Tweet
On a weedy, wooded lot west of Jacksonville, history is disappearing.
Most of Camp Finegan, one of Florida's largest Civil War camps and the longest-occupied site in Northeast Florida, has been swallowed by time and development. All that remains, according to a regiment of steel-willed preservationists, is a small but historically significant plot in residential Marietta.
They want to save the 6-acre parcel, and its owner, who's asking $600,000, is sympathetic to their cause. But the property's groundwater is contaminated by a wood-preserving chemical, according to a recent environmental survey. That discovery defeated the city's plans to buy the land, casting the plot's future into doubt.
Now, preservationists face the same question the camp's occupants encountered more than 146 years ago: retreat or fight on?
Like all battle regiments, the preservationists have a leader, and his name is Fred Singletary. If there were any letup in his will to carry on, it doesn't show.
Singletary, a long-time community activist known to many as the "Mayor of Marietta," is pressing ahead with plans to plant a pair of historical markers on a sliver of property to be donated by the owner. And coming next month, Civil War re-enactors will gather at the site for a weekend-long "living history" program.
Re-enactments are old hat at more established Civil War sites like the Olustee Battlefield, east of Lake City, and Camp Milton, a city-owned site six miles west of Finegan. Although they are given to wearing old hats, participants from April 16-18 will convene for just the second time at Camp Finegan; the first was last October.
Singletary, a 62-year-old who looks about a decade younger despite his graying mustache, said he hopes the events help reacquaint the community with the history in its midst and attract corporate sponsors for its preservation.
"Everything else is pretty well-developed, and this is where the officers were in the main body of the camp," he said last week, standing on the shoulder of Hammond Boulevard, the road that passes in front of the tree-draped property.
As Larry Rosenblatt, a fellow Civil War buff and one of Singletary's foot soldiers, tells it, "We're very, very lucky that this isn't a gas station or something else here."
Flanked by railroad tracks to the north and neighborhoods to the south, Camp Finegan passes for just another fenced-in lot on first inspection. Look deeper - as Singletary and other amateur historians have done - and you'll find the evidence that they say distinguishes the property from its suburban surroundings.
Thirty years ago, when Singletary started his pursuit of Camp Finegan, it was believed to have been centered at Joseph Stillwell Middle School, based on a historian's report in the early 1960s. To be sure, the camp encompassed hundreds of acres of the area now bisected by Interstates 10 and 295, and Singletary believes Stillwell was part of it. But he wasn't convinced it was anything more than the camp's geographic heart.
First, a quick history lesson: Famed Confederate military engineer Pierre Gustave Toutant Beauregard oversaw the camp's construction in 1862. Named for Gen. Joseph Finegan, who would go on to lead an overmatched Confederate force to victory at Olustee, the camp was used as the base of operations for the Confederacy in Northeast Florida.
As soon as it became clear that rumors of Florida's sympathies for the North were greatly exaggerated, the Union forces attempted a new tack in Northeast Florida. With the fall of Vicksburg ending the South's beef supply from Texas, the North resolved to cut off Florida from the rest of the South.
If successful, the North could have shortened the war by a year, said Al Kyle of the Capt. Winston Stephens Camp of the Sons of Confederate Veterans. Finegan and a handful of other Confederate encampments were all that stood between the North and a swifter victory.
Standing in front of the site, looking east and west, Singletary noticed several years ago that the terrain falls away slightly in both directions. That was a clue: Old accounts say that Finegan was situated at the highest point along the railroad tracks west of Jacksonville.
Several accounts put Finegan's location eight miles west of the federally controlled downtown Jacksonville and four miles east of what is now the Whitehouse area. What's more, those accounts mention a railroad spur - another clue - that enabled the camp to load cannons onto railcars and deploy them into Jacksonville to take potshots at passing ships.
With the owner's permission, Singletary and others searched the property and found hand-hewn railroad cross ties, the kind that stopped being made around 1900.
They also discovered a small man-made hill hidden among a tangle of brush, which they believe once served as a ramp to mount the cannons on a train. The North quickly duplicated the feat, leading to the first-ever recorded train-on-train cannon duel. That historical encounter ended when the Union train accidentally fired on itself.
In February 1864, Union forces led by Col. Guy Henry overwhelmed Finegan and its force of about 450 soldiers. Now in Union hands, its name was changed to Camp Shaw, and the camp was used to enlist and train former slaves. Among the African-American forces stationed at the camp was the 54th Massachusetts, the subject of the 1989 movie "Glory."
After the war, with the exception of a few artifacts buried here and there, the camp vanished. Today, its exact location is a matter of debate.
Larry Skinner of the Museum of Southern History in Jacksonville suggests that Stillwell is a more logical location. But, he added, he has no problem with Singletary's preservation's efforts.
"I can't say there wasn't something there. If they want to preserve it, that's fine, I'm not against it. But Hammond Boulevard is too far away," he said.
Neither controversy nor the land's $600,000 price tag cloud Singletary's visions for the property. He sees a place for the community to gather, and for educational displays and battle re-enactments.
