusetts Volunteers arrived on Folly Island in August of 1863. They set up camp and immediately began performing heavy labor on Folly and Morris Island — clearing jungles, building fortifications, and hauling supplies across both of these islands. To make their labors even more deadly, they were constantly under Confederate artillery fire from Morris Island.

Even more dangerous than the Rebel iron and lead were the diseases that ran rampant through every regiment on the island. Typhoid, dysentery, heat stroke, dehydration, exhaustion, and other ailments took their toll on the men of the 55th Massachusetts. Their camp hospital was bursting at the seams with sick and exhausted soldiers. Deaths became commonplace in this field hospital. These soldiers withered away, with life slipping away from their bodies, without the tender words of family, or the comforts of home, to ease their passing into death.

One by one, they succumbed to the hand of death. Mourned by their comrades in arms, they were tenderly buried in the Regimental cemetery. There they began their trip to eternity, and over time, were forgotten and lost for 124 years.

In 1987, the roar of diesel engines and the blades of bulldozers would bring these fallen nineteen African America soldiers from the 55th Massachusetts into the 20th century. Again they were tenderly cared for and excavated by the hands of those from a different century. Carefully and painstakingly, these soldiers were removed from certain destruction and reburied with full military honors in the Beaufort National Cemetery, on Memorial Day, 1989. There they would join other Union and Confederate soldiers who gave their lives for their Country.

We too have a chance to honor those soldiers who lived, fought, and died here on Folly Beach back in 1863 and 1864.

On July 15, 2011, at 6:00 p.m. at the Folly River Park, a South Carolina Historical Marker will be unveiled in a ceremony for those that gave the last full measures of a soldier. With the sounds of bagpipes and drums, the sounds of musket fire will fill the sea breezes of Folly Beach once again.

This ceremony will give us all a chance to reflect on those who fell here. A wartime-era Folly Beach was once home to thousands of those Union soldiers from all across our great country. Today, the sounds of cannons and muskets have been replaced by the laughter, music, and day to day living on this beautiful sea island.

I often ask myself if these men of color gave their lives in vain. But as I sat on the beach last week and watched the children of 2011 play and romp in the sands and surf of Folly, I could see that they had, in fact, made a difference. Children of all races and colors now play in harmony with the same surf and sand that was left to them by those nineteen soldiers who perished for those of us who enjoy Folly’s favors.

The laughter of those children and the generations that will follow them are these soldiers’ reward for their sacrifices made so long ago. And a South Carolina Historical Marker will tell their story to thousands who never knew of their deeds here — a piece of aluminum to honor those men of flesh and bone who never saw family or home again. It will be our honor to remember those who so willingly gave away their lives for Folly Beach, and we, the citizens of the United States.

Take a look back through that window of time, and see what Folly was like 148 years ago.

Share on Facebook

In the early months of 1861, Charleston became “the place to be” for the young men of the Palmetto State. The entire state was afire with the buzz of Secession and the talk of war. Charleston’s streets were teaming with the life-blood of the first state to separate from the United States.

Young men came to Charleston to enlist in the militia and military units being formed to defend their home state. Recruiting for “the cause” was at a fever pitch. Dozens of army, cavalry, and infantry units were formed virtually overnight. The city became engorged with soldiers and military bands, and her citizens all proclaimed the same battle cry: war.

William Reynolds was one of those who thirsted for the taste of battle. As a farm boy from the upstate of South Carolina, this journey to the coast was to be a great adventure. How alluring that siren song of the impending war must have been to him. The chance to travel to the port city and become part of the ever-growing revelry in her city streets. To gaze upon Fort Sumter in the heart of Charleston harbor; the fort where the “old flag” of the United States still waved in defiance of the new Confederacy.

To Reynolds, defending his home and flag were the reasons for him to make the journey to the Holy City. And besides, he didn’t want to miss his chance to become a part of his generation’s revolution.

In May 1993, I was driving in downtown Charleston and noticed a real estate lot being bulldozed. I stopped and talked to the property owner, asking if I could search the lot for the old privy. He gladly gave me permission, and told me that the lot was to be leveled another few feet. This would certainly destroy the privy and its contents.

The excavation of an old privy can be an amazing peek into our past. The trash from the past can give us a look through a window into a world that only exists in books. To excavate and unearth artifacts can give us a glimpse otherwise lost to time.

The lot was near where the old Charleston Arsenal was located during the Civil War, so the prospects of finding relics from Confederate Charleston were pretty good. We easily found the privy’s shaft and slowly began our excavation. The first three to four feet were full of broken bricks and fireplace ash. At about five feet down, we began to see signs of 1860s Charleston.

