Memoirs of a Mapmaker

Posted on June 23, 2019 by Earl B. McElfresh

Seeing my hand drawn historical maps on display has given me the impetus to take a look back at the incidents and experiences in my life that impacted and influenced my interest in maps and my career as a mapmaker.

The transatlantic voyage of the Tammy Norie was a major influence in my map making, but a singular inspiration in my interest and love of history came from a trip I took with a friend.

Growing up in a small town in rural upstate New York about 350 miles away from New York City, Manhattan was always in the back of my mind as the most glamorous place in the world to live and work. My shining city on the sea.

A Toddler’s View of New York

I was introduced to New York life when I was just a toddler. My mother, sister and I accompanied my father to a PT Boat reunion in New York. He had captained PT 490 in the Pacific Theatre during WWII. He was a highly decorated officer, winning a silver and a gold star. His fellow skipper was Joe Moran of Moran Tugboats.

My father, in the the white shirt, with my sister and I aboard the Tug Peter Moran.

During the reunion our family was entertained at the Moran home in New York’s most exclusive neighborhood–Sutton Place. This was my beau ideal of New York–and probably everybody else’s.

A College Grad’s View of New York

Skip ahead twenty odd years. Forget Sutton Place. I lived in a third floor walk up on East 74th Street between 2nd and 3rd Avenues. Working as an expediter for a furniture company in the D&D Building, Bloomingdale’s was nearby. I earned enough money to eat and live in a decent neighborhood in Manhattan. Making my own way, on my own terms, managing a comfortable existence–something that would not be remotely possible today.

My mother was visiting one day and we ran into a college friend of mine who I had lost touch with, Zachary Kent. He was working in New York and living in New Jersey. Zach had a car.

Zach invited me to accompany him on a trip to Gettysburg that he had planned. I had always been interested in history but concentrated primarily on English and British history—possibly—indeed certainly, because of The Beatles. After months in a small, cramped apartment, however, a car ride into the country, any countryside, anywhere, sounded like a wonderful plan. So. Gettysburg? Yeah. Great. Never been there–our family trips were always sailing adventures. Dramatic? Yes. But always along the coast and on the water.

A View of Gettysburg

Once in Gettysburg, and on the battlefield we began our tour at the copse of trees where Pickett began his charge and advanced across the open fields toward the stone wall at the foot of Little Round Top where the Union Lines were located. That experience was a historic epiphany for me. The vividness of that trek, essentially changed my life and made me a Civil War Historian. History had never been so tactile for me. It wasn’t words on a page or pictures in a book. This is where it happened, these were the actual rocks, this was the actual place. Dramatic? Yes. I more or less took a deep breath and to be honest have never really exhaled.

Zach and I went to the book store at the battlefield–and always a big reader–I bought a few books, not realizing that Civil War books would engulf my library, indeed my life. But the problem was when I read the books, I had to hand draw sketch maps to properly comprehend and mentally visualize the complex and often bewildering movements and actions that I was reading about and trying to understand in the histories.

At some point I had purchased a Carmen Cope map of the Antietam Battlefield. Cope had been a veteran of the battle. It was a large map and very detailed, it fully documented the battlefield, but in black and white it very accurately depicted, but failed, I thought to appropriately dramatize the field. And my immediate thought was,” I wonder if I can do something about this, maybe I can sketch in a few trees, draw in some corn stalks, color in a few fields….”

It Was 50 Years — Today

Posted on June 12, 2019 by Earl B. McElfresh

One of McElfresh Map Company’s Influences

With McElfresh Maps on exhibit, I was asked what were my influences. There are many, but a significant one was a family trip…a remarkable one….

Tammy Norie at Whisstock’s Boatyard, Woodbridge, Suffolk, England. June 12, 1969

The First Tammy Norie

As a kid I traveled extensively with my family. As a member of the Niagara Frontier Ski Team my winter trips were invariably to ski races in distant parts of New York or New England. One summer, my dad, a WWII naval veteran, bought a 40 foot sail boat and berthed it in Essex, Ct. That became our home away from home and vacation outing each summer. Throughout high school, our vessel, the Tammie Norie, a 40 foot Ketch, sailed along the New England Coast and in Long Island Sound.

