QUIP 2017 - a writing retreat in South Carolina

I went to the Quakers Uniting in Publications annual conference this month at Penn Center on St. Helena Island, South Carolina, a place draped in Spanish moss and historical buildings. It's the site of an early school for freed slaves, started early in the American Civil War.



We stayed in Benezet House, a century-old dorm that housed female students and teachers and hosted classes and co-ed chapel services.


It was nice staying together in one building, grabbing coffee or tea in the morning or settling into couches with our laptops in the shared living room.


QUIP planned more down-time, this year, between guest speakers and business sessions, so there was a little time to walk down to the water and around the historical buildings, or to think and write.

Last year's storms had closed the public (ocean) beach. After a tumble that left me bruised and a little wobbly, I kept my explorations to the inside of the old house.


I'd noticed chimneys and cupola vents from the outside and wondered if the attic might be accessible. There were, indeed, easy stairs up, but the access was partially covered by a large, precarious piece of scrap wood. I peeked through the opening and decided not to try to wrestle the covering.








Most of the attic was filled with modern HVAC ductwork and blown-in insulation. One curious thing was a small wooden room, built up to the roof. What was it used for - storage? Was it used to hide something?








Covered circles in the chimneys and the wide hallway upstairs indicated that wood stoves were used for heat. A beautiful, built-in armoire in the hallway must have been shared. We looked into the room behind it and discovered the space inside is now used for closets, but the facade of doors and drawers has been preserved!


The small museum across the street was loaded with information about the school and the Gullah people who lived on the islands (no photography allowed).


You can read more about Penn Center in Penn Center: A History Preserved.


Here are posts about QUIP 2012, 2011 (and here),

Fall Bookhunting and Biographical Showdown

I'd planned to go to the Chatham County Library book sale last week, but I worked at my archives job on the opening day and Friday's headache decided me against making the trip for second-day pickings. I knew I'd get another chance at our local library on Saturday.

(As I hunted for books, my cousin was out in the woods bringing in the first deer of the season.)

After hauling three boxes home, I thought my best find would be an unused Picasso coloring book. But as I started looking up online prices, exciting numbers appeared for a faded little biography: I Married Wyatt Earp: The Recollections of Josephine Sarah Marcus Earp.

Alas, my copy turned out to be a second printing, and ex-library at that. Still, it looks like a fascinating book. The adventurous and beautiful Josephine (Josie) met Wyatt Earp during his famous Tombstone days. She became his third wife and the two remained together for 46 years until his death.

Josephine was very protective of Wyatt's and her own reputation. In her older, more reputable years, she tried to dictate a biography to two female relatives. She kept trying to omit the stories of her younger days — the interesting parts — so the manuscripts languished on the shelf.

After her death, Glenn Boyer, who grew up around Earp relatives and had briefly met Josie, added research to the manuscripts, publishing this popular book in 1976.

That's not the end of the story.

Two decades later, a Phoenix reporter claimed that Boyer had made up the whole thing. The book was pulled from publication and Boyer's reputation fell through the floor. Looking at the extensive notes throughout the book, I take the hoax claim with a couple grains of salt, although Boyer may be one of those writers who use "creative license" when it comes to historical conversations and voice (a practice I can't stand in nonfiction).  Here's a 2009 interview with Boyer wherein he discusses sources, Josie's own embellishments, and the "curse" of the Earp historians.

The photo on the dustjacket is a toned-down, edited version of a famous photograph, reputed to be Josephine Earp. According to the Collector's Guide to Early Photographs this partially nude photo, sexy even by today's standards, was printed in the early 20th century from an 1880s negative. As of this writing, an Australian seller is purportedly offering the original on eBay here. If it is indeed the original, the asking price is slightly lower than when it sold at auction in 1998. The controversy continues, as online sources debate whether the photo could have any connection to Josephine.

Speaking of photography, I added a lengthy biography on George Eastman to the collection. I found his story fascinating when I visited the Eastman House in Rochester, NY. Other biographies and memoirs came home in this bookhunting excursion, including Dr. Livingstone, Flora MacDonald, Lewis and Clark, and Iron Eyes Cody.

Wordless Wednesday — What soldiers ate, then and now

Guest post by Robert Candler, who took these pictures at the South Carolina Military Museum in Columbia, S.C.




Rations for the American Revolutionary War

(Here's my previous post about What Soldiers Ate, including the British, during the War of Independence.)

Civil War rations










World War I — including corned beef and canned milk

World War II — K-rations were packaged for individual soldiers who were traveling light.

World War II — C-rations were complete meals that could be heated.














Good ol' MREs — Meals, Ready-to-Eat — are the standard issue for today's troops.

Titanic plans

A 33-foot-long scale drawing of the Titanic, showing how sections and rooms were used, has been put on display at the new Titanic Belfast museum. The drawing was used during the investigation of the disastrous sinking in 1912, and may have existed during the ship's construction. Investigators marked the places where they thought the iceberg broke through the hull — a much smaller area than modern experts had thought before the privately-owned document came to public view in 2011.