Broken porcelain and bottles began to appear. At this depth, we also struck something else: water. The water table in the peninsula is very high, and digging at this depth became extremely difficult. Using five gallon plastic buckets, we began to dip out buckets of mud, water, and broken bottles to the surface. The buckets were dumped a few feet away from the excavated hole. Groping our way through this mess did prove to be rewarding, however.

Bottles began to appear, all dating from the 1850s to 1860s. The day ended, and we decided to finish up the excavation the following morning.

We all arrived early the next morning at the dig site. The pile of mud from the previous day glistened with broken remains of bottle fragments and porcelain shards protruding from the mound of muck from the privy shaft. I walked over to it and spied a perfect, unbroken Civil War-period umbrella ink well sticking out of the side of the pile. I also saw an oval-shaped object next to where the ink well was laying. I reached down and in turn, shook hands with William Reynolds. And this was no ordinary day. It was May 9, 1993, Confederate Memorial Day.

That oval-shaped object was a South Carolina Belt Buckle. Made in the 1850s, it bore the large letters ‘SC’ on its face. On the reverse of the buckle, hand-carved into its soft lead filling, were the words, “William Reynolds Palmetto Guards.”

The Palmetto Guards was one of the finest units of South Carolina soldiers ever raised, and our above-mentioned recruit from the upstate was one of its members.

Private William Reynolds was stationed on Morris Island at Stevens Iron Battery during the first battle of the Civil War. The battery that Private Reynolds manned received the first shot fired from Fort Sumter by Union Officer Abner Doubleday on the morning of April 12, 1861. This battery was also manned by the infamous Edwin Ruffin of Virginia, who was made an honorary member of the Palmetto Guards. Private Reynolds would become a part of American history that day — a part of a story that would be taught to every school child in the country when learning of the beginnings of the Civil War.

I have no doubt that when Reynolds came to Charleston to enlist in early 1861, he dreamed of becoming part of history. And so he was right; he did become a part of a very historic day indeed.

My research shows that Private William Reynolds of the Palmetto Guards would eventually become part of the 2^nd South Carolina Volunteers. He, along with his unit, would fight the war in Virginia under the command of General Kershaw of South Carolina. Private Reynolds lost his life to unknown causes in Richmond, Virginia, on December 3, 1862.

Fortunately, he carved his name into the back of that South Carolina buckle that I was so lucky to have spied in a pile of mud. How that perfect, unbroken buckle ended up in the bottom of an outhouse is lost to history. But the soldier who wore that buckle is not lost to history, or to us, dear reader. His sacrifice of his life on the altar of his country’s freedom will forever be remembered by myself, and hopefully by you — remembered as one of over 600,000 lives lost in the worst conflict in American history.

Share on Facebook

We left off in the first installment of “The Ball Begins” with Union officer Abner Doubleday’s first cannon shot fired from the Union forces in possession of Fort Sumter.

Before this shot was fired, the people and soldiers of Charleston were a bit unsettled by the lack of any return fire from the Union troops at Fort Sumter. Some women witnessing the bombardment from the Battery at the city of Charleston’s tip were in tears. Southern fire-eater Edwin Ruffin, after firing a shot from each one of the Confederate Batteries on Morris Island, was also becoming a bit anxious.

“I was fearful that Major Anderson did not intend to fire at all,” he stated. “It would have cheapened our conquest of the fort, if effected, if no hostile defense had been made — and still more increased the disgrace of failure.”

The other soldiers firing upon Fort Sumter were also feeling a bit un-chivalrous by the silence of Fort Sumter’s cannons. But finally, Captain Doubleday’s cannonball skipped off of its target and bounded down the beach (this cannonball was chased down by Southern soldiers, in search of that iron ball that was the first shot from Fort Sumter) of Morris Island. The Confederates felt a sigh of relief as the two combatants began an Artillery duel that commenced the Civil War.

Even through the fierce cannonade, there was a bit of humor on both sides of the bombardment. Confederates in Fort Moultrie commented on every cannonball that struck the fort. When a bale of cotton was struck by a cannonball, a soldiers exclaimed, “Cotton is going down!” When a ball hit the fort’s bakery, scattering loaves of bread, a gunner yelled, “Bread is going up!”

Inside of Fort Sumter, a Confederate shot came near to Captain Doubleday’s ear, striking the masonry wall behind him. “The ball seemed to bury itself in the masonry a foot from my head, in a very unpleasant proximity to my right ear,” said Doubleday. “This is the one that probably came with Mr. Ruffin’s compliments.”
Later on, during the engagement, Doubleday bantered with another Union officer. “What in the world is the matter here, and what is all this uproar about?” questioned the officer. Captain Doubleday replied, “There is a trifling difference of opinion between us and our neighbor opposite, and we are trying to settle it!”

