Belmont

No matter how early we arrived for work, or how late we left, someone was always there before and after us.  The ladies who cooked breakfast were there before the earliest waitresses, who sometimes arrived when it was still as dark as the middle of the night.  But even they were never the first, since the general manager and a caretaker both lived in houses on the property, within sight of the main house.  In the evenings, the chef always (depending on the chef), stayed until all the wait staff had gone home.  It was the house man who stayed the latest, turning out all of the downstairs lights and locking the doors.

Sometimes, the wait and kitchen staff would be having such a good time with each other that we would sit around in the staff room or outside the back door for awhile after our work was finished.  When the office was located in the main house near the front door, sometimes we would stay to chat with the house man and drink 'leftover wine.'  It was often during these late-night sessions that strange stories would be told, and sometimes, when unusual things would happen, between the front door and the back of the service wing.  In the dining room, especially, things would move.  Silverware, glasses, even food from the tables would slide, fall, disappear or become airborne, usually when there was no one nearby who could possibly be responsible.  Sometimes the strange and unusual events, while eerie, would have a perfectly earthly origin--- like the eerie screaming from the direction of the cemetery, which only meant that a deer had gotten stuck in the fence.  Surrounded by acres and acres of rolling fields, themselves bordered by miles of woodland belonging to the State of Maryland, the spot is an island of quiet, undisturbed nature that often seems outside of the reach of time.

Clover Hill

A 1772 house that sat abandoned, just over the hill from my house, the entire time I was growing up.  I never knew it was there.

PFI May 7, 2011

Kennedy Farmhouse

April 2009

I made a trip out to Frostburg last Thursday for a visit with my daughter, and took advantage of the fact that I was traveling alone by making some fun side trips on the way back. My primary goal was to find the Kennedy Farmhouse, the secluded farmhouse in the shadow of South Mountain, south of Sharpsburg and north of Sandy Hook, where John Brown hid out, stockpiled weapons, and planned his raid on Harper's Ferry during the summer and early fall of 1859. Many winding roads and brown signs later, I finally came upon the historical marker which pointed me to the back of a clearing beside the road where, behind a chain link fence (and, unfortunately, a locked gate) stood the surprisingly small farmhouse. It is hard to believe that at one time during those exciting, secretive months in the life of this building, up to 21 people were hidden in the attic and could only emerge quietly in the dark of night to help unload shipments of arms and equipment and to make plans.



Since I was in the area, I decided to visit Crampton's Gap, the only one of the three 'gaps' involved in the Battle of South Mountain that I had not yet visited. After the war, a large portion of the battlefield at Crampton's Gap was purchased by George Alfred Townsend, a sometime journalist and author of the strange novels Katy of Catoctin and The Entailed Hat, who dubbed himself  "Gath." He covered his part of the mountain with buildings and other structures, including the War Correspondents Arch, which is dedicated to the artists and journalists who were active during the Civil War.


This is the arch as seen from the road coming up from Burkittsville.


A terra-cotta horse's head

Gath has been criticized for having an inflated ego, for obscuring the significance of the battlefield by overlaying it with the many constructions (monuments to himself?) on his estate, and also for leaving off the names of many who should have been named on the Arch, and including many who should not have been. Here is an article on the subject by a Burkittsville writer.

When I arrived at Crampton's Gap last Thursday, it had become overcast and was just beginning to rain. It was a warm day, and the wonderful smell of ozone was in the air. It was late in the afternoon, close to 5:00, and the park office was closed. I was the only person in sight, except for the occasional passing car. It was perfectly quiet except for the sound of the rain and the birds. The mountain pass smelled of 'clean woods.'


Forsythia and wild rhododendron at Crampton's Gap.

If it had been earlier in the day, I would have taken a walk along the ridge on the Appalachian Trail which passes right through the Gap, just behind Gath's mausoleum. Most of the buildings Gath constructed are now gone, some with only the foundations remaining. The strangest is definitely the mausoleum he built for himself, which he never occupied after death...by that time, his fortunes had changed, and for some reason he was buried in a cemetery in Philadelphia instead.


Gath's mausoleum and a nearby stone arch.


Gath's epitaph.


