Moving forward: Sultana Disaster Museum in Marion, Ark., signs construction contract for a larger venue about 1865 Mississippi River tragedy

Current design for front of museum (Courtesy Sultana Disaster Museum)

Backers of a larger and more dynamic museum about the Sultana maritime disaster at the end of the Civil War have taken a major step, signing a $6.389 million contract this week for construction of the Marion, Ark., venue.

The contract with Zellner Construction of nearby Memphis, Tenn., involves renovating the 1939 high school gymnasium to repurpose it as a museum and to build an addition to the front of the museum for an auditorium and entry.

“We are elated we have finally signed a construction contract,” said John Fogleman, president of the Sultana Historical Preservation Society, which is leading the effort. “There were many who doubted that a new Sultana Disaster Museum would ever be built.”

Fogleman said he expects construction to perhaps begin in March, after anticipated approval by government agencies. Officials hope the new site will open in mid-2025, ideally around the time of the 160^th anniversary of the tragedy.

“We selected Zellner because of their excellent reputation, their course of work in the past with our architects and the fact they were the low bidder (of five),” he wrote in an email on Wednesday.

The exhibits will be bid separately. None have been as yet designed.

The overcrowded Sultana just hours before the explosion  (Library of Congress)

Gene Salecker, Sultana author, collector and museum supporter, said he believes the big attraction will be a mock-up of the forward part of the Sultana, which will include the boilers.

“Since the boilers were the main cause of the destruction of the Sultana, we are hoping to have a display on how the boilers worked and what went wrong,” he said, describing the overall museum experience as immersive. “We have tons of information and a great number of artifacts to put into each display

“We are hoping to walk people through the entire war/experience of the Sultana. People will walk through a section about the importance of the Mississippi in American history and the Civil War. We will have a display on soldiers in the war, on prisoners and on the prisoner exchange. The history of the Sultana will cover its construction, it's early life, it's importance of spreading the word of Lincoln's assassination, and then the overcrowding, the explosion, the rescues and the reunions.”

The disaster is currently remembered at a small museum a few blocks from the future site. Dreams for a larger facility germinated many years ago.

The city, close to where the side-wheeler Sultana exploded and caught fire in the Mississippi River, broke ground in 2022 for a museum that will honor soldiers who died in the disaster and residents who helped save others who were plunged into the river in late April 1865.

Carved comb made by Union POW in a Confederate prison (Gene Salecker)

About 1,200 passengers and crew perished. Hundreds of Federal soldiers, many recently freed from Confederate prisons, including Andersonville and Cahaba, were on their way home.

Museum officials say the exhibits will build off the full story of the Sultana with information about the importance of the river, the Confederate prisoner of war camps at Cahaba and Andersonville, the bribery and corruption that led to the overcrowding of the side-wheel steamboat, the explosion and fire, and the creation of the Sultana Survivors Association.

Fogleman and others have raised thus far donations, grants and pledges totaling $10.369 million. “We are still seeking money,” he said. The city of Marion has helped with fund-raising, including revenue from the Advertising and Promotion Committee to fund operating costs.

The society’s board added three new members, according to Fogleman, with the aim of having younger representatives and more women. They bring social media, marketing, banking and other skills, he said.

The story of the Sultana runs deep in the blood of two members of the Sultana society.

Fogleman’s great-grandfather, John Fogleman, after lashing two or three logs together, poled his way through the current of the Mississippi River and toward survivors. He plucked dozens of people -- mostly Federal soldiers -- from the chilly river. It’s possible his sons Leroy and Gustavus assisted.

Franklin Barton and LeRoy and Gustavus Fogleman (Courtesy of John Fogleman)

The present-day Fogleman’s and cousin Frank Barton share another great-great-grandfather, Franklin Hardin Barton, an officer with the 23^rd Arkansas Cavalry. He used a dugout canoe to reach survivors, many of whom were burned or scalded.

Frank Barton, treasurer of the Sultana Historical Society, told the Picket on Wednesday he is glad the Sultana story will “finally have a permanent venue that is befitting of this historical event and will honor those men and women that were aboard the Sultana that fateful night in April of 1865. Part of the Sultana story is how this country forgot those individuals and this new museum will be another step in correcting that part of the Sultana disaster story.”