For hours, the iron flew in both directions between the two combatants. And then things got hot! The Confederates at Fort Moultrie had a ‘hot shot’ furnace. This furnace was used to heat up solid shot cannonballs to a red hot, fire-causing temperature. When this was fired into the enemies’ position, any wood that it came into contact with would catch fire, and rapidly at that. When Fort Sumter was first designed, then built, it had a new feature in fortification development. The barracks for the soldiers and officers was fire-proof. This was accomplished by building the structure itself out of brick, but there was one flaw in the construction of these “fire-proof barracks”: the interior was made of wood.

At 8 a.m. on the morning of April 13, the soldiers were still trying to make an attempt to defend their positions. But a “hot-shot,” as those red hued cannonballs were called, struck the fire-proof barracks inside of Sumter and set them ablaze. As soon as this blaze was extinguished, another would embed itself in the barracks and the blaze would again erupt. When the Confederates saw the smoke rising from the fort, they would increase their fire on the blazing fort.

A Southern correspondent at Morris Island wrote, “We saw red flames piercing the top of Sumter’s barracks. The sight inspired new confidence in our men, and the bombardment immediately became more fierce than at any previous time; the bombs flew so thick and fast that we could see them exploding in groups over the flaming fortress … the fire blazed furiously, sweeping away the whole line of barracks on the south side of Sumter.”

By 10 a.m. the fort was an inferno, with over one-fifth of the fort engulfed in flames. The fire was also out of control, and making its way to the make-shift powder magazine on the ground floor of another barrack. Inside of that magazine were three hundred barrels of black powder, with much of it lying loose on the floors of the barracks from the action of the day before. Soldiers were ordered to begin rolling the barrels of powder out of the make-shift magazine. All of this while under heavy fire from the opposing Confederates. Then, Fort Sumter began to fire on itself. Cannonballs that earlier had been placed in different points throughout the lower casement for easy access began to explode because of the sparks from the fires that were burning all around the fort. The Confederates, again seeing the distress at the fort, doubled their fire.

Major Anderson gave the order to dump the barrels of powder, save five, over the walls into the sea. But as the barrels were heaved over the fort’s side, another problem arose. It was low tide, and the broken barrels of black powder were high and dry, piled up against the outside walls of the fort. The Confederates, upon seeing this, began to fire at the powder outside of the fort. They finally found the range for a direct hit on the loose powder and a huge explosion, enough to shake the wharfs in the city of Charleston, showered the beleaguered fort with chunks of brick and burning timbers. Sumter’s gunners, even under these horrendous circumstances, kept up their cannon fire.

At 12:48 p.m., a shot from Fort Moultrie shattered the flagstaff of Sumter. The Confederates, thinking that the Federals were admitting defeat, roared and shouted that the fort had surrendered. But then Lt. Hall raced across Sumter’s parade ground and rescued the fallen stars and stripes. He improvised a flagpole and replaced the flag atop the fort.

But the Confederates, seeing the flag down, sent Colonel Wigfall to see about the terms of a possible surrender. Meeting with Major Anderson, Wigfall said, “You have defended your flag nobly, sir. It is madness to persevere in useless resistance. You have done all that is possible for men to do. General Beauregard wishes to stop this fight and asks of what terms you will evacuate the fort.”

Major Anderson very well knew his position, and it was not a good one, with fires burning out of control inside of the fort and threatening to ignite 275 barrels of black powder.  His men were exhausted and hungry, and had been under constant fire for over 33 hours. Two shells a minute were being fired at his fort, and he was outnumbered 100 to one. In his heart, and in his mind, he knew that Colonel Wigfall was right.

“I have already stated my terms for evacuation to General Beauregard’s early offer,” said Anderson. “Instead of leaving the fort on noon of the fifteenth, I will go now.”

Wigfall replied, “Then I understand you will evacuate the fort upon the same terms proposed to you by General Beauregard?” Anderson replied, “Yes, Sir, and upon those terms alone.”

Using a hospital sheet, he replaced the United States flag with the surrender flag atop the flagpole. With this, the celebration for the Confederates began. The peeling of Charleston’s church bells signaled to the Charlestonians that the battle was over, without the loss of a single life on either side.

On Surrender Sunday, as it was called, a paper wrote, “Bells chiming all day, guns firing, ladies waving handkerchiefs, people cheering, and citizens making themselves generally demonstrative. It is regarded as the greatest day in the history of South Carolina.”

Major Anderson, before leaving Fort Sumter, ordered a 100-gun salute to the flag he and his men so bravely defended. At 2 p.m., the first salute shot was fired. The entire contingent of Federal soldiers that manned Sumter stood at attention with tears in their eyes as the battered Stars and Stripes was lowered. Shot after shot rang out over the now silent Charleston harbor. But on the firing of the seventeenth shot, there was not one explosion coming from the cannon, but two.

