There’s my job, which is how I support myself and my family. And then there’s my avocation, which is researching, writing, and publishing books. The two things are, for the most, not terribly consistent with each other.

My job: I’m a partner in a law firm with a pretty busy practice. I’ve made a career of avoiding domestic relations work, which is all about emotions and almost never about what makes business sense, and criminal defense work, with which I have fundamental philosophical issues. My bent is, and always has been, what makes business sense? The legal issues are what they are, and they have to be factored into the process of making decisions, but my fundamental issue has always been doing things that make business sense. If the legal implications are equal, I will always advise the client to do the thing that makes the most business sense for them.

There are some things about my job that I have always found rewarding. I have always enjoyed the intellectual challenge. I’m a good strategist and a decent tactician, and I love developing and implementing strategies. I enjoy creative solutions to problems. And I do find helping people to be rewarding. At the same time, there’s lots about my job that I absolutely despise. I hate chasing people to get paid. I hate feeling taken advantage of, and that happens much more often than I might otherwise like. It frustrates me to no end and really sours me toward the field. There are too many lawyers who decide that every case is worth fighting to the death over–even if it doesn’t make economic sense to do so–and they make life miserable for all of us. There are way too many lawyers and not enough good work, so a lot of bad lawsuits get filed. It makes all of us look bad, and it means that legitimate claims are often swept under the rug. It’s a very stressful existence, and I don’t bounce back from it the way I did when I was younger.

On the whole, after 18+ years of doing this for a living, I’m soon going to reach the burn-out point. The problem is that it pays well, and we have become accustomed to a nice standard of living. The term for my situation is “golden handcuffs”, and I wear them. Until I can figure out how to support myself at something close to the accustomed standard of living, I’m stuck here, and I’m stuck practicing law.

Which brings me to the point of this post–which is NOT looking for sympathy. Unlike the likes of J. K. Rowling, the most I have ever made in a given year from all of my historical work combined is about $10,000, which is certainly nothing even remotely close for a family to live on. If only there was a way that I could make a decent living with my historical work, I would certainly be a much happier guy. I really love the publishing business. The work we do at Ironclad is some of the most rewarding work I do. However, it’s the same story….we simply don’t make enough money to be able to take a dime out of the company. So, what we have is a company that does really good work–we publish some real quality works–but that is severely limited in what we as a company can do, and whatever we accomplish with it is basically a labor of love, because we certainly haven’t ever gotten paid a dime for anything any of us has done on behalf of the company. And, the trend in the publishing industry is shrinking sales–which will probably shrink even more if Google’s reprehensible copyright infringement scheme is permitted to proceed–meaning that there’s not a lot of opportunities for Ironclad to really expand or take on a really significant place in the market. So, as much as I love the process of giving birth to a book, both as author and as publisher, the money’s just not there for it to be financially viable.

However, it is what it is–history is something that gets short shrift in this society, which is much more interested in bling and in pop culture than learning from the lessons of history. I personally find it appalling that an airheaded bimbo whose sole claim to fame is genetics such as that moron Paris Hilton sells hundreds of thousands of copies of the crap that is ghostwritten for her, but people don’t buy history books except every great once in a while when the likes of David McCullough turns out a great book, but that’s definitely the exception and not the rule. Jessica Simpson’s marital issues and Britney Spears’ baby are far more important to the vast majority of Americans than understanding our historical heritage and what that means to the rest of us. Until that changes, it means that guys like me will continue to have to be amateurs who work at history as an avocation and not a vocation. And that’s sad.

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Today is November 19, the 142nd anniversary of the Gettysburg Address. The anniversary has really taken on a life of its own in Gettysburg.

Every year on Remembrance Day, as the anniversary is known, there is a parade of reenactors honoring the soldiers who fought at Gettysburg. I have never been there for the Remembrance Day parade, nor does the event hold even the slightest, tiniest little bit of interest for me.

I’m not a “living historian,” whatever that means (I say “whatever that means” because I have yet to come up with a definition of the term that more that two people agree with). Three very close friends of mine portray individuals who were at Gettysburg. One portrays Lt. Gen. James Longstreet. One portrays Col. Thomas C. Devin, and the third portrays Col. William Gamble. All three were there today, although I doubt that the fellows who portray Devin and Gamble participated in the parade–they usually set up shop on McPherson’s Ridge and educate people about John Buford’s stand on July 1. I’m not sure about General Longstreet. Because they do first-person impressions of figures who played significant roles in the Battle of Gettysburg, this is understandably an important event for them.