The Boatyard Fire

A winter boat yard fire in 1968 in Essex consumed a number of boats including the Tammy Norie. My Dad was devastated and his search for a replacement vessel was very disappointing. He ultimately concluded he really just wanted another Tammy Norie. That meant contacting the original builder in Woodbridge, Suffolk, England and commissioning an almost identical vessel.

The New Tammy Norie

A new problem…when the yacht was constructed and ready—our sailboat was 3,000 miles away. Obviously an ocean crossing for somebody was in prospect. So 50 years ago, at the end of my freshman year at St. Lawrence University, I got to go to England with my family. My sister and I had been drafted into service as crew.

A Trip to London

We had to spend a day in London to pick up necessary travel documents and as a Beatle fan I took advantage of my proximity to Apple Records in central London. As chance would have it, as I stood gazing at The Beatle’s town house headquarters in awe, I had the opportunity to sneak in when the door swung open for a messenger to leave. Although awestruck and bewildered, I managed to grab a few postcards at the reception desk before being summarily ushered out.

The Voyage

I was now ready to sail the high seas with my family and our one recruited crew member, who later became my brother-in-law. We sailed down the Deben River to the English Channel and through the Bay of Biscay to Madeira off the coast of Africa. We crossed the Atlantic Ocean propelled along by the same strong, steady trade winds that brought Columbus to America. We stopped in Bermuda for a brief refit and rest. We completed the voyage with a six day sail to Block Island and another final short day sail brought us to our ultimate destination, up the Connecticut River to Essex, Ct.

The Influence on McElfresh Map Company

My Dad was our navigator on this voyage. He relied on essentially the same technology that Columbus used on his voyage in 1492: a sexton, the sun and the night stars. That became the model for preparing my maps—keep it simple, stick with the old tried and true techniques..

The Miraculous Maps of D-Day

Posted on June 5, 2019 by Earl B. McElfresh

As we approach the 75th anniversary of D-Day, McElfresh Map Company honors the Engineer Model Making Detachment. All of these mapmakers knew where the D-Day landings would come, more than a year before June 6, 1944. They were working class and middle class, British and American, men and women. They came from unlikely civilian backgrounds to be providing indispensable military services. They were painters, sculptors, scene designers, ornamental plasterers, architects, draftsmen, cabinet makers, carpenters, geographers, teachers, metal workers – there were even toy designers.

The American members were officially in the U. S. Army Corps of Engineers. The women were the British Women’s Auxiliary Air Force (W.A.A.F) and the other men were part of what was known as V-Section, the Royal Air Force (R.A.F.).

We also honor the pilots that took part in the intensive aerial photographic missions. Their high altitude photographs were pieced together as mosaics, creating de-facto maps. Innumerable flights were flown over occupied Europe by aircraft equipped with twelve inch Fairchild cameras, K17 six inch cameras for multiplex mapping and K18 twenty-four inch cameras for large scale coverage. Spitfires, P-38 Lightnings and Mosquitos flew the missions. At times, they swooped down low to capture oblique photographs, and the planes returned to England with foliage caught in the fuselage.

These were ordinary people in extraordinary times doing amazing things in a war the world absolutely needed to be won.

A New Year and New Maps

Posted on March 9, 2019 by Earl B. McElfresh

I just put the finishing touches on two new battlefield maps. One I had started quite some time ago, put it aside for another map and forgot about it. It’s always nice to find a project in progress. The other map was a bit of a challenge. A family friend asked if I could do a map. Doing a map is easy for me–it’s the research that tends to trick me, but in this case it was more than just the research, it was the weather. I’ll explain.

Stones River Map

Stones River, a battle that took place during the Civil War, was the map I found. I had originally started a version of it for Stephen Sear’s Lincoln’s Lieutenants, an excellent history and a must read if you are interested in the American Civil War.

Stone River, TN Map — Stones River on display at McElfresh Map Company.