The gun had prematurely fired when Private Daniel Hough placed a powder cartridge into the cannon that had not been properly wet sponged after the previous firing of the gun. The powder bag was ignited by pieces of a burning cartridge still aflame in the muzzle of the cannon. Then, a swift breeze from this explosion rained sparks onto full cartridges lying next to the cannon and detonated them, causing a second explosion.

Private Hough was killed instantly, having his right arm completely blown off. Five other soldiers were also injured, with one of those wounded, Sergeant Edward Galway, later dying in a Charleston hospital. Major Anderson became extremely upset at this needless loss of life, and cut short his salute to fifty shots instead of one hundred.

At 4 p.m., Major Anderson, with the United States flag he so steadfastly defended folded under his arm, led his men out of Fort Sumter as his band played “Yankee Doodle.

The ball was now most certainly opened. And it did not slow or close for four years of bloodshed that ran rampant in a country embraced in the deadliest war ever fought by Americans on American soil.

Lest we forget.

150 years ago in the Lowcountry
May 3 through May 14, 1861
Compiled by Paul Hedden, Historian, J&G Tours

Rumors of an impending blockade and chaotic troop movements keep Charleston and the Lowcountry preparing for “a war of everlasting glory.” A sense of strength, confidence, and preparedness is expressed in stating totals of arms and ammunition now in possession of the Southern Movement. The efficacy of the threatened blockade is discounted with the seizure of 290,000 weapons and the previous purchase of 417,000 arms since South Carolina seceded from the Union, plus 200,000 revolvers.  This does not include the arms owned by the states of Tennessee, Arkansas, Texas, Kentucky, Maryland and Virginia, which will increase the number by at least one million. Another two million arms are thought to be in private hands.

May 4, 1861 – An editorial in the Mercury states that the war is not going to be much of a drain upon the country, because the money spent by the government on the war will be put in circulation among our own people.

May 6, 1861 – Rumor circulates that a blockade squadron is off the Charleston Bar.

May 13, 1861 – Active preparations, under the command of PGT Beauregard, continue to increase defenses along the seaboard. Orders have been issued from headquarters for the immediate organization of the 9^th Regiment, SCV, made up of citizens from the parishes and districts of the S.C. coast. An inspection tour, principally to Port Royal and Edisto, will receive proper attention.

May 14, 1861 – The USS Niagara is visited by Robert Bunch, Esq. Her British Majesty’s Consul, where he is received with every courtesy, and where every matter in relation to the blockade is satisfactorily explained.  All neutral vessels now in the port will be allowed a reasonable time to depart, but nothing further will be allowed to come in.  A fleet of eight or ten sails is expected off Charleston in a few days when the blockade will be rigidly enforced all along the coast.

Share on Facebook

For most Charlestonians, Fort Sumter is considered hallowed ground. And that is as it should be.

The first recollections of my life are of the Civil War Centennial in 1961. At age five, my family climbed into the car and headed toward a reenactment of the firing on Fort Sumter at the Battery in downtown Charleston. My father had purchased Confederate hats and flags for all of us to cheer on the ghosts of April 12, 1861. We parked along the sea wall with dozens of other cars, and watched as fireworks, substituting for cannonballs, whizzed through the early evening sky. That day stirred my small soul with a passion for the Civil War that burns even to this day.

General P.G.T. Beauregard commanded the Confederate forces in Charleston. He sent a message to his former Artillery instructor at West Point and commander of the Union troops holding Fort Sumter, Major Robert Anderson. The message read, “I am ordered by the Government of the Confederate States to demand evacuation of Fort Sumter. All proper facilities will be afforded for the removal of yourself and command, to any post in the United States which you may select. The Flag which you have upheld so long and with so much fortitude, under the most trying of circumstances, may be saluted by you on taking it down.”

Major Anderson conferred with his officers, and they all rejected this offer. Anderson’s reply was, “Gentlemen, if you do not batter us to pieces, we shall be starved out in a few days.” As a lifelong soldier and officer in the United States Military, he vowed to hold the fort at all costs.

The Confederate Government, on the other hand, did not want to take the fort by force. Gaining the fort by its surrender, without bloodshed and the destruction of a prized fortification, was their goal. The Secretary of War for the Confederacy telegraphed General Beauregard, stating, “Do not desire needlessly to bombard Fort Sumter. If Major Anderson will state the time at which, as indicated by him, he will evacuate, and agree in the meantime that he will not use his guns against us, unless ours should be employed against Fort Sumter, you are authorized thus to avoid the effusion of blood. If this, or its equivalent be refused, reduce the fort as your judgment decides to be most practicable.”