I’m also not a reenactor. I won’t get into the issue of farbs and realism. Suffice it to say that I am 6’3″+, I weigh more than 275 pounds, and I’m generally a big guy. I’m also 44 years old and have more gray hair than brown at this point in my life. Your average Civil War cavalryman was 5’3″, weighed 130 pounds, and was in his 20’s. I can’t even remember the last time I weighed 130 pounds, but it was probably in middle school. I also haven’t been on a horse since I was a child. Yet, my primary interest is Civil War cavalry. Given my own limitations, I would be one of the guys that people laugh at as reenactors. Hence, being painfully aware of my own limitations, I choose to avoid the issue. ‘Nuff said about reenacting.

I’m a guy who researches and writes, and who studies the war and the men who fought for something that they believed in. Consequently, the anniversary of Lincoln’s great speech–arguably THE greatest speech ever given by a politician–has never held much interest for me, even though the speech itself is compelling and fascinating. I absolutely hate being in Gettysburg when there are huge crowds there, and this, along with the anniversary of the battle, is one of two times per year when the crowds are immense. I get very uncomfortable in those kinds of crowds there, simply because the town does not have the infrastructure to handle it. You can’t park your car. You can’t get a table in a restaurant. The sidewalks are jammed. I could go on, but you get the idea. For me, it’s not a pleasant place to be at those times, and I try to avoid it all costs. That especially includes the anniversary fo the battle. So, I’ve just never had any interest in being there for Remembrance Day, and this year was certainly no exception.

To my friends who were there–I hope you had a great time. I know it’s an event that’s important to you, and I’m glad you were there enjoying camaraderie at an event you particularly enjoy. I hope it–and the parade–was terrific. To Mike and J. D., I hope you had LOTS of interested visitors out there on McPherson’s Ridge.

Having said that, I do regret not being there last year. Last year was the final time that my friend and mentor Brian Pohanka proudly led his Zouaves in the parade. Brian was already terribly ill, and he knew his days were numbered. He told me that he knew it would be his last parade, and that he was going to go and do it, no matter what, and he did. After the parade, he gathered his men around him on Little Round Top and told them that it would be his last time, and that he didn’t think he would be around this year at this time. He encouraged his men to carry the flame and to continue his work, even if he wouldn’t be there with them. I’m told that there was not a dry eye in the crowd, which doesn’t surprise me a bit.

Sadly, Brian was correct. He left us in June, and for those who regularly attend the parade, I’m sure it was strange not seeing him leading his beloved Zouaves down the parade route. I’m sure he was missed, and I hope someone sang “The Vacant Chair” for him this weekend. This was an event that meant a lot to him, and I’m sure he was watching over the parade from a better place, proudly cheering his Zouaves on. Rest well, Brian. You’re missed.

THE VACANT CHAIR

We shall meet but we shall miss him.
There will be one vacant chair.
We shall linger to caress him,
While we breathe our ev’ning prayer.
When a year ago we gathered,
Joy was in his mild blue eye.
But a golden cord is severed.
And our hopes in ruin lie.

We shall meet, but we shall miss him.
There will be one vacant chair.
We shall linger to caress him,
While we breathe our ev’ning prayer.

At our fireside, sad and lonely,
Often will the bosom swell,
At remembrance of the story,
How our noble Willie fell.
How he strove to bear our banner,
Thro’ the thickest of the fight,
And uphold our country’s honor
In the strength of manhood’s might.

True they tell us wreaths of glory,
Evermore will deck his brow,
But this soothes the anguish only,
Sweeping o’er our heartstrings now.
Sleep today o’ early fallen,
In thy green and narrow bed.
Dirges from the pine and cypress
Mingle with the tears we shed.

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Dimitri Rotov had a fascinating round-up of the reviews of Doris Kearns Goodwin’s new book on his blog yesterday. One, in particular, jumped off the page at me.

“Goodwin and company have little new to tell us and stick to the standard fare. Most of the familiar Lincoln stories are here — from the suggestion from a young girl that he grow a beard to his attitude about Ulysses Grant’s drinking.” She does introduce this novelty, the reviewer says: “Goodwin describes the scene when an aide to Stanton visits Lincoln’s office to ask a question: Lincoln greeted him. ‘What’s up?’ Really? What’s up with that?” This review came from the Pittsburgh Post-Gazette, which is a pretty decent newspaper.