I am very pleased with the results of my Stones River map. It is a relatively obscure western battlefield. The significance of the battle: the relative victory came at a low point in the Union’s fortunes and Lincoln in gratitude thanked General Rosecrans, the Union Commander, saying that had it been a Union defeat instead of a Union victory the nation could scarcely have lived over it. Later in the war Lincoln mentioned the victory at Stones River and General Grant scoffed that it was no victory.

For Grant, victory meant flags being surrendered, armies being disarmed and marching off the field. But when an Army has endured a long string of stinging defeats, an outcome only slightly better than a stand-off can seem like a moral victory, a turning of the pages, a new lease on life. For Lincoln, whose political senses were fine-tuned, the equivocal outcome of Stones River, was to a despondent Union public, a comparative victory at a point in time when an actual, outright defeat, could have been a disaster.

There are cotton fields in the map which are always a treat to do. Many pine trees – always a nice effect. And corn fields, my absolute favorite embellishment—delightful corn stalks with little yellow kernals—dot the map.

It is always nice to bring attention to the western battlefields which tend to be overlooked.

Bastogne Belgium Map

The other map I finished was Bastogne. Bastogne was a town that figured heavily in World War II. Family friends asked me to do a map of a battle where their father had fought. He was a man I knew and greatly admired. I was thrilled. But I didn’t want to commit until I knew I could do it. He documented his service during the battle. Mapping the area in which he saw battle will take a little more research on my part.

But in the mean time I decided to do a study. Reason being—the weather, how does one do a map and depict the weather. The winter weather was notorious during the Battle of the Bulge and had an impact on the battle. But how does one, or should one, depict that in a map. In the end, on my study at least, I opted to go for a green terrain. Weather, at least in my home base western NY and I’m betting Belgium as well, changes every hour, but the terrain—fields take seasons, trees take years, river courses takes centuries (and can sometimes dramatically change) and those beautiful mountain take eons to take hold.

Currently on the map table: The finishing touches on a small map of Stones River, TN, the research for the second Bastogne Map, and a very interesting one for me—a local map of my parish and two other local parishs.

And on a Completely Different Note

And on another table, at least for a couple of days – parts of my small collection of Rock memorabilia. My son’s co-worker is a fan of that era, the music and the rock and rollers. It was treat for me to bring it all out—especially my short arm Rickenbacker.

Headstock of a Rickenbacker Guitar — Rickenbacker guitar with extra strings just waiting for a new gig.

A Daybook in a Life–Guitar Excerpts

Posted on May 8, 2018 by Earl B. McElfresh

It’s Good to Give Yourself a Good Scare Every Once and Awhile

Prologue

My guitar playing moved from the confines of my apartment when my cousin Wade moved to NYC. We practiced together and took our act to the rooftops and the streets of Manhattan. It was, needless to say, exhilarating.

I have continued to play ever since. When my children were little I serenaded them every night with a selection of Buddy Holly, The Beatles and my own songs. Then I would knock them out by reading my latest history book. You’d think that they would have had enough of me and my guitar.

My daughter, bless her heart, is about to graduate from college. Ever since she turned 21 she has asked me to play at her favorite haunt on open mike night. I have always agreed. But we never set up a date. Until last week. It was the last “open-mike” night before she graduated. It was now or never.

I gave a talk about Civil War Confederate generals at a historical society and then hit the bar with my guitar—a diverse evening if ever there was one. Both events went well. My knowledge of Civil War history definitely surpasses my talent as a rock-n-roll guitarist. Both are great fun and equally exhilarating.

But it all started back in 1984–note the Daybook entries:

Tuesday June 19, 1984—New York City—Back on the job—Not so very hot and nice and sunny. Drove to Poughkeepsie then back roads to Hudson then down to Saugerties. Home. I went to L and H’s and met Wade and L and H. They were on their way to their Pre-Cana conference at St. Jean Baptiste so Wade and I had a bite to eat at the 3 Star Restaurant and talked computers, job interviews, rock n roll and the insurance business. We all met up there and went back to the co-op. I walked Wade part way home then headed home up 3^rd Avenue.

