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The Event: I have to say, that this event was one of the most organized and well run events I’d ever been to. Registration, parking, traffic flow and the layout was flawless (at least for Sutler’s Row). All the roads were well marked, there were realistic rules and security in place, but it wasn’t shut down like a prison camp (ala G140). There were great talks going on by big name historians (Ed Bears and Jerry Coates) and fabulous music programs (Jon Isaacson and Federal City Brass among them) There were also top notch artillery, infantry (Pagano and boys) and cavalry (Kern, Sweeney, Nolan and company). The theme was preservation and education and the battle was well scripted and had great narration. The trenches were a great feature for both Fed and Confederates to use.
The Storm: We’ve all seen it before, some guy (chicken little) runs through camp crying “A tornado is coming” and everyone doesn’t even raise an eyebrow, but when the sky turns green, it was time to think about a plan. After I saw the activity tent hovering like a flying saucer and porta-jons falling like dominos I knew my poor hospital tent didn’t stand a chance. We (John Greenfield, Mike Steinle and I) decided the best course of action was to preempt mother nature and drop the tent before she took it. This way I could decide the terms and conditions under which it would fall. With 4 people under the tables, we dropped the tent and I ran around and staked it down like a 19th century cocoon. I put some heavy crates on top and all inside kept their heads under my tables. I decided I was going to remain outside, a foolish choice in hindsight, but I needed to keep tabs on the tent and my inventory. As this was going on, other sutlers suffered. Hats got sucked out of Dirty Billy’s tent and flew away like a flock of geese, the cash drawer vanished from another tent, Fair Oaks and Civil War Lady’s tent got shredded while Confederate Yankee and Marty Liebshner had sunroofs installed in a crude manner. I spent the second half of the storm holding onto Wooded Hamlet’s tent trying to help Ken Wagner out. At one point a gust pulled both us off our feet and we flapped around like pennants. When the storm calmed down most tents were down, all were damaged and only a choice few survived unscathed. I turned around to see if the storm was coming back and noticed only a handful of A-frames still standing in the CS camp where there had once been a sea of canvas only 20 minutes earlier.
The Clean Up: This is the whole point of this post and proves that our hobby is the best in the world. No sooner had the wind and rain stopped did everyone come out and take stock of the damage. The first thought on everyone’s mind was of someone else. We ran to the worst tents (and to the tents of the elderly sutlers) to dig them out first. Tim Sheads, Pat Kline, Bob Sullivan and others quickly starting going down the line making damage assessments of each person’s business and coming up with a plan to get everyone back on their feet. For most it just required some elbow grease and down the line we went as if we were native to the PA Dutch country setting all tents back up in the order that they fell, not one person said “let’s do my tent first”, it was all done in order. Bob Sullivan had his ridge pole snapped so we jerry rigged his tent so at least he could stay for the weekend. Others decided not to set up again and just act as a makeshift flea market and hoped for clear weather. Still, at least two sutlers packed up and went home as there was nothing left to salvage.
Thanks: I think there a few who deserve special thanks (in no particular order) and I’m sorry if I don’t remember everyone, but it was a very hectic evening as you may imagine: The Loomis Family were the sutler coordinators and they were very supportive in the hours after the storm in making sure all our needs were taken care of. The land owners sent out their employees with fresh fruit for the sutlers and called in medical support where needed. Debbie Sheads who started cooking a stew within minutes to feed all of us with the only warm meal to be had within 10 miles. Bob Sullivan who handed me a Sam Adams. Dirty Billy for cracking jokes while Rome was Burning. John Greenfield and Mike Steinle of the 3rd Alabama who stayed with my tent and saved my business from ruin. Brian Merrick who sprinted from the trenches to my tent dodging trees and debris to help out during the storm. Federal City Brass who struck up music while we set up again ala the sinking of the Titanic. Jessie Mills and a score of other customers who ignored their own personal comfort to help out the vendors. Wide Awake Films for declaring we must go on with the show. And last but not least, the Spotsylvania first responders who were there within seconds of the first lightening strike. (If I forgot anyone, please accept my apologies).