This brings me back full circle to an issue I have addressed at some length: the propensity for some historians to just make stuff up when it suits them to do so. Clearly Doris Kearns Goodwin, who used to have a great deal of credibility as an historian, has taken such liberties here. I can imagine a lot of things that Abe Lincoln might have said. “What’s up?” is definitely NOT one of them. I’ve already addressed the issue of Tom Carhart simply making up conversations in one of my very first posts on this blog and don’t see the need to beat that poor dead horse here again. I’ve also addressed the issue of intellectual dishonesty here as well, and won’t repeat that, eiher.

Suffice it to say that what Goodwin did here, while perhaps pleasant reading, is just as intellectually dishonest as plagiarism, which, by the way, she’s also been accused of. That matter was recently settled by her. Call me a purist, but I simply cannot fathom holding these sorts of authors in high esteem, but it happens. I just don’t get it.

For a really interesting perspective on these issues, I recommend Prof. Thomas Mallon’s excellent book Stolen Words, which is sort of a history of plagiarism from the perspective of a fiction writer who has obviously spent a lot of time considering this issue. Read that, and then consider the writings of Joseph Ellis, Stephen Ambrose, Tom Carhart, and Doris Kearns Goodwin and see what you think then.

I’ve always tended to lean in precisely the opposite direction. This is undoubtedly my legal training coming through, but I was taught to footnote anything that is not an original thought, and that’s precisely what I do. My book The Union Comes of Age has well over 1,000 endnotes in it. Why? Because I am fanatical about giving credit where it’s due. And, if I speculate about something–make something up, if you will–I always come right out and say that I am speculating.

Otherwise, I would be guilty of precisely the same intellectual dishonesty that I have lambasted so loudly here.

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I have incredibly mixed feelings about indexes. On one hand, they’re absolutely critical to making a Civil War book useful. As a general rule, I won’t buy a book if it doesn’t include an index. At the same time, indexes are the bane of my existence.

As a general rule of thumb, authors are required to provide their own indexes to books. All but one of the publishing contracts that I have ever signed have said that the index is the author’s responsibility. This creates real problems for me. As someone who admittedly has a short attention span and who also has too much on his plate, the thought of being forced to do my own index turns me into a quivering pile of jelly. I simply don’t have the time, attention span, or inclination to do indexes myself. I tried once, and I almost went insane within a matter of hours of beginning. It was hideous, and I had so much stress and so much anxiety over it that I vowed I would never, ever do one again.

I know, for instance, that Ed Longacre does his own indexes. I know this because he has told me so, and I’ve actually seen the enormous collection of index cards that he uses to do it. To Ed and any other author that has the wherewithal to do their own indexes, my hat’s off to you. You’re a better man than I am, because this is something that I just cannot bring myself to do.

I realize that this is a bit of an oxymoron. I’m a lawyer, and I spend my days either drafting contracts, or evaluating and presenting evidence. It’s all about attention to detail. I’ve never had a problem with that, provided that I have sufficient time to take breaks and refocus myself. I can spend hours and hours poring over boxes of documents produced in discovery, but I just can’t do an index. Perhaps it’s that I have to be so focused at work all day that I can’t force myself to do this. Perhaps it’s that I use up my quota of concentration on minute details at the office and simply don’t have enough left at the end of the day to come home and force myself to do an index. I honestly don’t know. I just know that I can’t do it.

Most of my publishers have offered me the opportunity of having them prepare the index at my expense–typically $600 or so, which is deducted from royalties. I have eagerly and joyously leaped at those opportunities and have gladly said yes every time that it’s been offered to me. My new book is in final preparation and not far from being ready to go to the printer, and Ted Savas, my publisher, informed me the other day that his preparing the index is not an option, that Savas Beatie does not get involved, and that it’s my responsibility. This quite literally sent shivers of fear up my spine. This was my worst nightmare about to come true.

Fortunately, Ted put me in touch with Lee Merideth, who does lots of indexes for lots of authors. I’ve gladly and enthusiastically turned the project over to Lee to prepare the index for me, and I will happily write that check to avoid having to do it myself. Lee, my hat’s off to you. You’re a better man than I am to want to spend your evenings voluntarily plowing through this level of minutae. 🙂

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Yesterday, I discussed the process by which I find the material that goes into my work. Today, I will discuss what happens to it once I’ve got it.

