(Photos Kennesaw Mountain National Battlefield Park)
Kennesaw Mountain National Battlefield Park -- nearing the end of a safety improvement
project --- has officially reopened Mountain Road with marked lanes for
walking and bicycling. A shuttle van will continue to take riders to the summit.
No private
vehicles are allowed on the 1.6-mile paved road to the top of the Civil War site
northwest of Atlanta. For a time, there will continued education of visitors
about the changes.
“We know new
markings can take a little getting used to, so thanks in advance for your
patience and for looking out for fellow visitors,” the park said Wednesday about the nine-month project.
Ray Hamel, chief of interpretation, said Thursday there
will be increased patrols to help ensure everyone is following the new
regulations:
--
Pedestrians can walk only in a designated lane, keeping left on the way up,
right on the way down. “We’re aware of (social media) comments about
pedestrians spreading out across the road, and we’ll continue addressing that
through both education and enforcement,” Hamel told the Picket in an email.
-- Cyclists
may use the road seven days a week, within the designated hours and marked lane.
For summer, that is 7:30 a.m.-9:30 a.m. and 4:30 p.m.-8:30 p.m.; for winter, 7:30
a.m.-9:30 a.m. and 4:30 p.m.-6:30 p.m.
-- The summit
shuttle bus runs daily 10 a.m.-4:30 p.m. There is no charge to ride beyond the
standard park entrance fee. It has a powered wheelchair lift, and the van can
accommodate riders using wheelchairs.
-- Private
vehicles are not permitted. “There is a gate at the bottom of the road that
will prevent unauthorized vehicle access. Since reopening, we’ve had very few
incidents of private vehicles getting through, and when it happens, we respond
quickly,” said Hamel.
Superintendent
Patrick Gamman said a sidewalk to the Mountain Road bus turnaround should be
completed by next week. A soft opening for Mountain Road was held Tuesday, he told
the Picket.
Park officials say Mountain Road had seen increased
traffic incidents and medical emergencies before
work began late last year. (At left, Picket photo from before lane striping)
While cars, when not attended
to properly, are the most inherently dangerous of the three modes of
transportation, pedestrians and bicyclists often have close calls and
incidents. That’s why each bicyclists and pedestrians will now be in separate lanes.
As the
surrounding area has continued to grow, the park has become one of the last
remaining greenspaces in the metro Atlanta region. That growth has brought
challenges in accommodating an increasingly recreation‑centered visitor base,
park officials said.
“Following an
increase in near misses and accidents, the new design is intended to facilitate
safer accessibility for pedestrians, cyclists, and runners, while better
supporting the park’s evolving role in the community,” said Hamel.
Some
commenters on social media lament restricted hours for bicyclists and the end
to auto travel to the top.
For those who
do venture up, you get great views
of the skyline and buildings below as you travel the winding road. Many visitors undertake the popular walkup trail. (For the
curious, the summit is 1,808 feet above sea level.)
A few signs along the road indicate Confederate cannon and
defensive positions from June 1864.
There’s a few for Maj. Gen. Edward Walthall’s division,
namely the Quarles and Reynolds brigades. At the top while visiting
in January, I used a marker to match views of Marietta and Atlanta and saw one
listing 14 Georgia generals who fought for the Rebel army at Kennesaw Mountain.
A marker provides details on what can be scene from near the summit (Picket photos)
And above that is a cool stretch of emplaced cannons
mimicking the Confederate positions.
The park
thanked visitors for their understanding.
“Visitor reactions have been generally positive,” said Hamel. “Patrons have
adjusted smoothly to the changes, and we’ve heard appreciation for the improved
flow and safety features.”
Bruce Paulson (left), his son Bernie, center, and Bruce's brother, Bernie, at right)
Bernie and
Bruce Paulson were born to work with their hands. As teens, the Wisconsin twins
invented a mechanized bean picker, and an advertisement claimed with enthusiasm
that it could outwork 100 laborers.
The lads made other farm products, but their hearts – and hands – eventually focused on
full-time production of artillery ammunition, gun carriages and parts for
reenactors and government-operated parks.