Tuesday July 3, 1984—New York City—Business day up-state. Talked to Wade immediately upon arrival home and halfway through my walk met he and J.L at Pancho Villas. She is from Iowa. Looks about 35. Actually 21 or so. She’s met all kinds of movie directors and film stars and seems to have enjoyed an amazing career in New York in one month.

We left her off and went over to Wade’s and played guitar.

Wednesday, July 4, 1984—New York City—I got up in the middle of the morning and got into my white trousers, inked up white shirt and sear sucker jacket to see some air show over the Intrepid. All the way down to 57^th and 11^th Ave. I sat down on the stoop of some studio-like building and, keeping my eye open for WWII bombers, I started work, on scrap yellow papers from Pancho Villas, on a new play. I got something down but there were no planes.

I spent the afternoon reading and playing guitar. I’d told Wade the night before I’d write a song and so I did that. Later, I went down to watch the fireworks with Wade and J.A. from Sutton Place at 55^th Street. It was really nice. A huge, hippy crowd and a soft, warm breezy night and the display framed in the buildings, had a homier effect than normal. Some sailors were almost turned around by J.A. We all went and had a coke and I went home from there.

A DayBook in a Life: Elderly Neighbor Excerpts

Posted on April 19, 2018 by Earl B. McElfresh

Prologue

My second apartment in NYC was a 5^th floor walk-up on 91^st and Lexington. It was nice – a living room, a small kitchen, a bedroom. The bathroom was nicely tiled with, ironically enough, American Olean Tile and featured an authentic stain glass window. The living area overlooked the 92^nd Street Y. The apartment was rent stabilized—which was great. Initially the rent was under $300 and only modest increases were allowed throughout my tenancy.

On the fourth floor, below my apartment and that of my next door neighbor, in a six-room flat, boasting two fireplaces, a kitchen and a pantry, overlooking both 91st and Lex, lived Mrs. Graham. Mrs. Graham could not remember when she moved in, it was after the War, but she wasn’t sure which war, could have been WWI, may have been WWII. I didn’t pursue it. Her rent was $104 throughout her tenancy. She was convinced the landlords were trying to kill her. They weren’t.

Mrs. Graham and I became fast acquaintances. When I introduced myself to her the first time I pronounced my name phonetically Mac.EL.fresh. I was used to talking to the elderly; my grandmother back home was hard of hearing–pronunciation and pitch were important. Shortly thereafter there was a timid knock at the door and Mrs. Graham queried me about my name. She had picked up a package, brought it up to me and saw the name McElfresh spelled out. Puzzled she said, “I have relatives in Maryland. They have the same name, but they pronounce it McElfresh.”

Her pronunciation was the same as our pronunciation – we were somehow distantly related.

Mrs. Graham was old and needed help. I found myself frequently changing light bulbs, feeding her cats, running errands, typing her angry memos to the landlord, letters to the editor, and other diverse correspondence. I agreed to type a poem that she had written, “Home”. Needless to say it was an epic poem.

In return she baked me things. I saw her kitchen, the cats on the table, the milk sitting out, and then there was the rattling I heard one day. I glanced around and under the table was an open coffee can—the rattling was the mass of cockroaches crawling around it in. So when baked goods were offered, I very politely thanked her and tossed the delectables out—living in NYC in the 70’ and 80’s a good sense of self-preservation was necessary.

My grandmother loved my selected Mrs. Graham stories—and there always one to relay to her. Even after Mrs. Graham passed away, for my Grandmother’s sake, I kept her alive and continued to pass along stories.

Select Mrs. Graham Entries

Thursday, Jan 5, 1984—New York City—Mrs. Graham is downtown in court today–her malpractice suit against Lenox Hill Hospital. She used my credit card last night to order a Fugazy Limousine.

Tuesday July 3, 1984—New York City–Incidentally, Mrs. Graham has been having difficulties and I was supposed to take care of her cats if anything went wrong or if she had to go to the hospital. She said on the telephone, after a visit to her doctor, that she is in trouble. We whispered a small prayer.