This is part of a strange, roofless enclosure, the size of a small house, with two openings to walk through. It's near the mausoleum, and nobody knows what he built it for. I just think he liked building drystone walls....it is pretty impressive!

On the way back down the mountain, heading west in the path of the Confederate retreat, I passed a huge old stone farmhouse with a very busy dog running around nearby. I stopped and he posed for a picture. I think he is one of the many 'black dogs' who have guarded the passes on South Mountain as long as anyone can remember. Fantastic, magical, and terrifying qualities are reported of these dogs, who go by the collective name of the "Snarly Yow." Whether they are related, all aspects of the same being, or whether they carry the spirits of long-standing guardians of this special place will, for now, remain a mystery.



Before I left for home, I made a quick drive up to Fox's Gap to check my favorite mirror at the site of the Wise Farm. This spot, too, was quiet and deserted, and I took a few more pictures. Maybe next time I'm up there I can pick some apples again...they were small and a little buggy but they made good applesauce :-D

Margaret Hopkins Fitzgerald and the Burning of Hampton

(April 19, 2010)

Today a friend remarked that it saddens him to see boxes of old photos in an antique or thrift store, knowing that the descendants of the people in the photos either no longer have an interest in them, or perhaps don't even know who they were. Names and dates are one kind of knowledge.....but stories are another. I have collected so many names, dates, and locations while learning the history of my family, and I am consumed by curiosity about what they did...what happened to them...what were the big events in their lives? ---as well as small clues about their personality traits. I want to learn things about them and write them down, so these stories and details aren't lost forever just because nobody remembers them. I will never know exactly what these people were like, but I can put together clues from the places and times they lived in and what details I can find. This is an exciting process.

So, last Friday when on a bored and idle whim I decided to search for historical documents about Thomas Fitzgerald (a great-great grandfather whose parentage I hadn't figured out yet), imagine my surprise when I found an article entitled "A Short History of Bascom's Chapel, Eastern Shore Methodism During the Civil War, and the Hopkins/FitzGerald Family Connection." I know. It sounds pretty boring. I'm not at all fascinated by church history, and although I am interested in the Civil War, I didn't think much of anything happened on the Eastern Shore, and it looks like it didn't......other than Federal troops taking over church buildings for barracks, and similar things. No, the exciting part was "the Hopkins/FitzGerald Family Connection", and while I'm not terribly interested in their religious affiliations and loyalties, this article contained an exciting passage about Margaret Hopkins Fitzgerald, Thomas' wife and my grandfather's great-grandmother:

"It was during the winter, late 1861 or early 1862, while the Yankee troops used the churches and schools in Onancock as barracks and set up tent encampments on private property throughout the town, that Margaret Anne Hopkins FitzGerald, an early war widow, slipped through the blockade and arrived with her seven children to live in Onancock. Her eldest son, Nehemiah, was serving with the 2nd Company of Richmond Howitzers. Her brother, John P.L. Hopkins, had sent a schooner to bring her home from wherever she had fled when Hampton, Virginia was burned to the ground (in August, 1861.) She had resided there in Elizabeth City County since her marriage on Christmas Day, 1837 in Onancock.

"With her husband dead, her home burned, and no means of support, Margaret moved to a house provided by her father, Stephen A. Hopkins, who most likely also provided financial support. She took in sewing to add a few pennies to her meager funds. Just a few steps away from her front door at 25 King Street, today known as the Fitzgerald House, was a church building---Bascom's Chapel."

........ I found another article today which stated that Stephen Hopkins (Margaret's father) was one of two men 'authorized' to run ships out of Onancock past the blockade, which must explain why her brother could go and fetch her from Hampton

Bascom's Chapel was formed in the 1840s, when the Methodist Church split over the question of ownership of slaves. Bascom's was the 'pro-slavery' church, from what I can determine. The article goes on to talk about Margaret's involvement and dispute with the chapel in later years.