It was a
great fit, given they had been fascinated by the Civil War since childhood.
“We would
make toy guns out of wood and arm all the kids … and play in the neighborhood,”
Bruce said of their years in Clayton, Wisc.
Making huge
guns kept Paulson Brothers Ordnance Corporation busy for decades. But now, sadly, the business in Clear Lake will
be largely shutting down. It’s the proverbial end of an era.
Bernie, 85, died last month, of a likely heart attack, family
members say.
“Bernie
always said he would die at PBO. That’s pretty much what he did,” said his
nephew Bernie. (The twins named
their sons after each other).
Now, Bruce is
navigating life without a sibling he worked with his whole life. “I knew him
like I know myself.” While Bernie came into the business nearly every day,
Bruce had slowed down a bit.
He is ready
to retire.
“We are still
selling online. I am trying to sell off a lot of the inventory, if I can,” Bruce
told the Picket in a recent phone call. Bruce’s son will continue to make
ammunition and use the company website.
The identical siblings -- who dressed in matching green work clothes -- were renowned in the
field for their craftsmanship and attention to detail.
Exterior of PBO in Clear Lake, Wisc. (Courtesy Bernie Paulson)
I spoke with Bernie in 2024 after the U.S. Army
turned to experts when an unusual artillery shell – believed at
first to possibly date to the Civil War -- was found on a training range
at Fort McCoy, Wis. It
turned out to be a replica made and fired by the Paulson brothers decades ago.
Thomas Bailey, who operates Historical Ordnance Works in
Woodstock, Ga., participated years ago in Midwest gun firings with the Paulsons. Some might say his company is a competitor of PBO, but Bailey calls it a “working partner relationship.”
Bailey drove to Wisconsin last week to reminisce with the
Paulson family and purchase a wagon and gun carriage parts.
A few artillery
pieces sit in front of the one-story facility not far from where Bernie lived.
Their operation is about an hour east of Minnesota’s Twin Cities. (At right, a traveling forge in the facility, courtesy Bernie Paulson)
Bailey, 69, who
was born in Pittsburgh during the heyday of American steel, said the restoration work requires
blacksmith, carpentry and painting skills.
Many of his
cannon barrels and carriages are made for the National Park Service, including
the Vicksburg and Shiloh sites. “The reenactor segment is pretty much dying
off,” he added.
Bailey said a
tool and die maker from Toledo, Ohio, provided services for him for about 15
years.
He mentioned
the craftsman in a way that evokes the work of the Paulson brothers.
“How do you
replace somebody like that? You don’t. When we die off, a lot of skills will go
away.”
Zinc in shell fired at Army fort provided a big clue
Stephen Osman, retired site manager of Historic
Fort Snelling in Minneapolis, was among those contacted
by the Army after the July 2024 mystery find at Fort McCoy. Could this be an
authentic Civil War shell, as first believed? That seemed unlikely since the
fort began operations in 1909.
The shell found at a Wisconsin training range (Claudia Neve/U.S. Army) and Bruce and Bernie (right) Paulson on the set of "The Blue and the Gray" miniseries in 1981 (Courtesy Stephen Osman)
“There was no Civil War battle around here, no training from
that era, so it left us wondering: how did it get here?” said garrison
archaeologist Ryan Howell, according to an Army news release.
Osman took a look at the photos and determined the round was
non-ferrous and – most importantly – was made by the Paulson brothers and fired
by them at Fort McCoy, back when the Army allowed certain groups to use the
site.
The siblings were known for using zinc, an element used postwar.
Two years
ago, while working on that post, I contacted Osman, who has it turned out had been pards with Bernie and
Bruce Paulson for 50 years. They traveled in the 1970s to historic sites around
the country, setting off cannons and having a good time along the way.
“They’re just characters. I spent a lot of time with them,”
said Osman, who served with the twins in the First Minnesota Volunteer
Infantry reenactment group.
He described them as exuberant and a force of nature, barging
into a museum or military site with a host of questions. (Bruce, at left, and Bernie at their shop. Courtesy Bruce's son Bernie)
Their inquisitiveness,
creativity and resolve made them leaders in the field of replica artillery,
according to observers. Bernie was the more garrulous of the pair.
