When war came to the shores of the Chesapeake, what was it like for everyday citizens and local militiamen, as well as slaves, freedmen, and women? That question was examined in a program on Feb 1st at Harford Community College, as I drew on original stories of underrepresented groups and the narratives of everyday people who aren’t talked about in the history books. I’ve found that there is a growing interest in the accounts of ordinary residents, the ones who didn’t or couldn’t grab the front page of the newspaper or chapters in a textbook.
That’s one of the things I’ve done with this War of 1812 program is get away from those big stories, the often told perspectives, while sharing the chronicles of the ordinary person in that troubling time on the Chesapeake. How did a lowly militiaman experience the horror of having their homeland being on the front line right here? What were the implications of possibly having Royal marines storm into your village in the darkness of midnight? What did families think about in those terrifying days in the spring of 1813? What about the stories of others such as freedmen and slaves?
These are the kinds of questions best answered by the words of people who lived it as found in surviving letters, diaries, and others manuscripts. I’ve been working on drawing on their stories, rather than those people know about such as New Orleans, the British burning of Washington or the Battle of Baltimore. There’s room for both, but it’s good to let underrepresented voices present the past too.
The initial delivery of this fresh perspective based on first person accounts was well received and there’s been lots of positive feedback.
Last Week I was in Princess Anne talking to Somerset County Library patrons about how to investigate the history of an old house. A little research can cause a property to give up some of the puzzle such as when it was built, who lived in it and its stories. Several of the patrons had old houses they were interested in examining so we talked about research strategies, interpretation methods, and how to document the structure.
This past week, I was at the Corbin Memorial Library in Somerset County for a talk called “Stories Worth Repeating from Crisfield.” Over ten years ago, I wrapped up extensive fieldwork in the waterman’s town, digging up archival materials and interviewing sources. Those days down there talking to people, paging through newspapers, and digging around the courthouse records in Princess Anne were some of the most fascinating that I have done. So, when the library called to ask if I could do a program, I decided to share some of the quirky, offbeat, and obscure narratives I collected, along with my methods.
It wasn’t going to be your standard Chamber of Commerce lecture. Here is how I explained it to the large audience: There are many ways to explore our rich past in small towns, but I often use a non-traditional technique to examine community history. When I arrive in a town as a stranger, seeking out stories that create a unique sense of place, I am apt to decide I need a police officer right away. It is not because there’s some trouble brewing, and mind you, I’m not looking for your average 20-something beat officer. No, I need someone special, say an 80-year-old who has worked our small towns’ streets and back alleys day and night for at least a generation. When these old-style lawmen weren’t busy taking care of wayward types and carting drunks off to jail, they kept an eye on everything on their beat.
This technique, which I have honed over my decades of rummaging around small towns, provides me with some of the most fascinating historical insights and stories one could hope to unearth. You get a cop’s eye view of the day-in and day-out goings-on from someone who knew their beat and their town as no one else could. This makes my stories much richer and more complete.
Chief Carmine
When I first went to Crisfield to gather information, my first stop was the city hall. While talking to the clerk to see if I could find some leads, she mentioned Jesse W. Carmine, an 82-year-old working as an inspector in the public works department. The lady suggested I talk to him since he was an employee of the city for almost half a century, most of it as a police officer. By the way, he had also served as the chief, she added.
That sounded like a great lead to me, so they called him on the radio. It wasn’t too long before the city public works truck pulled up with Mr. Carmine behind the wheel. After explaining my purpose, we talked for a good bit. Chief Carmine, in such a fascinating and informative way, took me back to a time when policing was far different in Maryland and this watermen’s town.
His stories were about the passage of nearly 50 years while prowling the night, chasing speeders, corralling troublemakers, and putting jailbirds behind bars as the long arm of the law in a tough Chesapeake Bay Town. The patrolman started in the old days long before they were SWAT teams, crisis negotiators, computers, CSI, female officers, or for that matter patrol cars and two-way radios. After we finished talking, we hopped into the city truck for an informative tour of Crisfield, a place that he knew so very well, having grown up there in the decades before World War II.
Crisfield Stores
I was so fortunate to have met Mr. Carmine and had the opportunity to learn so much about a different time and place. And I was pleased to repeat some of the stories he and others shared. These were stories worth repeating as the audience appeared to thoroughly enjoy this approach that sure wasn’t your standard Chamber of Commerce talk.
The Crisfield Police Department around 1960. Officer Carmine is the 3rd man from the right. (source: City of Crisfield)
I have just started working on an exciting new investigation that is seeking to answer questions about the impact the military has on people and communities when it uproots long-established families to create a wartime reservation. This particular migration occurred in Harford County, Maryland, as the government established Aberdeen Proving Ground in 1917, six months after the United States entered World War I. To create the Proving Grounds, families occupying nearly 73,000 acres were forced to make a “patriotic sacrifice” and move. They had no choice but to quickly relocate for the “good of their country,” so hundreds were displaced, many with large farms that had been in their families for generations.
As many of the displaced and their descendants still live in the area, two local partner organizations, Harford County Public Library and Hosanna School Museum will document their stories. Using “youth curators,” the project will collect their oral histories, documents, and photographs, as we examine their reactions and efforts to make a new life work.
The goal of this project, which is being underwritten by the Maryland Humanities Council and the Smithsonian Institute is to work with “youth curators” to help them create an exhibit that will tell this unexamined story. So soon, thanks to the stakeholders and “the youth curators,” we’ll have a better idea of what really happened when the big government moved in, and families moved out.
I’m serving as the project scholar. It’s always exciting to investigate the changes that have come to our communities, and I’m particularly looking forward to this youth-oriented project.