Beauregard’s next message to Anderson was short and sweet: “If you will state the time of which you will evacuate Fort Sumter, we will abstain from firing upon you.” Anderson’s reply was, “We will evacuate Fort Sumter on the 15^th instant, should I not receive prior, to that time, controlling instructions from my Government or additional supplies.”

To the Confederate, this reply was unacceptable and had too many conditions attached to it. Confederate Colonel Chestnut, who delivered the last message to Anderson, wrote a blunt rejection of Anderson’s terms, which he signed and handed to Major Anderson.

Col. Chestnut’s note read: “ Fort Sumter, S.C., April 12, 1861, 3:20 A.M.- Sir: By authority of Brigadier General Beauregard, Commanding the Provisional Forces of the Confederate States, we have the honor to notify you that he will open fire of his batteries on Fort Sumter in one hour from this time.” This message deeply moved Major Anderson. He escorted Colonel Chestnut back to his boat, pressed the Colonel’s hand and told him, “If we never meet in this world again, God grant that we may meet in the next.”

Col. Chestnut’s boat was then rowed to nearby Fort Johnson. In the distance, he could hear the pealing of the bells from St. Michael’s in Charleston, as was ordered by General Beauregard. The Colonel ordered the Captain in command of Fort Johnson to fire the signal shell at Fort Sumter that would open the bombardment of Fort Sumter and the Civil War.

At 4:30 a.m., a ten inch mortar at Fort Johnson was fired. Its burning fuse traced its way across the black sky as it arched and fell into Fort Sumter. To a cannoneer on Morris Island, the shell looked “like a firefly.” With this first shot, the deadliest war in American History began in Charleston Harbor.

Fort Sumter was soon encircled by a ring of cannon fire. Fortifications surrounded her, hurling shot and shell at her from every direction. The Confederate batteries which were firing on Fort Sumter included Steven’s Ironclad Battery, Cummings Point Battery, Channel Battery, Ironclad Floating Battery, Dahlgren Battery, Enfilade Battery, Sumter Battery, Mount Pleasant Battery, Oblique Battery, Upper Battery, Lower Battery, Mortar Battery No.1 and No.2, Trapier Battery and Fort Moultrie.

Hundreds of artillery shells were being fired on Fort Sumter, and the fort’s masonry walls showered bricks and shell fragments throughout the fort’s interior. A correspondent from the Charleston Courier wrote, “the grim fortress of Fort Sumter is beleaguered”, and after the first shot, “The outline of this great volcanic crater was illuminated with a line of twinkling lights; the clustering of shells illuminated the sky above it; the balls clattered thick as hail upon Sumter’s sides … and so, at the break of day, amidst the bursting of bombs, and the roaring of ordnance, and before thousands of spectators, whose home and liberties and lives were at stake, was enacted the first great scene in the opening drama of this momentous history.”

The sun arose at 5:37 that fateful morning. Inside Fort Sumter, the soldiers made for cover against the storm of artillery raining in upon them. The fort was silent during the beginning of the bombardment. Major Anderson had but 21 working cannons, and could not site or aim them in the darkness of the early morning hours. He also had no fuses for the explosive shells. His ammunition consisted of solid shot cannonballs. He was outnumbered 100 to 1, so his actions were to be conservative. He and his soldiers breakfasted on “fatty pork, water, and some farina for the officers.” He ordered his men to take cover in the fort’s lower casements, and to be careful of their lives. Anderson said, “Make no imprudent exposure of your person to the enemies’ fire.”

As the dawn’s light filtered into the fort, his gunner prepared to defend their flag. Sumter’s guns facing Cummings Point on Morris Island were brought to bear on those Confederate batteries positioned there. The honor for the first shot to be fired from Fort Sumter was given to Captain Abner Doubleday. He aimed a 32-pounder at Stevens Ironclad Battery and fired. The honor for manning this battery was given to the “Palmetto Guards.” Capt. Doubleday’s shot hit the slanting iron battery wall, and bounced like “peas or marbles off a turtle’s back.”

Little did those engaged in battle that day on April 12, 1861, know, as they fought for country and honor, what the future held for them and their country: that this battle was to lead to four years of arduous warfare throughout the North and the South. The cannon fire that began at 4:30 a.m. was to be a battle that was fought by both sides, each believing theirs’ was a just cause, and that God was on their side.

The Philadelphia Inquirer headline on April 12, 1861, read, “Charleston April 12 – The Ball has been opened at last and the war is inaugurated!”

In the next installment of “The Ball Begins – April 12, 1861”, we shall continue with the ongoing bombardment, bravery, and insights of the first battle of the Civil War.

Timeline: Compiled by Paul Hedden/Historian, J&G Tours

April 3 – Gen. Beauregard assumes command of the Confederate Army in Charleston.