Wed. Nov. 28, 1984—New York City—Mrs. Graham called first thing in the morning to say that she was having a coronary. I got down there and found her weak as a kitten and panting. Sat her down in her chair where she leaned back, tears streaming down her face and breathing strenuously. I called her doctor and got her nurse who telephoned for an ambulance. When it arrived fifteen minutes – in between the police came and went and Mrs. Graham gave me instructions in a very weak voice to have the cats killed and herself cremated—the crew said, “Where’s the emergency?” and indicated that Mrs. Graham was fine. I was a bit flustered, truly. I had to deny that I called 911. Anyway, I called her niece K.R. and another ambulance came and things ended up all right.

Mon. Dec. 3, 1984—New York City—Had a phone call from Mrs. Graham. She sounded fine. Took an abbreviated walk. Dad bought 32 acres, including a quarter-mile of shoreline in Vinalhaven, off Maine.

Map: Topographical map of the City of New York : showing original water courses and made land
New York : Ferd. Mayer & Co., c1865.
Via Library of Congress, Geography and Map Division

A Daybook in a Life — Day 200

Posted on April 2, 2018 by Earl B. McElfresh

A Map of the Trenton and New Brunswick Turnpike Road

THE SUSPENSION OF DISBELIEF

Sat. July 21, 1984—New York–M.H.and I headed off to Princeton in a pouring rain. She brought along a bag of cherries and we drove slowly down Rte. 1 in New Jersey with cherry pits shooting out from first one side of the car, then the other.

At Princeton we visited the Art Gallery and ate 2 eggs and toast each at Harry’s. I don’t suppose I care to live there. It reminded me of a prosperous stock broker town in Westchester. Oh well. It was only ever an idea anyway.

We stopped in Little Falls and telephoned Zach. Back in NY we got Chinese to go at Egg Foks or something. Zach arrived and ate one egg roll and off we went to see a suspension. Some man hanging by meat hooks on a wire over 11^th Street. I was quite hoping that the police would arrive in time to do a suspension of their own but they didn’t. M.H. was up in the window—she was on hold in case they—can you believe it!—needed somebody to put the hooks in.

It happened and got over with by maybe 8 o’clock. Some Puerto Rican super was extremely impressed when I explained to him what the mechanics of this thing were going to consist of. We took M.H. home then went to see Ghostbusters. It was all right. There were plans to go to Mystic in the morning so I went right to sleep.

###

Note: More on the suspension: It really did happen and you can learn more at the Art Gallery NSW. The artist was Stelarc, the suspension was organized by the Mo Gallery. He was suspended from the fourth floor on a cable between two buildings on East 11^th Street. The suspension lasted 12 minutes. I did witness it and was appalled at such a macabre, useless presentation of what? Was it uplifting? Was it inspiring? Or was it just a disturbing spectacle in a strange period of time full of them?

Map of the Trenton and New Brunswick Turnpike Road: Via the Library of Congress, Geography and Map Division

A Daybook in the Life–Days 180-183

Posted on March 25, 2018 by Earl B. McElfresh

McElfresh Family Yacht<br /> Tammy Norie <br /> Whiskey Delta 6553

McElfresh Family Yacht
Tammy Norie
Whiskey Delta 6553

Prologue: Tammy Norie is the name of a small Scottish bird, a puffin.

Timeframe: Mid-1960’s

The Boat: The first Tammy Norie was built in Woodbridge, Suffolk, England by Whisstock’s Boat Yard, situated on the Deben River, several miles upriver from the English Channel. It was sailed solo across the Atlantic Ocean by a British doctor, William McCurdy. The voyage was a personal challenge which Dr. McCurdy set for himself. Satisfied, he put his boat up for sale in Essex, CT. and flew home.

Bus McElfresh from landlocked Olean in upstate New York, had served in World War II in the Pacific Theater. He captained a PT (Patrol Torpedo) Boat and fell in love with boats and the ocean. Twenty dry years later, a successful business and family man, he got back on the water. He took his family for a week on a chartered sailboat. That didn’t settle his sea-faring spirit, it only stirred it all the more.

