During the last four years, as I “walked and talked” the Civil War sesquicentennial, there were many observations which I rolled about at the pace of my footsteps. A post-sesquicentennial objective of mine is to fill some of those out and share here as blog posts. One of those is already up. Today I’ll continue that thread with another observation “from the field,” if you will – we are experiencing the last great opportunity for Civil War battlefield preservation.
Yes, we are witnessing the last great chance for preservation of Civil War battlefields… any additional battlefields. I say that within the context of a comment from NPS historian John Hennessy:
For the moment, let’s focus on the 2/2 part of that tweet conversation (we’ll circle back to the first part later). Americans have preserved MORE acres Civil War battlefield than any other nation has preserved for any other war in all of history. An impressive statistic. Civil War Trust lists 40,000 acres of battlefield among their accomplishments – preserved in whole or in part by that organization. Add to that federal (small “f” as in national, not the opposite of Confederate!), state, and local parks on battlefields. And also mention lands preserved by other means, to include the initiative of the land owners. More land than for any other war in human history. Let that simmer at the fore.
Why is that?
Let me offer my answer to that in “Craig Swain” fashion… as in starting with the “nuts and bolts.” The first part to consider is how – legally and administratively – all that land went onto the “preserved” side of the sheet. Preservation didn’t happen all at once. It took time and came in waves. The first great wave of preservation was by the generation which witnessed the Civil War, and driven by those veterans in the population. Timothy B. Smith called this the “Golden Age of Battlefield Preservation.” Very apt title, coming at the later half of the Gilded Age and conducted by veterans reaching their “golden years.” This period produced five battlefield parks, under government management (Chickamauga-Chattanooga, Shiloh, Gettysburg, Antietam, and Vicksburg). More important, this period provided the blueprints for additional preservation. We talk of the “Gettysburg plan” vs. “Antietam plan” because of methods used. And beyond that, the blueprint incorporated plans for public use. The practical, surface use was interpretation of the battle (notably, justified as an open air classroom for military officers). Less practical, but very much at the fore, was public use for commemoration.
The blueprint established – for both the means and uses – the next big period of preservation was also pushed from the federal level. And it resembled that “golden age”… except for less participation of the veterans, who were passing away by that time. Parks established from 1915 to 1938 included Richmond, Fredericksburg-Spotsylvania, Petersburg, Stones River, and Brices Cross Roads. Also in the list of fields preserved during that period are Revolutionary War sites such as Cowpens, Moore’s Creek, and Kings Mountain. Such indicates “federal directed” preservation had moved beyond the urgings of Civil War veterans to a broader goal embracing the wider context of American history. Sort of a function of the period, if I may. Though I want to steer clear of the obvious rabbit hole there, for the sake of brevity.
The preservation of these major battlefields setup the Centennial of the Civil War. There were places for those observances to occur. But – and let me be clear that I cannot say this from the stance of a participant – those observances seemed confined. The Centennial period, from the perspective of preservation, comes across as entrenchment. The focus was more toward interpretation of what was in place – those wonderful, dated guidebooks and orientation movies that have only recently been updated. In terms of land, bookend achievements at Manassas and Monocacy epitomize the efforts of that era – small, timid efforts that appear, in hindsight, fraught with missed opportunities.
But some of those missed opportunities setup the next period of Civil War battlefield preservation. For the first 100 years after the Civil War, major development threats to battlefields were few and far between. Remoteness insulated many fields from disruption. That changed in the 1970s as the vectors producing “sprawl” brought direct and indirect changes to these battlefields. And the “uncovered” battlefield lands were often thrown into the middle of a public discussion which pitted perceived “progress” against preservation. Typical of these episodes, Manassas battlefield faced major developments on ground which arguably should have been included in the original park’s boundaries. Another example came from Brandy Station, where preservationists contested major development projects which would have obliterated an otherwise pristine battlefield. While both of those sites may be listed as “successful,” other places, such as Chantilly and so many of the Atlanta Campaign sites, were not so. This was a contentious period for preservation, to say the least. This “contentious” period saw private individuals and advocacy groups at the fore of the dialog. In many places, the advocates for preservation came to terms with “preserve what you can” compromises. While federal and state officials were there, it was the preservation advocates doing most of the push. Instead of “top down” driven goals, what emerged were “grass roots” preservation advocates.
Into the 21st Century and approaching the Sesquicentennial, preservation efforts continued along the lines of the last quarter of the previous century. Opportunities came (and still come) with the alert, “targeted ares need protection NOW before something happens.” And these are not “the sky is falling” pleas. The nature of the sprawling development, indicative of this age, leaves no quarter. Such renders the old Antietam plans obsolete. Missed opportunities from the 1960s have translated to obliterated fields. Though at some quarters, such as at Franklin, preservationists have turned to options rehabilitating portions of the battlefield – an extreme of “preserve what you can.” The preservationists through the Sesquicentennial are faced with the question “if not now, when?”
So we see through these five periods, preservation of all that battlefield land was not governed by a single guiding strategy or movement. Rather the preservation efforts were a function of each generation’s initiative. However, at the same time we can say through all the periods, the efforts focused on the land for those two core reasons – interpretation and commemoration. Interpretation, through these periods, remained somewhat rigid for its application (in terms of how we process information, the signage of the 1890s is not far removed from the smart-phone app geo-tag of today) even while the content of the message remained fluid. On the other hand, commemoration has defied any fixed characterization over the decades, ranging from celebration to reflection to introspection. While we all approach the battlefields from the context of history, gaining perspective from the interpretation, what we carry away from them – the commemorative aspect – varies by individual.
And there in lies the answer to the question. The reason we have so much Civil War battlefield space preserved is because that war was a broad, almost limitless, subject from which so much defies concrete definition. We might start the discussion around “facts” or “sources” or such. But in the end, all devolves into “opinions” based on our own perspectives. And the best place to reach any authoritative perspective is standing with both feet planted firmly on the ground.
We have not, as a nation, come to terms with the Civil War after 150 years. So we should not be surprised that we have such an attachment to the ground over which it was fought. Perhaps, the country needs those acres to serve as an unhealed wound.