A relative said he will be remembered for his passion for history and craftsmanship. "He also love the excitement of shooting cannons at many different sites and sharing this unique hobby with family and friends," Carrie Paulson wrote on Facebook.
'There has to be absolute discipline'
The replica 10-pounder shell fired at Fort McCoy was an early
prototype when the Paulsons were still figuring out how to make quality
reproduction weapons. The shell either never made firm impact or the fuse
popped out upon landing.
Bernie, then 83, told the Picket he and Bruce were making
these in the 1970s and before they found drawings that helped them improve design
and construction.
“You talk about crude,” he said of their fuses in the early
days.
The Paulsons went to the West Point foundry and
a New York library to dig deep into Civil War artillery, including the work
of Alfred Mordecai and a muzzle-loading cannon and ammunition created by 19th-century
inventor Robert Parrott.
The important thing, Bailey recently said, is to know what
you are doing and be safe -- attributes he claims the Paulsons had.
“They didn’t
just build the gun carriages. They were historians. That is part of it. If you
have never seen an original carriage, what do you do?”
Making
artillery components and firing pieces requires common sense and a devotion to
safety.
A Paulson mortar being set up for Fort Sumter 150th event (Picket photo)
Bruce Paulson
said he and Bernie had a perfect safety record when firing on ranges. Before
9/11, some military installations allowed trained outsiders to use the ranges,
often to teach new soldiers about the evolution of artillery.
At those ranges, unlike public events, crews could fire live
rounds.
“Follow the
manual. When you are operating a cannon, go by the manual,” said Bruce. “Count
off. Each man has a responsibility to do the job. There has to be absolute
discipline … by doing that, you will be safe.”
Twins were fixtures in the community
Bernie Paulson is being remembered for his outgoing and
unforgettable personality.
“They did
everything together. I worked for them a few years,” said his nephew Bernie, 60,
who does maintenance for an area school district. “They were like a married
couple. They would get in their arguments. Five minutes later, it was like it
never happened.”
Bruce recalls
the brothers starting three businesses. They worked at farm equipment makers Pixall
and Oxbo before working full time at PBO. (Newspaper ad about their green bean picker, left)
“I am
generally the guy who takes care of the book work, the purchase orders and
paying the bills.” Bernie was more of the online guy.
“That is what I am
learning to do right now,” said Bruce.
He said the long-term goal is to sell their building once
the inventory is gone. That includes a traveling forge, caisson, 20-pounder
Parrott, a Rodman and more weapons and parts. All the cannon tubes are
original.
“If you happened to visit the PBO shop
you needed to be prepared to be there for several hours,” says Bernie's obituary.
The twins served as the “chain gang” for
many Clear Lake football games with Bernie manning the down marker, the obit
says. “They also traveled to California to be the cannon team experts on the TV
show “Junkyard Wars.”
Bernie S. Paulson is survived by his
wife, Heidi, son, Bruce (Annie), and grandson, Willie.
A celebration of his life is set for
Oct. 3 at the Barn Again event center in Clayton.
Much has been
written about Union Maj. Gen. William T. Sherman’s "hard war" in Georgia, and
the debate over the accompanying destruction continues today. Did he focus
almost completely on military targets, or was civilian property fair game, too?
There was no
ambiguity when it came to textile mills and factories around Atlanta that
supplied the Confederacy. “This whole region was devoted to manufactories, but
I will destroy every one of them,” Sherman wrote to a subordinate the same week
cavalry units burned textile mills in Roswell and at New Manchester in Douglas
County, about 35 miles to the southwest.
The
impressive ruins of the New Manchester mill today are the prime attraction at
Sweetwater Creek State Parknear Lithia Springs. I recently asked interpretive ranger Adrian Fox to
detail its operation and the fate of the nearly 200 men, women and children there,
and the tough choice they had to make.
This is among the records kept by Adrian Fox at Sweetwater Creek State Park (Picket photo, click to enlarge)
But let’s
start with the Roswell mills, which were destroyed first, on July 6, 1864.