April 11 – Evacuation of Fort Sumter demanded by Confederate forces. The Union soliders, under the command of Major Anderson, decline.

April 12 - Notice is sent to Fort Sumter that fire would open. A signal shell is thrown from Fort Johnson. The Union forces reply with fire at 7 a.m. U.S. steamship Baltic arrives from New York off the coast, but is unable to support Fort Sumter due to the heavy fire from Confederate forces.

April 13  – Major Anderson surrenders Fort Sumter.

April 15 – President Lincoln calls for 75,000 volunteers to suppress the rebellion.

April 19 – The blockade of Southern ports is announced from S.C. to Texas.

April 20 – Robert E. Lee resigns his commission in the U.S. Army.

Share on Facebook

Civil War re-enactors at Ft. Moultrie on April 12, 2011. Photo by Gamil Awad

By Stratton Lawrence

War starts early around these parts. Over 1000 reenactors converged on Charleston this week to stage the climactic build up to the first shots on Fort Sumter, beckoning the United State’s three bloodiest and most horrific years of fighting. Camps at Fort Johnson, Patriots Point, Fort Moultrie, and Morris Island all rose during the night to commence their attack on Union held Fort Sumter.

I met Tideline Tours owner Anton Dumars at the Sunset Cay Marina at 6 a.m., along with a half dozen tourists and interested locals. We shoved off and high-tailed through the ‘government cut’ out to the harbor. Arriving just minutes before the signal flare rose from Fort Johnson that alerted the other posts to commence firing, we pulled onto the beach at Morris Island, only to have two Confederates with long muskets affixed with bayonets command us to move away. They’d be firing our direction in a moment. Blanks, we presumed, but we heeded their directions.

The sun rose through a haze of linear clouds over the harbor’s mouth, as the explosions of cannons across the water began to fire all around us. Although the sheer distance across the harbor made the faux battle slightly undramatic for us onlookers, one can only imagine the panic among the Union soldiers when the walls on their captive island began to receive fire from all directions.

With a wall of dark clouds on the horizon, we opted to avoid panic and scoot back to Folly ourselves, satisfied with a glimpse of a terrifying history, the depths of which our city will never fully comprehend.

Another great product from Cincopa Send Files. Also read about Cincopa best wordpress plugins for your website.

Share on Facebook

In a 2005 interview with 60 Minutes, African-American and Academy Award-winning actor, Morgan Freeman, referred to Black History month as “ridiculous”. Obviously not a fan, he went on to state, “I don’t want a Black History month. Black history is American history.”

And he’s right. Our country’s history is made up by the contributions and accomplishments from a great number of people of varied backgrounds, cultures and ethnicities. The problem, some would argue, is that, (judging by the curriculum in our nation’s schools and the interpretation of our country’s past and present, one can go through the entire American experience without ever knowing about these contributions and accomplishments from such diverse and historical groups. A great deal of triumphs, hardships, and involvement of the African-American in the history of our great country is often overlooked or not even mentioned in the annals of U.S. history.

For instance, did you know that the first group of African-Americans brought into this country didn’t arrive as slaves, but rather as indentured servants? In 1619, the Dutch arrived in Jamestown, Virginia, with twenty Africans onboard. As soon as they completed their service as indentured servants, these Africans were freed from their duties and given land. The following year, the pilgrims arrived on the Mayflower. By the end of the 17th century, all Africans – whether they were brought into or born in Virginia – were declared to be slaves.

Not too many textbooks I can remember even mention the twenty African servants being here before the pilgrims. As I recall, when it came to our country’s first settlers it was all about Plymouth Rock, the Mayflower, pilgrims and those silly little hats they used to wear. Never mind about the twenty African servants who were here one year before (or those pesky Native American’s who were actually here even before the Dutch and Africans and have a habit of popping up all over the American history landscape for some crazy reason).

Then came the Revolutionary War for America’s independence from the British, a war which our history books will tell you Americans could afford largely because of the profits gained from the exportation of agricultural products such as rice and tobacco. What these books fail to mention, more often than not, is that it was rice and tobacco that was grown, harvested, and picked mostly by slaves. So, who deserves credit? The contribution of Africans to our independence receives hardly any credit in our traditional history books.

That’s right, the African-American. But speaking of contributing to America’s victory for independence, another tiny nugget of American nostalgia that hardly gets noticed is how 5,000 African-Americans who were promised their freedom if they were to take up arms against the British (which of course they did), were eventually lied to. Many of them were sent packing back to their masters almost as soon as the last battle was won (a promise that would again be broken a few years later in American history, except this time by then General Andrew Jackson).

When George Washington – whose famous crossing across the Delaware River included the service of two African-Americans – found out that African-Americans who literally fought alongside him were being re-enslaved at the end of the war, he created a commission to bring a stop to it. An admirable act on the part of our first president, if not an unusual one considering the fact that he remained a slave owner even after the war.

