Tweet
Struggling to Buy Bits Of Civil War History
Many Owners Wary of Selling Property Rights
By Fredrick Kunkle, Washington Post Staff Writer
04/11/2004
The Washington Post
Nearly 142 years ago, "Fighting" Joe Hooker's men charged across what today is Dennis Walters's front yard, bayonets flashing, bullets flying.
Close by, another swarm of Union soldiers hastened along the Frostown and Dahlgren roads -- past where Dave Bollman's place is now -- eager to rout a band of vastly outnumbered Confederate soldiers defending one of three passes on South Mountain.
Now, as preservationists renew their push to protect the Civil War battlefield from encroaching development in Frederick and Washington counties by buying up development rights, some landowners, including Walters, are reluctant to go along.
Scattering straw over a muddy patch beside his long driveway one day last week, Walters, 58, a retired federal employee, said he has been repeatedly wooed over the past two years by state officials and private organizations interested in blocking future development on his property on Frostown Road.
But Walters, who owns 33 acres, said he is no longer interested in selling development rights. For one thing, two years of on-again, off-again discussions with preservationists never led to a price he could be satisfied with, he said.
What's more, Walters said, he worried that entering a permanent
agreement known as an easement, which would pay him thousands of dollars per acre for the land's development rights, could lead to bureaucratic tangles over putting an addition on his home or building any new structure on his land. Such easements have been purchased with money raised by private organizations as well as the state and federal governments.
"Given some time to think about it, I have some reservations about having the federal government and state government in partnership with ownership of my property," Walters said. "You can't modify anything on your property without their permission."
Despite success in setting aside thousands of acres around South
Mountain, the Civil War Preservation Trust in its Feb. 24 annual report listed South Mountain among the nation's 10 most-endangered battlefields and urged renewed efforts to preserve it.
"It's important to keep the land preserved. You can go there and get a feeling of time and place," said Civil War historian Edwin C. Bearss. "Even if you don't give a damn about the Civil War, it's a handsome area."
O. James Lighthizer, president of the trust, said during a tour of the battlefield that he hoped the report would trigger action to preserve properties such as Walters's. The group, drawing on state and federal funds and as much as $3 million a year from its 50,000 members, hopes to entice more landowners to sell their development rights.
"We could probably use another 1,000 acres," Lighthizer said. "That's about what you need to do it right."
Triggered by the Union's serendipitous discovery of Confederate military plans, the battle of South Mountain gave the Union's beleaguered, ever-cautious Maj. Gen. George B. McClellan a much-needed victory and thwarted Gen. Robert E. Lee's first attempt at invading the North. It also was a prelude to the bloodletting at Antietam, where the young nation would set a grim benchmark for suffering -- 23,000 American casualties in a single day -- that would remain unmatched through the Normandy invasion in World War II and the terrorist attacks of Sept. 11, 2001.
On Sept. 14, 1862, the battle rolled across South Mountain. The action spread over seven miles and focused on three mountain gaps: Crampton's, Fox's and Turner's. The Union soldiers carried the day -- but the Confederates held long enough to allow Lee to regroup. Each side lost about 1,800 men.
Among the casualties was Lt. Col. Rutherford B. Hayes, who survived his wounds to become president 15 years later. Another future president, Sgt. William McKinley, was unscathed.
Thousands of acres in and around the South Mountain battlefield have been conserved by the state and federal governments, including Washington Monument State Park to the north, Gathland State Park to the south and land along the Appalachian Trail, which passes over South Mountain.
But Washington's suburbs have crept closer as dairy farms and fields fade into McMansions and cul-de-sacs.
"The pressures for development in the Middletown Valley are tremendous," said Bill Clipper, president of Friends of the South Mountain State Battlefield. "There's not too many alternatives when someone waves a million or $2 million at you for a farm that you've been sitting on for 60 years."
In 1992, the Maryland Department of Natural Resources' Program Open Space began mixing federal highway funds with state money to preserve Civil War battlegrounds, largely through the purchase of development rights. Private groups such as the Civil War Preservation Trust also stepped in. In October 2000, the General Assembly created the South Mountain State Battlefield, the first and only such state battlefield.
To date, 10,136 acres, representing 51 properties and $16.6 million in state funds, have been preserved around South Mountain, said H. Grant Dehart, policy director for capital grants and loans administration in the Maryland Department of Natural Resources. But there is only so much public and private money available for the work, and persuading landowners to give up their development rights is not easy, Dehart said.
"They're always comparing it to what they could get if they sold it for development," Dehart said. "They're doing exactly what you or I would do if we owned the property."
So far, preservationists have spent as much as $15,000 an acre on a historically desirable property that had approval for subdivisions. The average is about $3,800 an acre, he said.
Walters, for example, gives a toothy laugh as he declines to discuss what preservationists offered him for his property's development rights or how much he would want. But he acknowledged that the 33 acres he bought in the 1970s for $45,000 would go for much more. Other farms, he says, sell for $6,000 an acre and more, he said.
Next door is Dave Bollman, a 45-year-old construction worker well versed in the flow of battle that occurred on the mountaintop. Bollman, who said he has not been approached by preservationists, endorsed the idea of conserving the land.
"In my opinion, you should try to preserve a lot of this. It's
historical," he said.
At the same time, however, Bollman said he would be wary about signing away his development rights. Bollman, a gun collector who already fears that suburban newcomers will want to take his guns away, said he also wasn't sure that he would permanently surrender development rights on his property.