As a lawyer, I’ve been trained in evaluating evidence. Evaluating and presenting evidence is my job. With experience, you learn what’s credible and what’s not. You learn when something can be relied upon and when it can’t. A key, of course, is whether something can be corroborated. If it can be corroborated by an independent source, then it’s reliable. So, the key for me is to evaluate the sources and then to determine what’s reliable and what isn’t.

I always look for things to corroborate my sources, or, as an old friend likes to say, calibrate my sources. If there is a second account that says basically the same thing, then it’s a reliable source and I will use it. Conversely, if it can’t be corroborated, odds are that it won’t be used at all. If I do use it, it will be with a caveat, usually stated in a footnote, that the source cannot be corroborated and hence is not entirely reliable. That happens only rarely.

I also talked about the timing of the account yesterday. A good of rule of thumb is: the closer in time to the event that the account is written, the more reliable it’s likely to be. Consequently, things written right away get a lot of leeway with me, because they’re so fresh, while accounts written forty years after the fact typically don’t, simply because we have no idea what factored into the writing of that account. So, if someone writes within a couple of days of the event, it’s likely to be defendable because it’s fresh. So, I always look at the timing of the recording of the account.

Another factor to consider is where it came from. If it’s a letter, it’s probably more reliable than a memoir written years later, since memoirs typically have some agenda in mind when they’re being written (if you need an example of this, see James Longstreet’s memoirs, From Manassas to Appomattox, which were written as an opportunity for Pete Longstreet to defend himself from the Lost Causers who blamed him for the Confederate defeat at Gettysburg). Diaries tend to be very reliable, since they weren’t written for anyone to read but the diarist, meaning that there was no incentive to spin things. I tend to find that items from the Southern Historical Society Papers are not terribly reliable since they were written with a clear agenda, the Lost Cause. Consequently, I tend not to use them unless I’m addressing a controversy or I want spin.

Finally, there’s what one of my old law school professors used to describe as the judicious use of gastronomical jurisprudence. In other words, does this pass the smell test? Sometimes, you read something, and you just know it’s made up or badly puffed, and not reliable. You can just tell. You get a gut reaction that says “nope, this dog don’t hunt.” With a gut as ample as mine, it’s usually pretty reliable. I’ve discarded a lot of accounts because they don’t make sense or they are questionable on their face. As a result, I tend to ruminate a bit on each one before I decide to use it in a work.

Finally, it’s been my experience that no matter how hard I might try, I will never be able to tell these stories as well as the soldiers themselves. Consequently, whenever possible, I try to let the participants tell their own stories in their own words. That means being extremely careful in selecting the accounts and quotations to use. If it makes it into one of my works, you can pretty well conclude that it’s there because it passed the various tests set forth herein.

To conclude, it’s about experience, it’s about knowing when and how to sniff out BS, it’s about being able to evaluate and corroborate evidence, and it’s about being careful.

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I’m often asked about how I parse out sources for my writing projects, so I thought I would answer the question in a two-part series.

In this first part, I will address how I choose sources to use in my writing. Tomorrow, I will address what I do with those sources once they’ve been selected.

With that in mind there are a few general rules that apply to the selection of sources.

1. Primary sources are always preferable to secondary sources. I try to only use secondary sources for background material if I can help it. A good example is a biographical sketch of someone who plays a role in the story, such as those included in Ezra Warner’s Generals in Blue or Generals in Gray. I do this because I don’t want to be tainted by someone else’s interpretation of these events, and prefer to figure out what happened from the words of the participants.

2. The closer in time to the events described, the more dependable the source. Human memory is an imperfect thing, and the passage of time means that people’s perceptions and memories change, perhaps influenced by what others have written about the same events. Some of my very favorite sources are soldier letters published in hometown newspapers within a few days of the events described. These correspondents, usually writing under anonyms, knew that their friends and family would be reading their reports. Consequently, they tend to be very accurate accounts of things, written within a few days of the events described, while all is still fresh. The least reliable accounts are those written sixty and seventy years after the events and drawn entirely from memory.

3. I prefer letters and diaries to post-war memoirs. Again, letters and diaries are written closer in time to the events in question and tend to be more reliable. The leading repository for this type of material, which is unquestionably the starting point for this sort of research, is the United States Army Military History Institute at the Carlisle Barracks in Carlisle, PA. USAMHI has an immense collection of manuscript material, and is the best place to begin. The Library of Congress and many universities also have large collections of this type of material, and local historical societies can also be good sources.