Wow. Africans here before the English? Slaves fighting for their freedom only to be lied to? George Washington enlisting and being impressed by slaves-turned-soldiers? Who knew? Apparently not too many people, because this isn’t something that is normally taught in our American schools. And that’s just covering the beginning of our country’s history!

Still, there are a great number of people who insist that there is no need for this racially-based month. Never mind what may or may not be left out of our schools’ textbooks when it comes to the accomplishments of African-American people. This concept of setting aside a month’s time to recognize one race of people is wrong! It’s reverse discrimination, they say. “Can you imagine what would happen if there was suddenly a demand for a National Caucasian-American Month?!” they ask.

First of all, there is absolutely no need to imagine a National Caucasian-American Month because every day in America is National Caucasian-American day, week, month and year. Allow me to expand on this very sensitive point. There is a need for a Black History month for the very same reason there is a need for the BET network. Pick up your remote control, sit back, and do a little channel surfing. What do you see? With the exception of a really bad Tyler Perry sitcom or a Chappelle Show rerun, there are mostly Caucasian-American faces across the board.

The same reason there are publications such as Jet and Ebony magazines is the same reason we still need a Black History month. Stand in front of a magazine rack one day at your grocery store or bookstore. What do you see? That’s right. Cover after cover with Caucasian-American faces on them. In other words, mostly everything in America is featured in white. Including our history.

One last case in point: as part of my research for this op-ed, I visited the largest bookstore chain in America to purchase some literature on U.S. history to see if it was, in fact, sewn with African-American history as Morgan Freeman claimed it was. I located the history section of the store and found three conjoining bookshelves, five rows across with a sign over each bookshelf that read: “United States History.” Scanning all fifteen shelves, I calculated at least 500 books in front of me; publications that ranged in subjects from the Revolutionary War to the war in Afghanistan; books about George Washington, John Adams, JFK, Ronald Reagan and other U.S. presidents. There was even a book called A Patriot’s History of the United States, which had Rush Limbaugh’s name all over it!

I set the Limbaugh book back down and that’s when it hit me: Of the approximately 500 or so books on the history of the United States, only three even mentioned the African-American experience on the cover. “This can’t be right …” I thought. “Surely I must be missing something here.” So, I walked over to the next aisle where I hoped I would find another 500 or so books on U.S. history, except this time some of them would actually feature an aspect of the African-American’s history comfortably enveloped within the pages of the history of this great country.

And I did! Sort of. You see, there were books on African-American history, except instead of being under a placard that read “United States History”; they were categorized in a section titled “African-American Studies”. The section consisted of one bookshelf with approximately 130 books displayed across four shelves with a fifth shelf of the “African-American Studies” section being filled with about 20 books on Native American Studies.

Again, I found myself pondering. “Well, let’s see … if African-American History and American History are one in the same, as Morgan Freeman (an Oscar winner, mind you) said they were, shouldn’t this ‘African-American Studies’ sign be removed and all of these 130 books be integrated on the other side with the other United States history books? And how about that one bottom row of Native American books? My word, if there’s one row of books that should be sitting amongst the other ‘United States History’ books, it’s this one! And U.S. historically speaking, they shouldn’t be on the bottom row, either.”

Good questions, all I surmised, so I set out to seek the answers. First, I asked the very first store employee I came across. She commended me on the good questions, but couldn’t answer one of them, so she directed me to the one person who could; the store manager. His name was Jeff.

“Can I help you?” Jeff inquired. “Just a couple of questions,” I responded. “Wouldn’t you agree that the history of the African-American is in fact intertwined with that of the history of the U.S.?” Jeff, who stood about three inches taller than me, looked down and nodded “Yeah. Sure.” I continued, “So, if that’s the case, why are all the books on African-American history separate from the U.S. history books? And why, come to think of it, are the books on Reagan, JFK, both Bushes and other Presidents conveniently located under the U.S. History section, while the books on our present commander-in-chief, President Obama, our country’s first African-American president which, and I’m just spitballin’ here, is U.S. History in its own right, are found way over on the other side, in another aisle, segregated from books on all the other U.S. presidents?”

Jeff then commenced to explain that he has no control over how or where the books are stacked. They get specific instructions from the corporate office on how displays should look and what books to feature, he explained. “So, I should contact your corporate office then?” I asked. Exasperated and looking quite anxious to continue with his task of stocking books, Jeff shrugged. “Yeah. Yeah, give them a call or shoot ‘em an email. They can tell you. I just do what I’m told.”