"A lot of times," he said, "it's too much government."
Many Owners Wary of Selling Property Rights
By Fredrick Kunkle, Washington Post Staff Writer
04/11/2004
The Washington Post
Nearly 142 years ago, "Fighting" Joe Hooker's men charged across what today is Dennis Walters's front yard, bayonets flashing, bullets flying.
Close by, another swarm of Union soldiers hastened along the Frostown and Dahlgren roads -- past where Dave Bollman's place is now -- eager to rout a band of vastly outnumbered Confederate soldiers defending one of three passes on South Mountain.
Now, as preservationists renew their push to protect the Civil War battlefield from encroaching development in Frederick and Washington counties by buying up development rights, some landowners, including Walters, are reluctant to go along.
Scattering straw over a muddy patch beside his long driveway one day last week, Walters, 58, a retired federal employee, said he has been repeatedly wooed over the past two years by state officials and private organizations interested in blocking future development on his property on Frostown Road.
But Walters, who owns 33 acres, said he is no longer interested in selling development rights. For one thing, two years of on-again, off-again discussions with preservationists never led to a price he could be satisfied with, he said.
What's more, Walters said, he worried that entering a permanent
agreement known as an easement, which would pay him thousands of dollars per acre for the land's development rights, could lead to bureaucratic tangles over putting an addition on his home or building any new structure on his land. Such easements have been purchased with money raised by private organizations as well as the state and federal governments.
"Given some time to think about it, I have some reservations about having the federal government and state government in partnership with ownership of my property," Walters said. "You can't modify anything on your property without their permission."
Despite success in setting aside thousands of acres around South
Mountain, the Civil War Preservation Trust in its Feb. 24 annual report listed South Mountain among the nation's 10 most-endangered battlefields and urged renewed efforts to preserve it.
"It's important to keep the land preserved. You can go there and get a feeling of time and place," said Civil War historian Edwin C. Bearss. "Even if you don't give a damn about the Civil War, it's a handsome area."
O. James Lighthizer, president of the trust, said during a tour of the battlefield that he hoped the report would trigger action to preserve properties such as Walters's. The group, drawing on state and federal funds and as much as $3 million a year from its 50,000 members, hopes to entice more landowners to sell their development rights.
"We could probably use another 1,000 acres," Lighthizer said. "That's about what you need to do it right."
Triggered by the Union's serendipitous discovery of Confederate military plans, the battle of South Mountain gave the Union's beleaguered, ever-cautious Maj. Gen. George B. McClellan a much-needed victory and thwarted Gen. Robert E. Lee's first attempt at invading the North. It also was a prelude to the bloodletting at Antietam, where the young nation would set a grim benchmark for suffering -- 23,000 American casualties in a single day -- that would remain unmatched through the Normandy invasion in World War II and the terrorist attacks of Sept. 11, 2001.
On Sept. 14, 1862, the battle rolled across South Mountain. The action spread over seven miles and focused on three mountain gaps: Crampton's, Fox's and Turner's. The Union soldiers carried the day -- but the Confederates held long enough to allow Lee to regroup. Each side lost about 1,800 men.
Among the casualties was Lt. Col. Rutherford B. Hayes, who survived his wounds to become president 15 years later. Another future president, Sgt. William McKinley, was unscathed.
Thousands of acres in and around the South Mountain battlefield have been conserved by the state and federal governments, including Washington Monument State Park to the north, Gathland State Park to the south and land along the Appalachian Trail, which passes over South Mountain.
But Washington's suburbs have crept closer as dairy farms and fields fade into McMansions and cul-de-sacs.
"The pressures for development in the Middletown Valley are tremendous," said Bill Clipper, president of Friends of the South Mountain State Battlefield. "There's not too many alternatives when someone waves a million or $2 million at you for a farm that you've been sitting on for 60 years."
In 1992, the Maryland Department of Natural Resources' Program Open Space began mixing federal highway funds with state money to preserve Civil War battlegrounds, largely through the purchase of development rights. Private groups such as the Civil War Preservation Trust also stepped in. In October 2000, the General Assembly created the South Mountain State Battlefield, the first and only such state battlefield.
To date, 10,136 acres, representing 51 properties and $16.6 million in state funds, have been preserved around South Mountain, said H. Grant Dehart, policy director for capital grants and loans administration in the Maryland Department of Natural Resources. But there is only so much public and private money available for the work, and persuading landowners to give up their development rights is not easy, Dehart said.
"They're always comparing it to what they could get if they sold it for development," Dehart said. "They're doing exactly what you or I would do if we owned the property."
So far, preservationists have spent as much as $15,000 an acre on a historically desirable property that had approval for subdivisions. The average is about $3,800 an acre, he said.
Walters, for example, gives a toothy laugh as he declines to discuss what preservationists offered him for his property's development rights or how much he would want. But he acknowledged that the 33 acres he bought in the 1970s for $45,000 would go for much more. Other farms, he says, sell for $6,000 an acre and more, he said.
Next door is Dave Bollman, a 45-year-old construction worker well versed in the flow of battle that occurred on the mountaintop. Bollman, who said he has not been approached by preservationists, endorsed the idea of conserving the land.
"In my opinion, you should try to preserve a lot of this. It's
historical," he said.
At the same time, however, Bollman said he would be wary about signing away his development rights. Bollman, a gun collector who already fears that suburban newcomers will want to take his guns away, said he also wasn't sure that he would permanently surrender development rights on his property.
"A lot of times," he said, "it's too much government."