4. The Official Records of War of the Rebellion, commonly referred to as the “OR’s”, are a compilation of 128 volumes of the official records, including correspondence, of the Union and Confederate armies. Although actually published more than twenty years after the war, these books represent a transcription of the actual records, and is THE starting place for all Civil War research. Usually written by the participants within days or weeks of the events described, these reports are crucial to understanding what happened. In addition, Broadfoot Publishing has published a 100 volume Supplement to the OR’s that contains additional material that should have been included in the OR’s but wasn’t. The problem with this set is that it is astronomically expensive, and most can’t afford it. I bought the first twelve volumes and canceled my subscription. The rest is not useful enough to me to make it worth my while. The original OR’s are available on CD-ROM. Broadfoot offers a CD-ROM version for the outrageous price of $600. I don’t recommend it. Another company publishes a version for $69.95, which is perfectly good (I use it myself).

5. Contemporary newspaper accounts can be very good, but keep in mind that the correspondents who wrote those reports often had agendas of their own, and these accounts can be unreliable.

6. Official governmental records not included in the OR’s–such as the service and pension records of soldiers who served, or the regimental books and records of those units that made up the armies–can be real treasure troves. Often, Medal of Honor files contain tremendous amounts of useful material. I spent years researching a new regimental history of the Sixth Pennsylvania Cavalry, which is nearly done. I have found any number of really useful things in the pension and service files of these soldiers that simply is not available anywhere else.

7. Veterans’ group records can be good sources, too. As an example, there was a group called the Military Order of the Loyal Legion of the United States. In order to belong, a veteran had to have been a commissioned officer for the Union. When the comrades, as they were called, died, their local chapters (called commanderies) published detailed obituaries of them that often contain useful information that’s not available elsewhere.

8. One of my very favorite sources is a veterans’ newspaper called The National Tribune, which published from the 1880’s to the 1920’s, when the name was changed to Stars and Stripes. The Tribune published tons of veterans’ accounts and is an invaluable but often underutilized source. Some of the accounts are very reliable and some are very unreliable. It all depends on what you’re looking for, or what you intend to use them for. However, the Tribune is hard to find–I only know of a couple of complete sets of it on microfilm–and it’s not indexed, so it can be cumbersome and frustrating to use. Old friend Rick Sauers is wrapping up the compilation of an index to the Trib that will make it much easier to use. The Philadelphia Weekly Times also published similar articles, as did the Richmond Times-Dispatch and the Charleston Mercury. These can be treasure troves, but be careful about their reliability.

This is how I find the material that makes up my work. Tomorrow, I will address the culling out process by which I determine what’s worth using and what isn’t.

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Our blogging community has a new member, Kevin Levin, a high school history teacher from Charlottesville, Virginia. Kevin has commented on some of the posts that I’ve made here. I’ve read Kevin’s initial posts, and enjoy his insights. I commend his blog to to those of you who appreciate introspective thought on the Civil War. Welcome aboard Kevin, and good luck with your blog.

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As the clocks tolled the arrival of the 11th hour of the 11th day of the 11th month of 1918, the guns finally fell silent. After more than four years of butchery, The Great War, The War to End All Wars, World War I, came to an end.

The anniversary of the end of the war was known as Armistice Day. However, it changed to Veterans’ Day in recognition of the sacrifices of the many men and women who have sacrificed to give us the country we have today. As you go about your business today, think of those brave men and women, and thank them for their sacrifices. Thank them for the country we have today.

A Canadian doctor named John McCrae, weary of the butchery of World War I, left a simple but eloquent tribute to those who gave the last full measure of their devotion.

IN FLANDERS FIELDS the poppies blow
Between the crosses row on row,
That mark our place; and in the sky
The larks, still bravely singing, fly
Scarce heard amid the guns below.

We are the Dead. Short days ago
We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow,
Loved and were loved, and now we lie
In Flanders fields.

Take up our quarrel with the foe:
To you from failing hands we throw
The torch; be yours to hold it high.
If ye break faith with us who die
We shall not sleep, though poppies grow
In Flanders fields.