This article will be updated

Previous Sultana coverage:

• Documentary, events mark 150th anniversary

• Will victim's journal and Bible become part of collection?

• Descendants drop flowers in memory of the lost

• Model captures every detail of Sultana
• Disaster took lives of those who had endured so much
• Siblings recall learning of disaster

Pennsylvania State Police want to know who dumped a replica Civil War revolver in the trash can at a Gettysburg Walmart. It's a 'legit firearm'

This weapon was found in a store trash can in Gettysburg (Photo: Pennsylvania State Police)

Some news outlets in Pennsylvania this week wrote that a Civil War revolver was found Tuesday by a Walmart employee in Gettysburg while emptying a trash can in the parking lot.

All of that is true – except for the fact that the weapon does not date to the war. It’s a replica made by an Italian company.

An incident report filed by a Pennsylvania State Police trooper described the gun as a Pietta 1851 Confederate Navy Revolver (the short report does not include the words Civil War).

Trooper Megan E. Frazer, a public information officer for the Harrisburg station, told the Picket in an email Friday that the unloaded firearm is believed to be a black powder-style .44-caliber revolver with a brass frame. She said the investigating officer did not believe the weapon to be authentic “based on machined markings and 2020 marked on the underside of the barrel," but called it a "legit firearm."

"It appeared to have been used," Frazer said.

Frazer said there were no leads in the investigation into how it came to be in a trash can in the city famous for the July 1863 Battle of Gettysburg, and whether it is tied to any Civil War venues or sites.

Jason Martz, spokesman for Gettysburg National Military Park, said nothing has been reported missing or stolen from its collections.

On its website, Pietta says the firm is “synonymous with the most faithful and refined reproductions of historical weapons and high quality hunting rifles.”

F.LII Pietta makes several versions of the Colt 1851 Navy revolver, one of the most famous firearms from the Civil War. They are listed as either Yank or Confederate, with .36-caliber and .44-caliber variations.

More Picket coverage

-- Gettysburg hopes Little Top will reopen in early July
-- Virginia's Henrico County buys farm that was scene of several Civil War events

Gettysburg hopes Little Round Top will reopen before 161st anniversary events in early July. The site has undergone improvements over the past two years.

A new retaining wall is built at the 91st Pennsylvania monument (GNMP)

Gettysburg National Military Park estimates Little Round Top will reopen to the public in late spring or early summer, nearly two years after a massive rehabilitation project began, according to a park spokesman.

The popular site closed on July 26, 2022, to the disappointment of visitors who planned trips but welcomed by others who lauded the project.

The hill is where Union forces fought off a furious Confederate assault on July 2, 1863, during the three-day battle in Pennsylvania.

Park officials have said they are addressing ongoing problems at the overcrowded site. They cited erosion, overwhelmed parking areas, poor accessibility and related safety hazards, and degraded vegetation.

“This project will also enhance the visitor experience with improved interpretive signage, new accessible trail alignments, and gathering areas. These improvements will allow visitors to better immerse themselves into the historic landscape that is essential to understanding the three-day Battle of Gettysburg,” a 2022 news release said. 

A park page on the project says the aim is to “reestablish, preserve, and protect the features that make up this segment of the battlefield landscape.” 

Some 164 feet above the Plum Run Valley to the west, the hill became the anchor of the Union’s left flank and a focal point of Confederate attacks on the afternoon of July 2. The 4^th,15^{th and 47th} Alabama regiments made a series of legendary assaults against the 20^th Maine.

“The (Maine) regiment’s sudden, desperate bayonet charge blunted the Confederate assault on Little Round Top and has been credited with saving Major General George Gordon Meade’s Army of the Potomac, winning the Battle of Gettysburg and setting the South on a long, irreversible path to defeat,” according to the American Battlefield Trust.

Wednesday’s update on social media indicated Little Round Top may be open in time for 161^st anniversary programs and events in early July. The Picket reached out to park spokesman Jason Martz..

"Maybe. That is our hope, but it's too soon to speculate," Martz said in an email.

Little Round Top seen from Plum Run Valley (Library of Congress)

Little Round Top traditionally is the top destination for park visitors, he said, followed by the visitor center and museum and Devil's Den.