And who amongst us doesn’t, I thought. I thanked Jeff and returned to the “United States History” section. I stood there, arms crossed, brow on the bridge of my nose, hamster running on the wheel in my head like he stole something. And that’s when I came to the conclusion that I didn’t have to call or email anyone (even though I did email the corporate office of this very large scale bookstore and have yet to receive an answer to either one of my questions.). I found the answer I was searching for right here in this corporate-run, well-vacuumed bookstore.

We do, indeed, need to continue to have a Black History month. Why? We need it until our nation can truly acknowledge and show a true, in-depth interest in the many, over-whelming sacrifices African-Americans have given for our country by accepting their stories, their heroes, and their historical achievements as stories, heroes, and historical achievements for us ALL; until we can walk into our libraries and bookstores and come to find no more hyphenated American sections, but only a “UNITED STATES HISTORY” section with books and publications that cover every aspect and story of every and all races, cultures, and histories that have contributed to the making of the United States of America; until we cross-educate each other and develop a relentless quest to saturate ourselves about the culture and background of the many ethnicities and nationalities that make up the very fabric of our country, so that we can better understand each other.

Until then, we will always find ourselves far short of Mr. Morgan’s assessment that black history is, in fact, American history. So, yes, as of right now there is still very much a need for Black History month. Because until the name Crispus Attucks can be commonly recognized as the first man to die for our country, it shouldn’t matter that he was black. Until Crispus Attucks is as commonly recognized as George Washington, it shouldn’t matter that his mother was Native American. But as of right now, it does matter. Black History month will and should matter until we as a united people have finally accepted the histories of all our people that make up the fabric of our great country. And until we do, Mr. Morgan Freeman will be right about one thing; it is ridiculous – ridiculous that we are not there yet.

Have an opinion on Flores’ op-ed? Reach him through comments@luckydognews.com.

Share on Facebook

If it’s not on your bucket list, then you should add Washington, D.C. to your top places to visit before going to the Great Beyond. It’s not only our Nation’s Capital; it’s a fantastic metropolitan city.

You already know about some of its more famous “residents” such as the Washington Monument, the Lincoln Memorial and the Smithsonian Museums, but did you know that you can visit all of those sites for absolutely nothing? That’s right, many of the most famous museums in DC are free and open to the public.

As with most places that have lots to see, it’s hard to cram it all into one travel article. So, in addition to the major tourist stops such as memorials and museums, here are some not-to-miss basics for first-timers to D.C.:

METRO – That’s right, check out the subway system. It’s clean, it’s affordable and, by and large, it’s efficient. It beats sitting in the country’s second worse rush hour in a rental car or cab, and it takes you just about anywhere you need to be, including Old Town Alexandria in Virginia or upscale Bethesda, Maryland. Be mindful of locals and try to ride during off-peak hours. And remember the rules of the Metro escalators: stand to the right, walk to the left.

Metro also makes it easy to walk in this pedestrian-friendly town to just about everything and anything you’d want to see, such as the Cherry Blossoms, the World War II Memorial, the Vietnam Veteran Memorial and the wonderful neighborhoods surrounding downtown like Adams Morgan, Cleveland Park and U Street Corridor.

Dupont Circle – Once known as the gay Mecca of DC, it’s become much more than that with funky shops, tasty dining and some of the best people-watching in DC. It’s a diverse mix of people, places and things.

The U.S. Capitol – You may want to contact your congressman in advance of going, but even if you don’t, make an unscheduled stop to your representative’s office to set up a tour of the Capitol Building. Most of the time, they’re happy to do it. You’ll get to ride the underground tram and then tour the awesome architecture and history that makes our country the heart of Democracy.

Memorials and Monuments – It’s said that the Washington Monument is the only true monument in all of D.C. and that everything else is a memorial. Whether that’s true or not, plan to visit the Lincoln Memorial. Standing on those famous steps leading to the giant sculpture can’t help but fill you with pride. While there, glance across the National Mall and glimpse unforgettable views of the Washington Monument and the Capitol Dome. Within short distances of the Lincoln, find the Vietnam Memorial and the Korean War Memorial (best seen at night).

Newseum – This for-profit museum, although not free, is worth the cost of admission. It’s all about our first amendment rights of free speech and freedom of the press. Not only does it have touristy things like pretend anchor desks, but it has newspapers from around the globe, huge blocks from the Berlin wall and an emotionally-engaging part of the roof antennae from the World Trade Towers, stuck down on 9/11.

Another thing that makes DC a terrific place to visit is its proximity to other great destinations. Philadelphia, Baltimore, and New York City are easily accessible by train, bus or car, with New York being the furthest at less than four hours away.

Whether it’s the Cherry Blossom Festival, Christmastime or Congress, D.C. is a good place to be a tourist year around. Remember to take a good pair of walking shoes and your American spirit.

For more information, visit www.washington.org

Share on Facebook