Sherman wrote
he wanted 400 Roswell workers to be charged with treason, given the Ivy Woolen
Mill was flying a French flag when Federal troopers rode by. The ruse was meant
to show the mill was not subject to seizure or destruction. It failed.
From the Northern perspective, the workers were American
citizens in open rebellion. Southerners said the women were eking out a living
as menfolk defended their homeland.
Click to enlarge Sherman correspondence in Official Records about the mill workers
On July 7, Sherman
wrote to Brig. Gen. Kenner Garrard about the Roswell employees, who had been
making material for uniforms:
“I repeat my
orders that you arrest all people, male and female, connected with those
factories, no matter what the clamor, and let them foot it, under guard, to
Marietta, whence I will send them by cars to the North...The poor women will
make a howl. Let them take along their children and clothing, providing they
have the means of hauling or you can spare them. We will retain them until they
can reach a country where they can live in peace and security.”
The prisoners
were placed in the Georgia Military Institute while they awaited trains. There
would be no trials, so no one actually was formally accused and convicted of treason.
New
Manchester, then the tallest building in the region, was burned on July 9. It manufactured
muslin and osnaburg, a fabric
lighter than canvas, for the Rebel army.
Fox said the historic site is “so instinctively human.”
This for a
time was a thriving company town. But as conditions worsened and the war ground
on, there was always the threat of homes being looted by desperate families who
lived nearby.
A 1932
article (below, click to enlarge) in The Atlanta Journal newspaper described the memories of S.H. Causey,
a worker at New Manchester:
“Shortly
after the burning of the mill, Mr. Causey recalls, the Federal officers
assembled the Sweetwater people and announced they were going to be allowed to
take their choice between two courses. One was that they would be paroled upon
signing an agreement that they would not again engage in the occupation of
making cloth for the Confederacy, although they might remain where they were or
find homes elsewhere on southern soil. The other choice was that they should be
furnished free transportation to some point beyond the Ohio River, behind the
Federal lines, and there given their freedom. Most of them chose the latter
course, since under the circumstances it offered them the only means of earning
a livelihood.”
Some of the
workers had highly prized skills. The mill was in ruins and Atlanta was about
to fall. As Fox said, they were given a "strong-arm choice."
“For the
working poor, the priority was the safety and survival of their children.” So
they chose to go north, where -- as it turned out -- they had no real freedom or autonomy.
Workers were
sent to Marietta, where they were put together with the Roswell workers. After
that, they were all treated basically the same. A monument in Roswell, funded
by the Sons of Confederate Veterans, says they were effectively deported (Picket photo, click to enlarge).
The 600 (500 of whom were women and children) were shipped out July 10 and 11,
with stops in Chattanooga and Nashville. Many were sent to Ohio and Indiana
after they arrived in Louisville, Ky., where they were initially imprisoned in
a hospital. A few died of typhoid, measles and other diseases.
“First housed
and fed in a Louisville refugee hospital, the women later took what menial jobs
and living arrangements could be found. Those in Indiana struggled to survive,
many settling near the river, where eventually mills provided employment,”
the New Georgia Encyclopedia says.
“Unless
husbands had been transported with the women or had been imprisoned nearby,
there was little probability of a return to Roswell, so the remaining women
began to marry and bear children.”
Lore has it few made it back to Georgia, but there are examples.
Sara
Frances “Fannie” White Claywas a daughter of one of the New Manchester Mill
workers. She went north with her mother to Louisville, according to
Charlie Crawford, president emeritus of the Georgia Battlefields Association.
She was called “Sissy” while growing up.
“Don’t
believe that ‘they were never heard from again’ baloney,” said Crawford.
“Sissy, her older sister and her mom returned to New Manchester area when the
war was over and were reunited with the father/husband. When Sissy grew up, she
married Alexander Stephens Clay, who became a U.S. senator. One of their sons
was General Lucius D. Clay, commander of the Berlin Airlift. One of their
grandsons was General Lucius D. Clay Jr., who was commander of Pacific Air
Forces when I was in stationed in Vietnam and Hawaii. So much for Sissy never
being heard from again.”