Epilogue: I faired better than some and worse than others, but there was nothing in my tent that couldn’t be replaced. I made the garments once, I could do it again if I had do, but my friends and I were all OK and that’s all I cared about.
We had clear skys the rest of the weekend, the wool dried, the tent had some noticeable scars and business went on as usually as Brian Merrick declared “Crazy Daley’s Crooked Tent Sale is Now Commencing!”
The Storm: We’ve all seen it before, some guy (chicken little) runs through camp crying “A tornado is coming” and everyone doesn’t even raise an eyebrow, but when the sky turns green, it was time to think about a plan. After I saw the activity tent hovering like a flying saucer and porta-jons falling like dominos I knew my poor hospital tent didn’t stand a chance. We (John Greenfield, Mike Steinle and I) decided the best course of action was to preempt mother nature and drop the tent before she took it. This way I could decide the terms and conditions under which it would fall. With 4 people under the tables, we dropped the tent and I ran around and staked it down like a 19th century cocoon. I put some heavy crates on top and all inside kept their heads under my tables. I decided I was going to remain outside, a foolish choice in hindsight, but I needed to keep tabs on the tent and my inventory. As this was going on, other sutlers suffered. Hats got sucked out of Dirty Billy’s tent and flew away like a flock of geese, the cash drawer vanished from another tent, Fair Oaks and Civil War Lady’s tent got shredded while Confederate Yankee and Marty Liebshner had sunroofs installed in a crude manner. I spent the second half of the storm holding onto Wooded Hamlet’s tent trying to help Ken Wagner out. At one point a gust pulled both us off our feet and we flapped around like pennants. When the storm calmed down most tents were down, all were damaged and only a choice few survived unscathed. I turned around to see if the storm was coming back and noticed only a handful of A-frames still standing in the CS camp where there had once been a sea of canvas only 20 minutes earlier.
The Clean Up: This is the whole point of this post and proves that our hobby is the best in the world. No sooner had the wind and rain stopped did everyone come out and take stock of the damage. The first thought on everyone’s mind was of someone else. We ran to the worst tents (and to the tents of the elderly sutlers) to dig them out first. Tim Sheads, Pat Kline, Bob Sullivan and others quickly starting going down the line making damage assessments of each person’s business and coming up with a plan to get everyone back on their feet. For most it just required some elbow grease and down the line we went as if we were native to the PA Dutch country setting all tents back up in the order that they fell, not one person said “let’s do my tent first”, it was all done in order. Bob Sullivan had his ridge pole snapped so we jerry rigged his tent so at least he could stay for the weekend. Others decided not to set up again and just act as a makeshift flea market and hoped for clear weather. Still, at least two sutlers packed up and went home as there was nothing left to salvage.
Thanks: I think there a few who deserve special thanks (in no particular order) and I’m sorry if I don’t remember everyone, but it was a very hectic evening as you may imagine: The Loomis Family were the sutler coordinators and they were very supportive in the hours after the storm in making sure all our needs were taken care of. The land owners sent out their employees with fresh fruit for the sutlers and called in medical support where needed. Debbie Sheads who started cooking a stew within minutes to feed all of us with the only warm meal to be had within 10 miles. Bob Sullivan who handed me a Sam Adams. Dirty Billy for cracking jokes while Rome was Burning. John Greenfield and Mike Steinle of the 3rd Alabama who stayed with my tent and saved my business from ruin. Brian Merrick who sprinted from the trenches to my tent dodging trees and debris to help out during the storm. Federal City Brass who struck up music while we set up again ala the sinking of the Titanic. Jessie Mills and a score of other customers who ignored their own personal comfort to help out the vendors. Wide Awake Films for declaring we must go on with the show. And last but not least, the Spotsylvania first responders who were there within seconds of the first lightening strike. (If I forgot anyone, please accept my apologies).
Epilogue: I faired better than some and worse than others, but there was nothing in my tent that couldn’t be replaced. I made the garments once, I could do it again if I had do, but my friends and I were all OK and that’s all I cared about.
We had clear skys the rest of the weekend, the wool dried, the tent had some noticeable scars and business went on as usually as Brian Merrick declared “Crazy Daley’s Crooked Tent Sale is Now Commencing!”
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