When asked about archaeological investigations during the work, Martz said a lot of battle material was found, including “a few unique items, but nothing that would move the needle too much one way or the other. The archaeological process is long and drawn out and final details won't be available for quite some time.”

A Dyer artillery round was found in February 2022, with park officials saying then they believe a Confederate cannon fired at Federal position and mistakenly dropped them on friendly Texas regiments trying to navigate the difficult terrain.

Martz said officials have enough details to largely close the loop on that story and will provide an update in the future.

Virginia's Henrico County has bought a James River parcel rich with history. Now it will decide how to tell the story of the Civil War, enslaved people and colonial days

Varina plantation home, cannonballs in wall and Benjamin Butler (Henrico Co. and Library of Congress)

Bald eagles, ducks and geese routinely take flight near a weathered two-story brick home that sits on a sloping hill southeast of Richmond. The dwelling has a circle driveway on one side and a view of the James River on the other. Fields that have been tilled for generations lie just to the north and west.

For all its bucolic setting, Varina Farms, or Varina on the James, has another facet: history as deep and rich as the soil. The former plantation is considered the birthplace of Henrico County, which curves around Richmond and is home to 340,000 residents.

In the early 1600s, English settler John Rolfe, husband of indigenous Princess Pocahontas, discovered the soil and climate at the site were suited for growing mild tobacco, with the name Varina linked to a form of Spanish tobacco.

The Civil War came to Varina Farms about 250 years later, and the property was a scene of combat, prisoner exchanges and the headquarters of Union Maj. Gen. Benjamin Butler. Confederate cannonballs struck the 1853 Classic Revival home, and there are signs of those today.

At one point, Butler built a pontoon bridge to carry his men and supplies across the river to attack Richmond in 1864.

Property fronts the James River, 10 miles south of Richmond (Henrico County map)

With land preservation and public use in mind, Henrico County leaders recently purchased the property from the Stoneman family, which had been its guardian since the early 1900s. The total for two purchases, which includes the battle-scarred 1853 Classic Revival home, came to about $18.5 million. Interstate 295 slices through the farm.

“By acquiring this beautiful, vast and irreplaceable property, Henrico County is making a once-in-a-lifetime move to ensure that our history as a county, a commonwealth and a nation are preserved and that our precious, scenic riverfront will remain protected and accessible for generations to come,” said Board of Supervisors Chairman Tyrone E. Nelson.

County has ideas for site, but wants input from citizens

County officials will now begin the process of determining future use for the farm, known as Aiken’s Landing during the Civil War.

The possibilities are as broad as the view of the river, says Julian Charity, division director for history, heritage and natural resources in the county park system.

The home has not been occupied for at least a decade (Henrico County photo)

“We have a number of ideas, but we’re also interested in what the public would like to see out there,” Charity told the Picket in an email.

The possibilities include:

-- Archaeology across the site, including colonial days;

-- Restoration of the house and interpretation of each lower-floor room for different aspects of the plantation’s history;

-- A new Civil War museum, riverboat historic tours and archaeological excavations of the original Varina site;

-- A commemorative site for the enslaved persons who worked the fields and house for about 250 years. The family of Albert Aiken owned about 60 enslaved people on the eve of the Civil War, according to Charity. Officials have begun compiling a listing of known names;

-- A Native American interpretive site

-- Wetlands restoration with the James River Association, pollinator gardens and agriculture classes for county schools.

View of home from "land" side, just past farmland (Henrico County photo).

County officials said any opening of the property is at least a year away. There are no facilities available to the public at this time and there are no restrooms.

Marc Wagner, senior architectural historian for the state Department of Historic Resources, said the agency has advised the county on possible archaeology and how to interpret the dwelling. “We are hoping the county will invite us back out.”

A lot more of Varina's history lies below the surface

The Department of Historic Resources champions preservation statewide and has an online database of sites. It is familiar with Varina Farms and is standing by to assist Henrico County, said Mike Clem, the department’s eastern regional archaeologist.

According to Charity, archaeology surveys done in the 1970s and 1996 were all surface observations and collection.

(Marc Wagner, Va. Department of Historic Resources)

“One of the first things we would like to do is archaeology,” Charity said. “We are intending to pinpoint the locations of the early buildings (courthouse, glebe, parish, ordinary, etc.), Butler’s wharves, enslaved cabin sites, and anything listed in the vast histories.” This goes back to the early colonial period.