Depiction of mill workers assembled in Marietta, Ga., for transport north
After the Civil War, mills were reopened in Roswell, but not at New Manchester.
Sgt. John Dunlava (regimental history, his signature inside and the exterior of Jonesboro's Warren House (Picket photos)
John William Dunlava was here (Ireland), here (Lynville,
Ill.) here (Calcasieu Parish, La.) and, later in life, here
(Arthur, N.D.).
For
purposes of this blog post, Union Sgt. John Dunlava most importantly was here – the Warren House
in Jonesboro, Ga. And he wanted those who came later to know it. Employing
large, loopy letters, Dunlava signed his name on an interior wall.
The Warren House, built in 1840, has since then been a wedding and
events venue and, currently, an office for psychological therapy. On Aug. 31-Sept. 1, 1864 -- 162 years ago this week -- the residence was at the center of the
Battle of Jonesboro, a stunning Confederate loss that resulted in the capitulation of Atlanta.
The Warren House was used as a
field hospital and headquarters by Rebel troops until taken by the Union
on Sept. 2, 1864, for the same use.
“Captured by the 52nd Illinois Infantry,
signatures of convalescing Union soldiers still appear on the walls of the
downstairs parlor,” the facility website says. (Picket photo, above). It's possible some of the names are not of soldiers. Some other signatures, including that of Dunlava, are in an upstairs room.
Dunlava (pronounced Dunlavey) served in Company E, of the 34th Illinois, which was in the thick of
things at the decisive battle at Jonesboro.
“Looks like they were in the 4 p.m.
attack that overran (Daniel) Govan’s brigade and two artillery
batteries. Govan was captured and later exchanged for (George) Stoneman,”
said Charlie Crawford, president emeritus of the Georgia Battlefields Association.
The exchange in October would include most of Govan's captured men.
I could not tell from a search of online
records whether Dunlava was wounded at Jonesboro. And it’s hard to tell whether
he left his signature in 1864 or came back to visit the site. Some of the
writing on the wall dates to the 1870s, suggesting veterans traveled back to visit battlefields.
Why point out Dunlava?
Good question, and here is my answer.
It’s the one name that was legible and I could connect with a service record
and biographical details.
So I went down a rabbit hole, scouring the internet for
anything I could find about the man, who emigrated to the United States after
the Irish potato famine and farmed in the Midwest and the Northern Plains.
A regimental history published in 1902, three years
before Dunlava died at age 64, provides some details on his Civil War service. (Photo, findagrave.com)
For whatever reason, he did not much keep up with old
pards and is not listed in a list of 34th veterans attending an 1897 reunion.
“He says he has not met a 34th man for thirty
years, except Capt. J.M. Myers, of Company H, whom he met on a train, between
Chicago and Polo, Ill.,” the history says.
As for the house where he left his name? It's currently for sale with a $1.2 million asking price.
"The Warren House is more than real estate-it's an opportunity to steward a living piece of history while unlocking its commercial potential," says an eXp Realty listing on Georgia MLS.
He sailed from Ireland to start a new life
John Dunlava was born in County Mayo, Ireland, in June
1840. He moved to the United States in 1858 and, like more than 170,000 fellow
Irishmen, joined the Federal army.
Signatures of several individuals are encased behind a covering on the back wall (Georgia MLS)
At the time Fort Sumpter was fired on in April 1861, he was attending
school in St. Louis, Mo., and "saw the ‘Elephant’ before he appeared to the general
public,” said the regimental history.
“Seeing the elephant” was a 19th-century
metaphor for obtaining hard-earned experience, such as in combat.
The regiment fought throughout the Western Theater, from
Stones River to Chattanooga, the Atlanta Campaign, including Kennesaw Mountain,
the March to the Sea and the Carolinas Campaign.
By late August 1864, Atlanta was not yet subdued and a
few supply lines were still available to Confederate troops.