Source - BBC News / bbc.co.uk

Here's a BBC video with the conservator, showing the drawing rolled out across a table.

Thanks to this The History Blog article, which also includes links to official inquiry transcripts.

Guglielmo Marconi, who launched telegraph technology, was one of those who testified. Here's my previous post about R.M.S. Titanic and Marconi's two dedicated wireless operators.

Irish history in the details — Sheep and bawns and rushes on the floor

I want my novel to transport readers back to 17th-century Ireland. As a writer, I want to transport myself back in time, so I can absorb enough little details to make the story real.

MacLysaght's book, Irish Life in the Seventeenth Century (previous post) keeps giving me good tidbits, but via slow, rambling prose. I don't have to use them all, but some will lead to edits.

For example, in the draft, Dinah English has a serious talk with her brother John while he's out watching the sheep. Most days, I have him plowing or harvesting. In fiction, you want variety in the your characters' actions. In real life, however, their daily tasks would have been repetitive.

MacLysaght wrote that people didn't keep many sheep in nearby King's County (Offaly) because wolves were so prevalent. Wolves! People brought their livestock into the bawn at night to protect their animals, not only from wolves but also from bandits. I'd seen the word "bawn" before, on a drawing near the Castle in Moate. You won't find it in Webster's Collegiate Fourth Edition, but Wikipedia says bawns were later used for kitchen gardens.











This stone enclosure sits across the creek from the Castle in Moate, County Westmeath, where the Clibborns lived. It may have been used as a protective corral, a roofless barn. I threw that little detail into the story.

The Englishes must have had some sheep, because the wool industry in Ireland had not yet been crushed by the late 17th-century English laws. However, John English can't be a full-time farmer and a full-time shepherd. My semi-fictional family, living in near-poverty, brings their livestock into a bedroom-sized barn at night, so they can't have a whole flock. Maybe just a few sheep, so they can spin wool for their own clothes.

The Clibborn family of the Castle had more wealth. One map drawing (that I can't find right now) labels the eastern courtyard as "the bawn." The same map labels the stone structure across the creek as a "walled garden."

I didn't take any pictures inside the courtyard when I visited in 2009, but I have the impression that horse stalls run along the longer inside walls. This photo shows the outside of the courtyard/stables, which might have been John Clibborn's bawn.

Here's a detail I decided not to use. MacLysaght writes that people in small castles and keeps (I would call them manor houses) in 17th-century Ireland didn't have much furniture. Instead, they threw layers of rushes on the floor, sometimes three feet deep, and sat and slept on them. Wait a minute! I want to be authentic, but that's too alien to our idea of post-medieval history. How would you walk around in a room filled up to the windows with some sort of perpetual haystack? Quennell's A History of Everyday Things in England shows plenty of 17th-century furniture. Even though that's in England, not Ireland, I'm sticking with sofas and chairs and (perhaps) rope beds for my story.

Here's one more detail — that didn't come from a book — as I imagine John English working the family farm. A few months ago, my Uncle Jim told me how he plowed with a mule as a young man in eastern North Carolina. I was astonished! Yes, some people had tractors then, he said, but they were expensive and unreliable. I asked him if he had to be strong to push the plow down; was he working as hard as the mule? Oh, no, the mule did the work, he said, but the walking wore him out. Especially with a single plow, one row at a time. You walked all day long, and the work was mind-blowingly tedious.

By the way, horses can't stand that tedium. That's why mules and oxen make better farm animals.

I'm amazed how, nearly three hundred years later in the early part of the 20th century, my family did the same work, in the same way, as John English probably did back in Ireland.

Can a house be historic and new? — Linbrook Hall

Linbrook Hall

Every year, Jerry Neal performs a tribute to Guglielmo Marconi (inventor of the telegraph) at his lovely Linbrook Estate in Randolph County, North Carolina. I'd always thought the show sounded interesting, but had never seen it. When I found out that Neal planned to commemorate the 100th anniversary of the sinking of Titanic in this year's rendition, I especially wanted to go.

I love this grand staircase!

I got to tour the main floor of Linbrook Hall before the show. The house, with its 18th-century architecture and furnishings, is only about eight years old. Jerry and Linda Neal wanted to build a home with a classic, timeless feel, near the land where Jerry's ancestors have lived for the past 250 years. (You can see more photos here.) But they don't live in it — the Neals live nearby and use the grand house for charity and private events.

Small signs told about particularly old antiques and family mementos. The large kitchen is modern, with walk-in refrigerators, but the stone counters and antique-style ovens fit right in with the rest of the house. I noticed that every room had at least a few books as part of the decor.

Notice the rolling staircase on the right.

Of course, my favorite room was the library. I just had to walk around the room and peruse the titles. I especially liked the moveable staircase, complete with decorative railing at the top.