He says the site has been picked over during the years, so many historic items are no longer available.

“As archaeology is performed, we fully expect to recover hundreds of artifacts pertaining to the Civil War,” Charity said.

Plantation was a busy crossroads, troops site

Not long into the Civil War, Richmond became a prime objective for the Union army, and dozens of battles and skirmishes took place in Henrico and nearby counties.

Varina on the James served as an eastern depot for the August 1862 exchange of about 6,000 prisoners, according to a history in the state’s archives. A brick barn – about 400 yards from  the home – briefly held Union prisoners during the war. The barn was near a wharf used for the exchanges. (Some histories say the plantation was home to the first cotton mill in the South.)

Federal bridge crosses James River at Varina Landing (Library of Congress)

The farm was also used as a major crossing point for Union troops, according to the county.

In November 1863, the controversial Butler received command of the Department of Virginia and North Carolina, and the following May was in the field again, this time at the head of the new Army of the James.

His army spent months southeast of  heavily defended Richmond, unsuccessful in making significant gains, though he notched a victory at New Market Heights, northwest of Varina, in September 1864. Fourteen members of the U.S. Colored Troops were awarded the Medal of Honor for their valor.

Butler used Varina for his headquarters during part of 1864. According to one history, the general rode one day to inspect his camps.

“As he passed some ditches which he thought were filled with his own men, the Rebels fired upon him. They had reclaimed the land. Butler outran the Rebels and made it safely to the fort where he met Grant.”

Home was struck by Rebel cannonballs

The history says Butler built a log cabin for his headquarters near the home and used it until war’s end, having failed in his assault on Petersburg and being driven back by Confederate troops.

“The dwelling still shows the damage by cannon balls, fired by the Confederate batteries, from the Chesterfield side near Dutch Gap,” according to a 1937 report on the plantation. (Photo of damaged area, Henrico County)

The brick west wall of the home today is pocked with small craters made by the artillery rounds.

Wagner said: “You can tell the cannon balls are cemented into the damaged brick.  On site we wondered if that was done for effect by later owners.  Would the cannon fire have hit the wall and lodged in or just bounced out -- possibly both happened?”

Charity says officials believe the round shots in the wall replaced original cannonballs removed in the 1960s.

“We do not believe that the cannonballs are modern, but we believe that they are replacements. More than likely, leftover cannonballs found on the property from Butler’s time there,” he said.

The Union pontoon bridge was later removed, but different references mention remnants still on or in the James River, according to Charity.

None of the other buildings of the time, other than the 1853 home and its kitchen outbuilding, along with remnants of the barn, are still standing, said Charity.

Cannonballs in the west wall (Marc Wagner (Va. Dept. of Historic Resources)

Home was modernized, but still has original elements

For fans of antebellum homes, the Aiken home just about has it all.

The interior has a variety of decorative elements, according to a 1976 nomination form for the home’s placement on the National Register of Historic Places.

The form says of the dwelling:

“The dwelling house is a two-story, common-bond brick structure connected by a long hyphen to a kitchen at the east and was built in 1853. It is five bays long with six-over-six sash and white wooden sills and lintels, except on the ground story of the river front where all of the window openings have French doors set into them. A one-story, decastyle Ionic porch, rebuilt after a 1941 tornado, stretches the length of the river front and is returned halfway along the west end. A one-story tetrastyle Ionic portico shelters the land front. “

Civil War photo shows flat roof, renovations included taller chimneys (Va. Dept. of Historic Resources)

The home is showing its age, though county officials say the Stonemans did a good job maintaining it and the property. No one has lived in the house for at least 10 years, and the electrical has not been updated since the 1970s.

“We have some work to do, but I’ve definitely seen structures in far worse condition,” said Charity.

Wagner with the state DHR said the house was updated in the early 20^th century so the interior reflects a lot of that period. “The roof blew off the house during a tornado at one point so the whole roof area was rebuilt.”

He said the house appears to have undergone a substantial remodeling a little more than a 100 years ago.