Map of battlefield that appeared in 1902 volume about the 34th Illinois
“Sherman determined that if he could destroy the Macon
& Western and Atlanta & West Point Railroads to the south the Rebel
army would be forced to evacuate the city,” says the American BattlefieldTrust. To counter Sherman, Hood sent Lt. Gen. William J. Hardee with two corps
to halt the Union movement.
“On August 31, Hardee attacked west of Jonesborough but
was easily repulsed. Fearing a direct attack on Atlanta, Hood withdrew one
corps from Hardee’s force that night. The next day, a Union attack broke
through Hardee’ s troops, which retreated south.
The 34th was among those to break Rebel line
The author of the regimental history details the Federal
assault by the 14th Corps against worn-down Rebels at Jonesboro. The attackers achieved a rare
success for those going against heavily fortified defenses..
Confederate POWs under guard after capture (Harpers Pictorial History of the Civil War)
The 34th Illinois and other regiments in the Sept. 1 attack knew they were in for a fight.
“Kenesaw (sic) was now two months old, and quite forgotten," says its history. "There was a saucy foe in front and a sure chance for a fight, with a fairly
good chance of giving him a threshing (sic).”
The attack netted about 600 prisoners and eight artillery pieces. Total Confederate casualties for Aug. 31 and Sept. 1 numbered between 1,400 and 2,200. Those captured were close to 900.
The 34th Illinois, which assisted the 78th
Illinois, had five killed and 14 wounded at Jonesboro. From May to Sept. 20,
1864, it suffered about 125 casualties.
The writer of the history, Sgt, Edwin Payne of Company A,
described rudimentary field hospitals. Regarding one, “There were forty-nine
cases of amputation at the hospital, this writer contributing a right arm to
the general assortment of such discovered appendages.”
The loss of the Macon & Western Railroad near Jonesoboro left Atlanta isolated and largely unsupplied. On the evening of Sept. 1, Hood finally evacuated Atlanta, which surrendered to Federal troops on Sept. 2.
The Warren House (above, Picket photo) was just one of many hospital sites
trying to save lives on both sides.
“For many years, a bullet lodged in
the wall and cannonballs in the yard were evidence of the proximity of heavy
fighting,” says an historical marker outside the home, which is located at 102
W. Mimosa Drive, off busy Jonesboro Road.
I visited the house several years ago
and took photographs of the signatures, which are preserved under a clear covering.
I couldn’t make out enough words to connect them with a specific soldier, as I
did with Dunlava.
“Willi Wood” may be a reference to 34th
officer William S. Wood. The “am” in William likely faded away with time.
Two more names at the end of the long panel in house; click to enlarge (Picket photo)
Veteran, wife endured ups and downs of life on the Plains
Dunlava stayed with the armyuntil
October 1864, when he received a 20-day furlough and went home.
“Upon his return, the Army had started on the ‘March to
the Sea,’ and he remained in Chattanooga, with Lieutenant Hall, of his Company,
until March 1865, and then went, by way of New York, to Morehead City and
Goldsboro, and joined his Regiment, 17 miles beyond Raleigh, N.C., and was
mustered out as a Sergeant, at Louisville, Ky.,” says the regimental history. His
service ended July 12, 1865.
Dunlava is listed in most census forms as a farmer. By
1870, he was living, apparently unmarried, near Lake Charles, La.
The lure of the Great Plains, specifically North Dakota,
drew Dunlava and other settlers bent on obtaining land and making their mark on
the agricultural expanse.
He met a divorced Clara Seager, seven years his junior,
on the Amenia Sharon Land Company's farm at Amenia in spring 1880 (photo, above). The company built a depot and, later, a grain
elevator at the nearby Northern Pacific tracks.
“John was one of the farm hands on this farm of 30,000
acres. Clara cooked for the crew of 30 men,” says a page on Digital Horizons, a
consortium of institutions celebrating life on the Northern Plains. The account
comes from a 1962 history of Arthur, N.D.
“They were married in 1880 and went to live on John's
homestead; the NW1 h of Section 30 of Arthur Township. Here they lived through many
vicissitudes the next twenty-five years; drought, grasshoppers, hail, chinch
bugs, rust and blizzards.”