Anything but a gas station.
Most of Camp Finegan, one of Florida's largest Civil War camps and the longest-occupied site in Northeast Florida, has been swallowed by time and development. All that remains, according to a regiment of steel-willed preservationists, is a small but historically significant plot in residential Marietta.
They want to save the 6-acre parcel, and its owner, who's asking $600,000, is sympathetic to their cause. But the property's groundwater is contaminated by a wood-preserving chemical, according to a recent environmental survey. That discovery defeated the city's plans to buy the land, casting the plot's future into doubt.
Now, preservationists face the same question the camp's occupants encountered more than 146 years ago: retreat or fight on?
Like all battle regiments, the preservationists have a leader, and his name is Fred Singletary. If there were any letup in his will to carry on, it doesn't show.
Singletary, a long-time community activist known to many as the "Mayor of Marietta," is pressing ahead with plans to plant a pair of historical markers on a sliver of property to be donated by the owner. And coming next month, Civil War re-enactors will gather at the site for a weekend-long "living history" program.
Re-enactments are old hat at more established Civil War sites like the Olustee Battlefield, east of Lake City, and Camp Milton, a city-owned site six miles west of Finegan. Although they are given to wearing old hats, participants from April 16-18 will convene for just the second time at Camp Finegan; the first was last October.
Singletary, a 62-year-old who looks about a decade younger despite his graying mustache, said he hopes the events help reacquaint the community with the history in its midst and attract corporate sponsors for its preservation.
"Everything else is pretty well-developed, and this is where the officers were in the main body of the camp," he said last week, standing on the shoulder of Hammond Boulevard, the road that passes in front of the tree-draped property.
As Larry Rosenblatt, a fellow Civil War buff and one of Singletary's foot soldiers, tells it, "We're very, very lucky that this isn't a gas station or something else here."
Flanked by railroad tracks to the north and neighborhoods to the south, Camp Finegan passes for just another fenced-in lot on first inspection. Look deeper - as Singletary and other amateur historians have done - and you'll find the evidence that they say distinguishes the property from its suburban surroundings.
Thirty years ago, when Singletary started his pursuit of Camp Finegan, it was believed to have been centered at Joseph Stillwell Middle School, based on a historian's report in the early 1960s. To be sure, the camp encompassed hundreds of acres of the area now bisected by Interstates 10 and 295, and Singletary believes Stillwell was part of it. But he wasn't convinced it was anything more than the camp's geographic heart.
First, a quick history lesson: Famed Confederate military engineer Pierre Gustave Toutant Beauregard oversaw the camp's construction in 1862. Named for Gen. Joseph Finegan, who would go on to lead an overmatched Confederate force to victory at Olustee, the camp was used as the base of operations for the Confederacy in Northeast Florida.
As soon as it became clear that rumors of Florida's sympathies for the North were greatly exaggerated, the Union forces attempted a new tack in Northeast Florida. With the fall of Vicksburg ending the South's beef supply from Texas, the North resolved to cut off Florida from the rest of the South.
If successful, the North could have shortened the war by a year, said Al Kyle of the Capt. Winston Stephens Camp of the Sons of Confederate Veterans. Finegan and a handful of other Confederate encampments were all that stood between the North and a swifter victory.
Standing in front of the site, looking east and west, Singletary noticed several years ago that the terrain falls away slightly in both directions. That was a clue: Old accounts say that Finegan was situated at the highest point along the railroad tracks west of Jacksonville.
Several accounts put Finegan's location eight miles west of the federally controlled downtown Jacksonville and four miles east of what is now the Whitehouse area. What's more, those accounts mention a railroad spur - another clue - that enabled the camp to load cannons onto railcars and deploy them into Jacksonville to take potshots at passing ships.
With the owner's permission, Singletary and others searched the property and found hand-hewn railroad cross ties, the kind that stopped being made around 1900.
They also discovered a small man-made hill hidden among a tangle of brush, which they believe once served as a ramp to mount the cannons on a train. The North quickly duplicated the feat, leading to the first-ever recorded train-on-train cannon duel. That historical encounter ended when the Union train accidentally fired on itself.
In February 1864, Union forces led by Col. Guy Henry overwhelmed Finegan and its force of about 450 soldiers. Now in Union hands, its name was changed to Camp Shaw, and the camp was used to enlist and train former slaves. Among the African-American forces stationed at the camp was the 54th Massachusetts, the subject of the 1989 movie "Glory."
After the war, with the exception of a few artifacts buried here and there, the camp vanished. Today, its exact location is a matter of debate.
Larry Skinner of the Museum of Southern History in Jacksonville suggests that Stillwell is a more logical location. But, he added, he has no problem with Singletary's preservation's efforts.
"I can't say there wasn't something there. If they want to preserve it, that's fine, I'm not against it. But Hammond Boulevard is too far away," he said.
Neither controversy nor the land's $600,000 price tag cloud Singletary's visions for the property. He sees a place for the community to gather, and for educational displays and battle re-enactments.
Anything but a gas station.