Linbrook Hall at night

The event included wine and cheese on the patio outside the breezeway, and the evening air was perfect. 

I shyly sat next to a couple and we introduced ourselves. They turned out to be my mom's long-time neighbors! I had heard their names mentioned for years, but rarely met them because of their travels. We had a lovely time talking about their recent trip to Asia.
Just before dusk, we went inside to see Jerry Neal's presentation of "Marconi Speaks," which I wrote about here.


Interior photos courtesy of Linbrook Heritage Estate.

Disclosure: I received a complimentary ticket to this event through my chamber of commerce membership, with no obligation to write about it.

Mobile phones, the wireless, and Titanic

We take our mobile phones for granted. I know many people with smartphones now, although I still consider them a luxury item. Even I can text on my dinky cell phone. Best of all, although I hope I don't need it, I can call 911 anytime (and yes, it is 911 for cell phones in my state).

In early 1912, the telegraph was the new gadget, a novelty used by upper-class travelers to chat with their friends back home. The equivalent of today's smartphone with Facebook.

Jerry Neal as Guglielmo Marconi

That changed when the R.M.S. Titanic struck an iceberg April 14, 1912, and started to sink. The telegraph transformed from social networking device into the most basic emergency system. Titanic's operators transmitted "CQD," the maritime call for help, with the ship's position at 12:15 a.m. April 15.

I learned about the wireless aspect of the famous disaster last weekend during Jerry Neal's performance as Guglielmo Marconi. Neal is the co-founder of RF Micro Devices, Inc. (for cell phones and other applications) and owner of Linbrook Estate, where I saw his performance. Since childhood he's been fascinated with Marconi (1874-1939), who invented telegraph technology and sent the first transatlantic wireless signals in 1901.

As part of the deal between Marconi and White Star Line, he and his family had free passage on Titanic's maiden voyage. But Marconi decided to take earlier transport to America and his wife and children joined him later.

Titanic artifacts at Linbrook Hall

Marconi had two telegraph operators onboard Titanic, John "Jack" Phillips, 24, and Harold Bride, 22. The two men stayed at their post even after being told they could leave. Phillips was lost, but Bride survived the icy Atlantic. Recovering from his rescue with frost-bitten feet, Bride was carried into the wireless room to give Carpathia's exhausted telegraph operator a few hours' rest.

The operators weren't the only ones to stick to their posts in an attempt to save as many passengers as possible. Engineering crew members stayed to keep the lights on as long as possible. Boiler operators, firemen, and the famous band, all kept working.

With 1,523 casualties, Titanic remains the greatest peacetime disaster in maritime history. In honor of that, Neal's grandson Charles Neal composed a song, "Signals," for the occasion. He also played a solemn trumpet solo of "Nearer My God to Thee."

After the performance, Neal answered questions in character about Marconi.

Earlier in the evening I got to tour Linbrook Hall. I'll share more about that in Monday's post.
Meanwhile, if you'd like to learn lots of details about the Titanic, including the people onboard and recovery operations, I recommend the book Titanic: Destination Disaster, The Legends and the Reality.

Photos courtesy of Linbrook Heritage Estate.

Disclosure: I received a complimentary ticket to this event through my chamber of commerce membership, with no obligation to write about it.

Genealogical Epiphany: A Blessed Injury

I recently made a Storybook (photo book) for my uncle, which required scanning my dad's negatives from the 1950s. The fun part was getting together with my maternal aunt so she could tell me who the people in the pictures were. But she mentioned something that really surprised me. She said, matter-of-factly, that my uncle's brothers were given a vaccine in the military that made them sterile. What?!

Yes, she nodded. Something that was supposed to protect them from biological warfare. Hallie never had any children. Neither did Husie. Clark had a child before going off to war (I'm not sure if this was World War II or the Korean War), but never had any more after he came home. My uncle, who never went into the military, had children, and so did his sister.

I filed that tidbit away in the back of my mind and a couple of busy weeks passed. Then one morning in the shower (a popular place for brainstorms), I started thinking about my dad's side of the family. Daddy's brothers served in World War II. It suddenly occurred to me that Jack never had any children (he had a stepson). Gene couldn't have children, so he and his wife adopted. Wayne never had children, either. All three were overseas in combat. Their younger brother Randall had children (16 years apart!), but he stayed in the U.S., stationed in Texas near the end of the War. Most of our cousins came from the girls in the family.

I think Daddy was drafted. He packed his things, gave his class ring to his sweetheart (Momma) and reported in. But Daddy had a bad ear from a childhood injury, and they sent him home. That ear bothered him all his life.

I'm not one of those anti-government people at all; I've always relegated clandestine experiments and government cover-ups to the X-Files and other fiction. And this is all conjecture; I don't have any proof.

But here's the epiphany (as the water in the shower grows colder) — if it weren't for Daddy's injured ear, my sister and I might not be here.