The couple had several children; Clara had two from her
first marriage.
John died May 3, 1905, and is buried in Erie, N.D. Clara
moved with family the next year and died in 1920 in Roscoe, S.D. She was 72.
These names speak of lives long gone
Soldiers have long left their mark at places associated
with battles and campaigns. There are several other sites in the South bearing
scrawled names and graffiti.
This appears to be by a soldier with the 69th Ohio, which was at Jonesboro. This is downstairs (Picket photo)
The Warren House features several names, dates and poems.
A history on its website said they were discovered during repairs made in the
mid-1930s. The names include Robert Sullivan, James B. Washington and George W.
Harding.
“During the Battle of Jonesboro bodies of the dead and
wounded were reputedly piled three deep in the grounds behind the Warren
House,” according to the New Georgia Encyclopedia.
Crawford, of the GBA, said when he leads tours of Jonesboro or speaks about the Atlanta Campaign, he mentions that of all the engagements during the campaign, there was only one in which the attacking force was largely successful, and that would be Jonesboro
"When the 1993 Civil War Sites Advisory Commission report evaluated the 384 battles it considered, only
two battles in Georgia were ranked as Class A -- i.e., having a decisive influence
on a campaign and a direct impact on the course of the war," he added. "Those two battles
were Chickamauga and Jonesboro. How great it is that Chickamauga was the
first battlefield created as a national military park, and how sad it is that
Jonesboro is totally unprotected."Dr. Jack Farrar, who operates Mind Synch, a neuroscience center, bought the house in 1994. He provided mental health services there before revamping it as an event venue in 2012. Those services were largely curtailed after Covid-19 and the house is home to the therapy practice, says Farrar's daughter Sarah (Photo of exterior, Civil War Picket)
Rear of the Warren House can be seen just off Jonesboro Road (Georgia MLS)
Sarah Farrar told the Picket the house, zoned commercial, could be used for a business, residence or bed and breakfast. The family prefers that it be preserved and keep most of its character. A 2014 article in the Clayton News Daily quoted Jack Farrar as saying soldiers were moved to a dying room when nothing else could be done
for them after the battle.
"The surrounding land was once marked by visible breastworks, and relics such as Minie balls were commonly found on the grounds," says the real estate listing.
Was Dunlava wounded at Jonesboro? Visiting a comrade who
was? Or just stopped by the Warren House out of curiosity?
Many Civil
War artillery shells featured fuzes that were inserted into the top of the
round. They increased reliability and reduced failures to detonate.
The National Civil War Naval Museum in Columbus, Ga, provides examples in an exhibit case filled
with gun tools and devices. (Picket photos)
One of the
artifacts came from the wreckage of the CSS Jackson (Muscogee) ironclad, which
was manufactured in Columbus and set afire by Union troops when they took the
city in April 1865.
A member of a
salvage team that raised the wreck from the Chattahoochee River in the early
1960s kept a few items, including a fuze for one of the six Brooke rifles
employed by the Jackson. The man’s daughter donated the artifact a few years
ago, says museum director Brandon Gilland.
“I started
working on this piece right away,” Gilland told me. The fuze was encrusted in
grime.
Former
curator Jeff Seymour dropped by one day and told Gilland the fuze may still be
live.
“You can’t
put a live fuze on display,” said Gilland who used brushes and toothpicks to
disassemble the fuze and remove the black powder and paper wadding (Note: only
those trained in ordnance should attempt to do this.)
The fuze
would have been used for a 6.4-inch or 7-inch shell on the ironclad. Gilland
says the top says “10 SEC” to describe the time of desired detonation for the
shell.
Gilland said
he does not know who manufactured this fuze.
Next to it is
a Confederate fuze igniter, or friction primer, made by C.A. McEvoy of Richmond
, Va. McEvoy invented the igniter and it went into service in 1863.
The Horse
Soldier store, which sells Civil War equipment and uniforms, provided thisdescription when it sold one of the McEvoy friction primers. The item included
a wood cylinder, lead weight and a wire pin.
“Instead of relying on the discharge of the artillery piece to ignite the paper time fuses, McEvoy adapted the principle of the friction primer.”