One of the rooms at the old Varina home (Marc Wagner, Va. Dept. of Historic Resources)

“This was the period when farms got upgraded all over Virginia. Farming became more prosperous operations with the growth of cities, RR (railroads) and improved scientific farming methods -- and the owners would often upgrade these old plantations with modern bathrooms and kitchens.”

Parts of Varina’s main house interior date back to the 1850s, especially the room plan and central hall circulation. All of the brickwork, and some of the exterior trim is from the 1850s. The porches have been rebuilt over time in the same 1850s Greek Revival style, Wagner said.

“The kitchen interior is all modern,” he told the Picket. “It likely housed 5-10 enslaved persons (a guess) and had a large cooking space. It is rare to find the covered connected kitchen to house structure, original to the design -- the only one left in Henrico that is pre-1860. You can see in later years that a new entrance was added to the kitchen and the small upstairs window. The new entrance on the kitchen signals a difference use of the kitchen building, as just residential space.”

(Marc Wagner, Virginia Dept. of HIstoric Resources)

Charity said the county plans to move forward on preservation talks and work soon.

“We’ve gone through the general assessment phase where we’ve identified priorities (electrical, windows, plumbing, etc.), now we are in the contractor estimation phase. We have a number of contractors under contract (due to the other historic properties we manage), and are getting more information on exactly how to proceed.” (Aerial view of Varina, below, Henrico County)

Henrico County owns other Civil War-related properties, including portions of Malvern Hill, New Market Heights, Deep Bottom and Savage’s Station battlefields.

It is working with a consortium of groups and governments to build a bike/walking trail through the New Market Heights property to a Civil War site and one to Four Mile Creek, from the Revolutionary War.

The New Market Heights site has been master planned for a large passive park site, but it has not yet come to fruition.

Brace yourself as we update you on U.S.S. Monitor mystery maker's mark and explain how two rods stabilized ironclad's remarkable revolving turret

Braces under, near guns in recovered turret (top); rendering of them with crew (MMP, Andy Hall)

The 600-page “Drawings of the U.S.S. Monitor, published in 1985, depicts the venerable Civil War ironclad from practically every angle. Scores of sketches demonstrate the exacting work of the draftsmen – with some components drawn to the inch.

“To the men who had the imagination, knowledge and skill to produce these drawings and the Monitor,” reads the dedication in the volume, written by Ernest W. Peterkin for the North Carolina and federal governments.

I continue to marvel at the design and engineering skills of those who made the vessel that changed naval warfare in a single battle with the CSS Virginia in March 1862. My recent foray into learning a bit more about the vessel’s circular, ingenious turret – and its supporting braces -- put me back in touch with experts on Monitor.

As I further studied the turret after communicating with them – I had an amusing observation.

A drawing (below) at the top of the publication – “transverse section through turret” -- features a cross-section of Monitor, with the turret resting on top of a spindle.

Oh my, I thought. The turret and rod combined look like a child’s spinning top!

Transverse section through turret shows spindle beneath (Drawings of the Monitor)

The revolving turret was no toy, however. It housed two XI-inch Dahlgren guns that could smash both ship and man. But to make the setup work, designer John Ericsson had to overcome challenges with the turret, dubbed a “cheesebox on a raft.”

“It was enormously heavy … (and) was designed to be turned by machinery rather than by hand,” Civil War naval expert Andy Hall told me in a recent email.

“To improve this efficiency, Ericsson recognized that it was necessary to relieve part of the weight of the turret on the rollers around its perimeter by ‘jacking up’ the turret a bit, temporarily placing much of its weight on its central vertical spindle. To prevent the turret structure from sagging, Ericsson included diagonal braces from the central roof beam to the base forward, aft and on either side of the turret that could be adjusted using enormous turnbuckles.”

Aft diagonal brace with ULSTER, highlighted at right, click to enlarge (Courtesy Mariners' Museum and Park)

Maker's mark 'Ulster' leaves questions

The two diagonal support braces (forward and aft) inside the turret have been of interest to me following the 2017 announcement by The Mariners’ Museum and Park in Newport News, Va., that Monitor conservators removing corrosion from the aft brace uncovered the word “ULSTER.” It’s the first time a maker’s mark was found in the turret.