An avid reader of Yachting magazine, he saw an ad for a sailboat in Essex, CT. He loaded the family into the station wagon and set off to take a look. It wasn’t quite what he was looking for—but another boat was. A beautiful British built 40 foot ketch. Dark blue wooden hull. Dark reddish sails Bowsprit. A stunning vessel–Dr. McCurdy’s Tammy Norie.

Mr. McElfresh made an offer and the family spent a couple of years sailing the Tammy Norie on Long Island Sound and along the Atlantic Coast of New England. The Tammy Norie spent winters in storage in Essex, Ct. Mid winter 1968, a fire roared through the winter boat storage barn in Essex destroying a number of boats—the Tammy Norie was one of them

It was decided to rebuild the Tammy Norie at the same yard in Woodbridge that had built the original beloved vessel. The boat was built. The family now owned a brand new Tammy Norie. Difficulty: it was in England and they had to get the 40 foot sailboat to Essex, CT. Quick solution—fly to England and sail the Tammy Norie home. The four member McElfresh family (parents and college age daughter and son) and a recruited crewman sailed the Tammy Norie from Woodbridge down the English Channel through the Bay of Biscay to the Portuguese island of Madeira off the coast of Africa. Powered by the trade winds, the same wind that brought Columbus to America in 1492, they crossed the Atlantic Ocean to Bermuda and finally on to Essex, CT.

The trip was successful. The crewmen married the captain’s daughter and Bus McElfresh’s family sailed the new Tammy Norie along the New England coast until his death in 1991. During those years, the boat was harbored in Essex, CT, Camden, ME and finally in Stonington, CT.

Fast forward to 1984–the boat after being based in Camden for more than a decade had to be sailed to a new home port in Connecticutt. The first segment of the journey as documented in the daybook:

Thursday, June 28, 1984—New York City to Camden, ME—Zach and I picked up M.H. at 8:00 and Jay at 8:15. Breakfast at Sherwood Diner in Saugatuck, or someplace, Conn. Arrived Camden at 6:00. Dinner at the Sail Loft with the Eddy’s and McClellen’s. Overnight on the boat.

Friday, June 29, 1984—Sailing—Left Camden at 10:45. Foggy and cold. Wind off the bow. By midnight entire crew has been violently sick except Jay. A long day. M.H. looking pale and big-eyed and very curly hair.

Saturday June 30, 1984—Sailing—Mom’s Birthday. Foggy day at sea. Saw a whale or two in Cape Cod Bay. A lovely dinner in the Canal though fog hugged the entrance like an old horror movie. Arrived Quissett at 12 midnight. A grateful crew. Jay, Zack and I stayed aboard. M.H. and Dad retired to the Hamilton residence with Mom.

Sunday, July 1, 1984—Falmouth, MA to New York City—Got up at 7:30. Paddled around the harbor a bit. Dad arrived and we all went to the house for showers and breakfast. The McClellen’s arrived with my car. Drove down to check in with Dad then to Curtis Food Shop and bought a box of Michael Jackson cards with Amy, a pack of “Nerds” for Carrie. All went swimming at Wood Neck Beach then took off about 4:30 for Mystic. Went to see the house then a very pleasant dinner at the Seaman’s Inn. Dropped M.H. off first, then Jay. Zach staying the night. Home by 12:30.

A Daybook in a Life — St. Patrick’s Day 1984

Posted on March 17, 2018 by Earl B. McElfresh

Sat. March 17—New York City—St. Patrick’s Day. Woke up, got out of bed, worked at my play for a couple of hours and then bundled up and headed downtown, to 9^th Ave and 42^nd Street to buy tickets to Fool for Love, the Sam Shepard play. I stopped by Brooks Brothers on the way to buy a new coat and with the St. Patrick’s crowd milling around and my shamrock tie and pretty dreary looking coat, the 2^nd floor guy didn’t hardly give me the time to say what I was looking for before he told me categorically that they didn’t have any such thing and then ushered me out the door.

I fought my way back uptown and watched the parade for quite a while from in front of Gimbel’s then came home and ate apple, cheese and a bagel then out again. It was quite cold really, with periods of bright sun, but it was blustery and grey most of the time. The parade this year seemed kind of subdued emotionally. I think politics is creeping in to a damaging degree. I was appalled at the make-up of the Irish Northern Aid committees. I thought to myself they’ll need more help than that.