“The lead
weight … had a small hole running its length and was filled with a fulminate
compound. A serrated wire ran through the lead and was suspended by a cross pin
through the wood cylinder. Upon firing, the set-back force cause the lead piece
to be pulled free, igniting the fulminate and in turn the paper time fuse
underneath.”
Grant Circle retaining wall, detail of mesh and stone gabions (NPS); old ones at Battery Hickenlooper (Library of Congress)
A giant new retaining wall at Vicksburg National Military Park – part of a $7.4 million project
to restore a tour road damaged by heavy rain in 2020 -- features a modern use
of gabions, a common feature in fortifications at the Civil War battlefield.
While the
50-foot gabion basket at Grant Circle is made of heavy wire mesh and stone and is meant to
improve road stability and drainage, those erected 160 years ago were
open-ended and made of woven baskets filled with whatever material soldiers could muster. They were built to protect men.
The National
Park Service found the comparison worthy of note in its recent announcement the
project at Grant Circle and North Union Avenue had been completed.
Gabions bookend recreated section of Fort Garrott (Vicksburg National Military Park)
“During the (1863)
siege, both armies used gabion baskets woven with cane reeds and filled with
earth and stone to strengthen trenches and ramparts. While the materials have
changed, the core engineering remains the same to reinforce an 1863 fortification
or a present-day road,” the agency said.
A large
portion of the Vicksburg project included the retaining wall, intended to improve road
slope stability and allow water to pass through, reducing the risk of drainage
pipe failures.
The historic gabions
were a cylindrical basket, open at both ends. When filled with dirt, they could
be used as a revetment to form parapets on trenches, according to the park. Both
sides would have used gabions in the construction of their fortifications.
Trench line with gabions and tree trunks at Coonskin's Tower at Vicksburg
The Federal army
used them to help construct trenches they dug across the Vicksburg landscape
as part of the successful siege. Battery Hickenlooper was a prime example.
It was hot
work.
In order to dig those trenches, soldiers would have to
construct gabions and sap rollers, which were used to dig approach trenches and
enabled troops to have cover as they advanced on the Confederate position, the
park said in an old Facebook post about fortifications.
Troops turned
to giant cane (Arundinaria gigantea), a fast-growing bamboo found across the
Deep South. “It became a lifesaver during the Siege of Vicksburg. Soldiers used
it to build fascines (bundled cane walls) and gabions (earth-filled baskets) to
reinforce trenches and fortifications.” (At left, example of gabions at Fort Sedgwick (Fort Hell) at Petersburg, Va. Library of Congress)
A soldier
with a Minnesota artillery battery wrote a June 1863 letter mentioning the features at Vicksburg:
“The embrasures, through which we fire, are made by setting up gabions
on each side of the space left for the embrasure, where they are staked down
and filled with earth. A gabion is made of stakes, with grapevines, young cane
or flexible bushes woven through them, so as to form a hollow cylinder something
like a large willow basket without the bottom, only much longer.
"The stakes are
left projecting at one end some distance beyond the wicker work, and when the
gabion is put in its place these projecting ends are driven into the ground and
the gabion is filled with dirt. When we first came into the work the embrasures
were not lined with gabions, and the consequence was that in one day's firing
we blew out the embrasures so wide that a two horse wagon could have been
driven through one of them.”
Before and after view of road section at Grant Circle (Vicksburg NMP)
The completion of the road project means the
entire 16-mile tour road is now open to visitors for the first time since 2020, when heavy rainfall created a landslide.
Additional
work at Grant Circle included milling and asphalt paving, new striping, curb
and gutter replacements and installation of a new drainage system on the west
side of the circle.
Along North Union Avenue, work crews installed 900 aggregate
piers under the new roadway as reinforcement to improve vertical load transfer
and reduce the risk of lateral soil failure, the park said.
Before and after section of North Union Avenue (Vicksburg NMP)
“The completed project includes improvements
to drainage, erosion control, and ground stabilization to help keep these roads
open for years to come,” the group said Monday. “This is a success our
supporters can take pride in.”