Officials theorized the two wrought-iron braces – which have undergone conservation since 2016 -- were produced by Ulster Iron Works in Saugerties and added to the turret interior. The scenic city along the Hudson River is about 100 miles north of New York City, where Monitor was assembled in late 1861 and early 1862.

The company, which operated from 1827 to 1888 and took advantage of iron deposits in the area, was a Navy contractor.

Cannon damage on USS Monitor after clash with Virginia (Library of Congress)

“While this firm was never mentioned as a supplier during the Monitor’s construction at Continental Iron Works, it is now believed that Ulster provided materials for modifications to the ship while it was undergoing sea trials at the Brooklyn Navy Yard,” says the museum, which houses the USS Monitor Center, home to artifacts and items still being conserved after they were recovered off Cape Hatteras, N.C., more than two decades ago.

I have been mesmerized since the announcement by the mystery of the Ulster mark.

I reached out last month to Will Hoffman, Monitor project manager, to see whether conservators have since confirmed any link between the vessel and Ulster Iron Works.

The short answer: No.

Hoffman has cited papers from Ulster Iron Works in the collection of William L. Clements Library at the University of Michigan in Ann Arbor.

A summary of the collection includes this line: “Among the factors that contributed to the success of the Ulster Iron Works was the ability of the owners of the corporation to arrange for government contracts, especially contracts with the Navy, for providing iron products for use in rockets, ships, and other materials.” (At left, the forward and aft braces, courtesy of Mariners' Museum and Park.)

I reached out to the library to ask whether Ulster Iron Works records make specific mention of Monitor.

Terese Murphy, head of reader services, says a bound volume has entries through 1863 – a year after Monitor was lost in a storm.

Murphy wasn’t able to find mention of Monitor, but kindly sent me photos of the pages that would have mentioned the ironclad. I wasn’t able to make all the writing, but I, too, didn’t see the Monitor in the notes – many descriptions of technology and project summaries. It is possible that the names of the vessels for projects were not inscribed. The descriptions are very technical.

The manufacturer, which drew workers from as far away as England and Wales, was known for using European technology. A process called “double puddling” could produce appreciable amounts of high-grade bar iron.

1862 page from volume on Ulster Iron Works (Courtesy Clements Library, U. of Michigan)

Hoffman says, despite some research by his staff, he has not learned much more.

“It kind of went dead after that,” he says of the search for the Ulster connection. “We know these braces are additions.” They are not shown in original blueprints.

I reached back out to Audrey Klinkenberg, Saugerties town historian, about whether anyone there have come across any mention of the USS Monitor and Ulster Iron Works since the 2017 news. She said no.

A delicate balancing act during battle

With the Ulster mystery still out there, I asked Hoffman and Hall, who writes the Dead Confederates blog, about the six braces that reinforced the turret. (BTW, it’s possible the forward diagonal supporting brace also had an ULSTER mark and it was eaten by corrosion or is still covered.)

The diagonal braces were installed near the two guns in a claustrophobic space manned by an executive officer and 16 sailors. Like Hall, Hoffman says the 160-ton turret had a revolutionary design for the time.

 Braces highlighted, “U.S.S. Monitor: The Ship that Launched a Modern Navy” by Edward Miller

“The turret is like a suspension bridge,” with the diagonal braces providing balance to “keep it from tipping while firing the gun,” the lead conservator told me. One crew fired a Dahlgren while the other reloaded the second.

Hall says turnbuckles on the braces were a particular benefit at close quarters, as in the Monitor-Virginia battle in Hampton Roads.

“The crew in the turret adopted the practice of firing as the gun muzzles rotated past the target, rather than trying to rotate the turret, lock it in place, and then fire,” he says.

“With both ships maneuvering for advantage, almost at point-blank range, keeping Monitor’s turret moving during the action was essential. The officer commanding in Monitor’s turret, Samuel Dana Greene, described this as the turret’s ‘whirligig motion.’”

In a post on Dead Confederates, Hall describes the turret as “a very crowded and chaotic place.”

Clevis used in aft diagonal support brace (Courtesy The Mariners' Museum and Park)

The “Ulster” brace and its mate have undergone extensive conservation.

Hoffman says in 2016 both got their first round of dry-ice cleaning, followed by another round in 2018, and the aft “Ulster” braces was disassembled. Conservation of its aft clevis (fastener) was completed in 2019. Last year, the forward brace and remaining after-brace components received additional cleaning.