I’ve always been an admirer of Lt. Wilfed Owen, who was the embodiment of the warrior-poet. Owen was a brlilliant Scots poet who served in the British army in World War I. He was killed in action a scant two weeks before the armistice, having been through inimaginable hell. With the war-weary eyes of one who had seen too much, Owen chronicled his time in the charnel houses of Europe. His most famous poem, “Dulce et Decorum Est” follows:

Bent double, like old beggars under sacks,
Knock-kneed, coughing like hags, we cursed through sludge,
Till on the haunting flares we turned our backs
And towards our distant rest began to trudge.
Men marched asleep. Many had lost their boots
But limped on, blood-shod. All went lame; all blind;
Drunk with fatigue; deaf even to the hoots
Of disappointed shells that dropped behind.

GAS! Gas! Quick, boys!– An ecstasy of fumbling,
Fitting the clumsy helmets just in time;
But someone still was yelling out and stumbling
And floundering like a man in fire or lime.–
Dim, through the misty panes and thick green light
As under a green sea, I saw him drowning.

In all my dreams, before my helpless sight,
He plunges at me, guttering, choking, drowning.

If in some smothering dreams you too could pace
Behind the wagon that we flung him in,
And watch the white eyes writhing in his face,
His hanging face, like a devil’s sick of sin;
If you could hear, at every jolt, the blood
Come gargling from the froth-corrupted lungs,
Obscene as cancer, bitter as the cud
Of vile, incurable sores on innocent tongues,–
My friend, you would not tell with such high zest
To children ardent for some desperate glory,
The old Lie: Dulce et decorum est
Pro patria mori.

Here’s another of my favorite Owen poems. In light of the war in Iraq, it seems especially appropriate today:

Anthem for Doomed Youth

What passing-bells for these who die as cattle?
Only the monstrous anger of the guns.
Only the stuttering rifles’ rapid rattle
Can patter out their hasty orisons.
No mockeries for them; no prayers nor bells,
Nor any voice of mourning save the choirs, —
The shrill, demented choirs of wailing shells;
And bugles calling for them from sad shires.

What candles may be held to speed them all?
Not in the hands of boys, but in their eyes
Shall shine the holy glimmers of goodbyes.
The pallor of girls’ brows shall be their pall;
Their flowers the tenderness of patient minds,
And each slow dusk a drawing-down of blinds.

To all who have sacrificed on my behalf, thank you for your sacrifices and for your service.

In memory of Staff Sgt. Morton L. Wittenberg (U.S. Army, WWII) and Staff Sgt. Joseph R. Pacitto, USMC (Panama, Grenada, Desert Storm). May you both rest in peace with the thanks of a grateful nation..

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Today, I’m going to wrap up this series on battlefield preservation. I hope that it hasn’t been too boring.

In my mind, the key to successful battlefield preservation is being pro-active instead of reactive. In other words, think ahead, plan ahead, and make the necessary arrangements to preserve the ground instead of panicky, crisis mode responses to threats.

Here’s an example.

Ohio has only one Civil War battlefield, at Buffington Island in Meigs County on the Ohio River. On July 19, 1863, Federal cavalry forces under Generals Judah, Hobson and Shackleford finally caught up with Morgan’s raiders, and a short but sharp engagement followed that led to more than half of Morgan’s command being captured. About 13,000 cavalrymen were engaged there, so it was a good sized action. The battlefield itself is largely pristine. The only changes are a handful of 20th Century houses, and an elementary school (which is now a community center that will house a museum exhibit on the battle). Meigs County, and in particular the area where the battle was fought, is a sleepy place, and the county is very poor.

A major portion of the battlefield has been owned by a sand and gravel company for decades. The company claims that the blend of sand, loam, and gravel there is unique and that there is no substitute parcel for this one. Consequently, the company has planned to turn a very significant portion of the battlefield into a very unsightly sand and gravel pit for decades. Lots of permits are required–from the Army Corps of Engineers, the Ohio Department of Natural Resources, etc. That process takes years.

In 1997 or so, we learned that the company had begun the process. I offered my legal services pro bono, and was involved in trying to stop it. We got a brief stay from the ODNR based purely on an emotional appeal, but the company eventually prevailed. All of the permits have been issued, and sooner or later–probably sooner than later–the battlefield will be forever destroyed. At the time, Bob Taft was running for governor of Ohio. Given his family history, I figured it was worth trying to get his support. His campaign office was in the same building as my office, so I made an appointment with one of his policy wonks. The guy politely heard me out, and then we never heard another word about it. Why? Apparently, the politics are such that jobs in a poor county are much more desirable than the preservation of a Civil War battlefield and the injection of whatever tourist dollars it might generate. Taft was not interested. I shouldn’t have been surprised, but I have to admit that I was.