A Daybook in a Life–Days 168 &169

Posted on March 11, 2018 by Earl B. McElfresh

Civil War Battlefield Journey Continues….

Monticello, Photographed by Rufus W Holsinger via the Library of Congress.TMore

Sun. June 17. 1984—Virginia–Had the best grits of my Southern trips. We drove up to Monticello and did a fairly thorough tour. The area surrounding reminded me, for some reason, of Olean though the vegetation was thicker, clustered certainly closer to the road and more “viney” than W. New York. None-the-less, that was an impression I got. It was a beautiful day. Hot, heavy sun. I got a kick out of looking in the mirrors Jefferson looked in. Mirrors have, after all, some spirit and image correlation. It was interesting too, knowing Jefferson’s intense feelings about Monticello to try and imagine how peaceful and proprietary it would feel to have all that – the long terrace of gardens, the Mulberry Row of shops, the walks of flowers, the sense of satisfaction the Presidency would give.

I got a crush on a chubby little blonde girl who took tickets outside the east entrance and when she and her little skinny sister walked off down the path, something little placed in my heart sighed and will wonder forever.

We packed up and headed for Ashland, Monroe’s house, just two miles and visible from Monticello. It had nothing of the “consequence” about it that Monticello does, but was interesting in a general way. Peacocks (and pea hens) roamed the grounds.

Then on the road again North, via Rte. 64W and then to Staunton and Rte.11 North, the old Valley Pike. I saw the wooden mill in Edenburg that Sheridan spared because it was the town’s only livelihood. We stopped just short of Winchester and I took a long walk to determine the situation vis-a-vis the Battle of Kernstown. I believe I have succeeded and will put my conclusions to test in the morning.

**Also on Rte. 64 we drove up the west side of the Blue Ridge Mountain in a gushing rain storm, and as we were just coming out of it, there galloping beside the road and alongside a “falling rock” fence was a baby fawn. Disposition not known.

Sketch of the Battle of Kernstown, Sunday, March 23d 1862, Jedediah Hotchkiss. Via the Library of Congress Georgraphy and Maps Division.

Mon. June 19, 1984—Virginia, Maryland and New York–Zach slept and slept while I read and wrote–a beautiful foggy morning in the Shenandoah Valley. The very nice motherly Oriental woman who seems to own the place signaled me over for a cup of coffee and then couldn’t get the dispenser to work. She thought Zach was my wife. Two nights before a Pakistani motel keeper thought he was my father.

We drove a mile or so up Route 11 to the middle Road and then drove Southwest for app. 1 mile. A ready row of trees went diagonally NW across the field. I selected this as the sight of the stone wall of the Battle of Kernstown. We drove the car up a farm path alongside the extended clump of trees and stopped where there was a break through. Some older fella drove up in a station wagon. His son owned the property. Later a real pretty lady came by named Kooce. The owner was her husband. She said that they were of the opinion that this was the place too and that reenactments had taken place here as well.

So we hit the road pretty well pleased and headed for Sharpsburg. A few wrong turns later we were there, had lunch at the Red Byrd and headed out to hunt for property. It had gotten very humid and hot. I wasn’t feeling to extremely earnest about finding a place so after some desultory looking around, we headed back to NY. Dropped Zach off and made it to the apartment by 8:15. Took and abbreviated walk and made some phone calls: Lee, Wade, Marta, Liza, Mom & Dad, read a bit and to bed.

Photos:

Holsinger, Rufus W., Copyright Claimant. Monticello Cirkut. Photograph. Retrieved from the Library of Congress, <www.loc.gov/item/2007663557/>.

Hotchkiss, Jedediah. Sketch of the Battle of Kernstown, Sunday, March 23d. 1861. Map. Retrieved from the Library of Congress, <www.loc.gov/item/2005625007/>.

Tammy Norie Press

An Imprint of McElfresh Map Company

Author Archives: Earl B. McElfresh