Unroll the turret for cleaning, or leave as is?

The turret currently rests on a lower support pad in a giant Mariners’ Museum and Park tank where it has undergone conservation for two decades.

The guns and braces have been treated in separate areas.

More than 50 maker’s marks associated with Monitor have been noticed over the years, says Hoffman. Roman numerals were spotted on the turret armor plates (the roof is upside down in the tank) and there are Roman numerals on sockets of the canopy stanchion.

The next big thing will be the full cleaning of the turret – but that is still a couple years off. (At right, dry-ice cleaning. Courtesy of Mariners' Museum and Park)

 And there are two considerations:

1. Should the turret be left in its current ring configuration for cleaning? While unrolling the plating might allow conservators to get into its curved layers, replacing rivets afterward may be impossible. Hoffman says the decision was to keep it as is.

2. The team has studied ways to treat wrought iron, which is forged and several inches deep. The turret is too big to clean by hand, so the likely scenario is dry ice, going from solid to gas. The whole idea is to remove ocean salt (chlorides) from the metal, to stem further corrosion.

The lab is working on a plan for the turret treatment, which could take up to eight months.

The turret will be turned right-side up, and the roof taken apart. “There are potentially artifacts still to be found” in the roof because some may be captured in concretion, according to Hoffman. (The remains of two sailors and numerous artifacts were found in the turret.)

Using scaffolding, conservators will clean the ring.

Turret bracing goes down in history, literally

Monitor and Virginia fought to a tactical draw at the 1862 Battle of Hampton Roads.

Hall, author of “Civil War Blockade Running on the Texas Coast,” says Monitor earned the strategic victory because the Confederate ironclad never ventured out again to attack the U.S. fleet.

“The U.S. Navy immediately contracted for new monitors, with several classes of the type entering service before the war ended in 1865. Each new class of monitor was built on the hard-won lessons of those before, with incremental technical improvements in armament, machinery and armor,” he says. (At left, part of the aft diagonal brace assembly. Courtesy of Mariners' Museum and Park)

Monitor sank in the Atlantic storm on Dec. 31, 1862, with the loss of 16 lives.

“The value of Ericsson’s bracing to keep the iron cylinder of the turret rigid proved to be beneficial to history as well, as it ensured that when Monitor capsized and sank in December 1862 after only a few months’ service, the turret fell off the ship but remained intact on the sea floor, from where it would be recovered in one piece in 2002,” says Hall.

Man up: At Andersonville and other Civil War prisons, captives resisted and coped in a number of ways. They asserted a new form of masculinity

Desperate to be free: Union prisoners tunneling (National Park Service)

Sgt. Maj. Robert H. Kellogg and his comrades in the 16^th Connecticut Infantry, like generations of American soldiers before them, believed the only manly death in war should occur on the battlefield.

But they would find their experience to be different as the Civil War wore on. The green regiment, chopped up at Antietam in September 1862, was captured in only its second engagement 19 months later in Plymouth, N.C.

Gone were the ideas of battlefield victories and fame. Kellogg realized their world had been turned upside down when the regiment surrendered in April 1864.

“On the morning of (April) 21st we awoke to new experiences. Instead of the calls to which we had -been wont to listen, and the labor we had been accustomed to perform, we were but passive beings, subject to the will of a conqueror,” Kellogg wrote in “Life and Death in Rebel Prisons,” published in March 1865 near war’s end.

The soldier could not have predicted the extreme privation and horror he would witness and endure at Andersonville prison in Georgia. He provided colorful details in his book, considered one of the best personal accounts about life and death at Andersonville.

Various photographs of Robert H. Kellogg (Museum of Connecticut History)

What Kellogg and soldiers from both sides experienced at prisons contributed to a change in the perception of 19^th-century masculinity, according to many scholars, including conflict archaeologist Ryan K. McNutt.

As McNutt pointed out in a paper and a lecture in November at Andersonville National Historic Site near Americus, the Victorian ideal of manliness was courage through sacrifice and action – a good death on the battlefield, should it come to that.