Eventually, the final recourse available would have been an eminent domain proceeding to save the battlefield. Eminent domain falsl within the takings clause of the 5th Amendment of the U. S. Constitution, which says that the government cannot deprive a person of his or her property without paying them fair compensation for that property. Eminent domain proceedings can be very expensive, since they usually entail knock-down-drag out fights over the value of the property, and it requires taxpayer dollars to pay that compensation. Again, jobs are politically more desirable than preservation, and we couldn’t get anyone interested in pursuing that avenue either. With that, we were done. There was no other recourse left to us at that point. Given that the sand and gravel company has owned the land for decades, there’s nothing we can do about it.

The Ohio Historical Society owns 4 acres of the battlefield, and, to mollify some of the hue and cry, the sand and gravel company agreed to save 4o acres of the most heavily fought-over ground when the time comes. And that’s the end of it.

With a little bit of foresight by those in power, and the expenditure of what would have been a trivial sum of money in those days, this land could have been preserved forever. Instead, that shortsightedness will cost Ohio the legacy of its only Civil War battlefield. It’s a tragedy, but there is NOTHING that can be done at this point.

The moral of the story, and of this entire series of posts, is: Use common sense. Think ahead. Plan ahead. Make contingency plans. Get politicians on board to support preservation efforts. Work with developers, not against them. Be realistic and understand that you won’t save every parcel. Save those that are worthy of saving. Make wise use of limited preservation dollars, and get the maximum benefit for those dollars, even if it means that General Hossenfeffer’s historic outhouse gets bulldozed as a consequence.

And in so doing, you will help to save the legacy of our battlefields for generations yet to come.

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Today, I want to address the question of prioritizing. A couple of days ago, Drew Wagenhoffer made an especially prescient comment in response to one of the other posts in this series: “Also, I would prefer that money be spent on open spaces rather than buildings, which are outrageously expensive to “restore”. People seem to want to keep every little shack that was a general’s HQ during some battle or another. I always cringe when I see several million dollars being spent on restoring some old home because “Washington slept there” or some other thing.”

Drew jumped the gun on what I had intended to say in this post, so kudos to him for making a very valid point.

Everyone has their own priorities and their own opinions, and I respect that. However, given a choice between saving a single building that has some historical significance or using the same money to buy actual battlefield land, that’s a no-brainer in my book. I am, at heart, a pragmatist. Recognizing that you’re never going to be able to save every marginally significant piece of land–and that doing so is not necessarily in anyone’s best interests–means that picking and choosing one’s fights is the key. Only fight the fights that are worth fighting, is what I always tell my clients.

Basic laws of economics apply here. Supply and demand govern. Let’s start wtih the following assumptions: the amount of battlefield land available is finite. So is the amount of money available to be spent on preservation. Thus, it seems to me that simple cost-benefit analysis should govern the exercise. Is it, for instance, a better use of scarce resources to spend several million dollars on a parcel of land next to a battlefield that saw no fighting, but which was important staging ground that was used as a bivouac site, or is it better to use those same dollars to buy a house that General Hossenfeffer used as his headquarters for three hours? It seems to me that it’s a much better use of those scarce dollars to buy the land next to the battlefield to preserve it and to prevent commercial sprawl from creeping right up to the edge of the battlefield, than to preserve General Hossenfeffer’s outhouse. If you need an example of what I mean here, pay a visit to the Monocacy battlefield just outside Frederick, MD some time. A massive mall one one side of the road and an enormous strip shopping center on the other butt right up to the battlefield, a matter of a few yards from where Special Orders 191 were found in 1862. It’s scary.

Now, I fully understand that some folks won’t get this, that they think it’s more important to preserve the outhouse since General Hossenfeffer used it once. I respect that opinion, but it seems to me that with the basic laws of supply and demand governing these events, it makes much more sense to prioritize and to get the maximum effect possible for those scarce dollars. If that means that some marginally significant ground is lost on one battlefield to save truly significant ground at another battlefield, I can live with that and not feel badly about it. In my humble opinion, it’s far better to save as much ground as possible than it is to spend those scarce dollars on the place where General Hossenfeffer took a nap for an hour.

It’s all about common sense, folks. Use more of it, act like a reasonable, rational human being, and developers will be much more likely to want to work with you than to go running away from the stark raving loonies bound and determined to save that outhouse.

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