I did learn several new things in this article--- First of all, that because Margaret is referred to as an "early war widow," Thomas E. Fitzgerald's death (which I have recorded as occuring in 1863, but according to this article he was dead by the beginning of 1862) had something to do with the war, whether he was a soldier or got caught up in the action as a citizen. I'm wondering if it had to do with the occupation or the burning of Hampton. Also, I learned the identity of the Fitzgerald (Nehemiah) who served in the Confederate Army. My dad had told me only that it was 'one of the boys.' After the war, Nehemiah went to California, where he worked as a teacher. He must have had an interesting life. During the course of my bored and idle searching on Friday, I also found the probable parents of Thomas Fitzgerald....wouldn't you know, he is descended from the Onancock Chandlers, into whose family his daughter would then marry. His grandson was Carson Fitzgerald Chandler, the first of three men to have that name. The youngest is my father.

The photo below shows the first Carson Fitzgerald Chandler, Margaret and Thomas' grandson, with his wife Edith Augusta "Gussie" Walsh Chandler and my grandfather, Carson F. Chandler Jr., as a baby. It was taken in about 1915 in Virginia.

Caves and Goats at Harpers Ferry

This small cave is located in the hillside above Potomac Street and below High Street in Harpers Ferry, West Virginia-- a beautiful, sleepy old town at the junction of the Potomac and Shenandoah Rivers. Centuries of peace and quiet have enveloped the town, with the exception of the years before and during the Civil War, when it was the scene of John Brown's attempted takeover of the U.S. Armory and the object of constant contention between the Federal and Confederate Armies.

The photo above is a reminder of two of Harpers Ferry's more eccentric residents. The cave, I am told, is Dr. Brown's Cave, or at least that is the name by which it is currently known. There are stories of a cave located in or near town, yet the identity of which "Brown" used the cave, or if either of the "Browns" actually used this particular cave, remain unclear. "It is said" that there's a cave at Harpers Ferry that John Brown used. Local lore recorded in the papers of Grant Conway tell of a cave near the B&O Railroad tracks where slaves met and plotted to assist John Brown in his insurrection. This cave was said to have had a passage which ended at the basement of the Harper House. A Union soldier named Edward Schilling wrote a letter to his family in March of 1863 where he described a cave found by him and a group of friends while they were foraging for boards. He described long passages and large caverns, some containing water, as well as signs that someone had used the cave before them.

There was an earlier Brown, however, who may have used this cave first and given it its name. In the first decade of the nineteenth century, a former surgeon in the American Revolutionary Army, a native of Scotland, took up residence in Harpers Ferry. This Dr. Brown was a bachelor and was well enough off that he could afford to be eccentric and risk the disapproval of local society. One of the manifestations of his uniqueness was his great love of dogs and cats. It is said that in his strolls through this tiny town, Dr. Brown was sometimes accompanied by as many as 50 dogs. He used, as his storehouse and pharmacy, "a cave, partly natural and partly artificial." Dr. Brown's residence was on the south side of High Street, just above the cave in the photo above. When I looked into this cave, it appeared to be just a small chamber. Could there have been a passage in a corner that I overlooked, which may have led to more openings and passageways beneath the town? Maybe the natural portions of the cave have been closed off....or maybe they just remain hidden from the casual visitor. Then again, maybe this little chamber is just a conveniently visible feature useful for ghost tours and historical interpretations, something accessible that can be attached to the colorful legends of this town.

The most interesting thing about the cave I found to be the painting of a goat on the rear wall, facing the entrance. This made more sense, however, when I later came upon the story of a man who, shortly after the Civil War, lived across the Potomac River from Harpers Ferry and kept a herd of goats. Some of these goats got into the habit of climbing the steep cliffs of Maryland Heights, and became more and more wild as the years went on. In 1890, the herd was thought to number about a hundred, and goats could clearly be seen on most days by people on the train platform at Harpers Ferry, scrambling among the rocks in the inaccessible areas of the Heights above the river. The rocky hillside on which the feral goats loved to roam faced the opening of my goat cave, on the opposite side of the Potomac River. The goats remained and in 1980, there were still 28 wild goats roaming the cliffs. At one point following this, residents began to notice the absence of the once familiar goats, and still no one knows what happened to them. Harpers Ferry Park historian Kevin Frye has a theory, though....He believes that one cold winter night, the goats took shelter in the railroad tunnel and were killed by a freight train.

~~~

View of Maryland Heights and the railroad tunnel from the hillside near the Catholic Church in Harpers Ferry