“The POW experience was the direct antithesis of this ideal: Capture was socially seen the same as surrender,” wrote McNutt (the men of the 16^th Connecticut said it was not their decision to surrender). “And the wartime experience of POWs in the American Civil War was passive, inactive – waiting. For exchange, for parole.”

The talk by the assistant professor of anthropology at Georgia Southern was titled “But Passive Beings, Subject to the Will of a Conquerer,” pulling the line from Kellogg’s book.

(At left, Father Peter Whalen prays for prisoners, Thomas O'Dea sketch, NPS)

As it turned out, men confined with Kellogg were not all that passive, McNutt told the November audience in the park visitor center. They resisted in a variety of ways, trying to survive while buttressing their sense of manliness.

Tries were usually futile. But they dreamed of escape

McNutt spoke about resistance at both Andersonville (Camp Sumter) and Camp Lawton, another Confederate prison site in Georgia. McNutt directs the GSU archaeological project at the latter site

Andersonville is the emblem of POW suffering at Union and Confederate camps during the Civil War. Of 45,000 men held there, 13,000 Union service members succumbed to horrible conditions. Rather than a quick battlefield death by a bullet or artillery round, they faced death on an hourly or daily occurrence. It could come at any time.

Themes of heroism through endurance, martyrdom and stoicism arose, McNutt argues.

Soldiers engaged in tunneling, trickery and barter with guards. They endured beatings and incidents of cruel treatment – all while trying to stand tall amid the misery.

“Attempting is just as important as being successful,” McNutt said of defiant acts. More than 80 tunnels were found at Andersonville. Only 30-40 men successfully escaped the prison, which held about 45,000 soldiers over its 13 months.

But that did not stop them from trying.

A National Park Service article about escape attempts includes a paragraph that gets at what McNutt and others have studied. By being taken captive, prisoners had to find other ways to “prove oneself” and disprove any notions of cowardice.

“As a result, many prisoners faced the choice of either returning home after the war to be received as failures, or to attempt a dangerous escape. Those prisoners at Andersonville and elsewhere who never successfully escaped would often invent escapes or escape attempts in order to validate themselves in the eyes of their society,” the NPS says. (At right, Thomas O'Dea drawing of escape attempts at Camp Sumter)

'Can this be hell?

Kellogg was 20 years old when he passed through the gates of Andersonville into the chaos and suffering.

"As we entered the place, a spectacle met our eyes that almost froze our blood with horror…before us were forms that had once been active and erect -- stalwart men, now nothing but mere walking skeletons, covered with filth and vermin…Many of our men exclaimed with earnestness, 'Can this be hell?'" the sergeant wrote

The soldier survived Andersonville and was transferred after a few months to  prisons in South Carolina paroled in November 1864. He was a changed man.

Robert Kellogg (right) with Oscar Wiel (Museum of Connecticut History)

Kellogg tried to resume his career path as a druggist but found himself disconnected and isolated, according to an article in Zocalo Public Square. When a local deacon died, he wrote in his diary that he felt numb: “Death seems to have lost its solemnity in me since ‘Andersonville.’”

He later moved to Ohio and published his book. Kellogg worked for years to ensure “thousands of brave men” were not forgotten. He died in 1932. The Connecticut Historical Society has his diaries, letters to his parents and military service records, among other items.

The Museum of Connecticut History in Hartford contains numerous photographs of Kellogg and some information about this life. (Special projects curator Christine Pittsley was helpful while I researched this post.)

One of only a handful of photographs of Andersonville (National Park Service)

Mary Gorman, author of a book about the Andersonville Raiders and a member of the Descendants of Andersonville Prison Facebook page, says Kellogg’s is probably the best Andersonville memoir, drawing from his vivid diary.

“If you want to get the truest picture of Andersonville, stick mostly with diaries and the memoirs published within the first 5 years” after the war, Gorman wrote when I asked followers of the Facebook page about Kellogg.

McNutt concluded his paper outlining the impact of post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD) suffered by Civil War prisoners.

“The restructuring of masculine identities, the resistance both physical and symbolic, the creation of crafts and games, such as chess pieces found under the brick oven at Lawton, all served to combat the depression and mental effects of long confinement, a final deadly symptom of structural violence of the internment system, through action and engagement,” he wrote.

“Acts of resistance, effective or ineffective, were acts of survival.”