Tuesday, September 01, 2009
Gettysburg, Day 2: An Historic (and Slightly Haunted) Dinner
So, believe it or not, there’s more to tell about Day 2 at Gettysburg. An action-packed day indeed, and perhaps it’s not a coincidence that the second day was long for the soldiers in the Civil War battle, too!
Following an afternoon playing my own great-grandmother before a nineteenth-century camera, evening brought yet another opportunity for time travel—we met the lovely Emerald and her partner in adventure, Rick Write, for dinner at the historic Farnsworth House. My oldest sister was also joining us as she was already in town for the family reunion the next day. It was indeed a thrill to see Emerald, and in a way it’s as if we’d just seen each other a month rather than almost a year before (at In the Flesh’s Oral Sex Night). Talk about tricks of time!
Because our reservation was at seven, we had some leisure to walk around the town, which was feeling very much like home to me now. When I first arrived, my mind was buzzing with hazy memories from my many visits, but it seemed as if they were coming into focus. I could really appreciate the place in a new way, and I wonder if my writer’s way of taking in the world had something to do with it? In any case, although I don’t live close anymore, Gettysburg felt more like “mine” than ever before in my life. Not quite sure why, but it was a good feeling.
Our first stop was a gallery of a Civil War-themed artist (whose name I forget, but it’s right there near the square). Apparently he was known for his historical accuracy in portraying battle scenes, although my fancy was taken with a very romantic and surely anachronistic tableau of a southern belle kissing her officer lover among the magnolias, while the rest of the couples at the ball looked on approvingly. Voyeurism, exhibitionism, a suggestive group-sex dynamic, and all in extravagant costume (how do you do it in the garden in a hoop skirt?)—there was much fodder for an erotic story, but then my eyes are always open to new material.
After a stop at a funky cafe for some iced tea, it was time to head over to the inn. I’m a sucker for historic dining experiences, although I know the food at such places is seldom tops in quality. It’s usually decent, however, and of course, a meal is more than just food. Add in some pewter, heavy silverware, candlelight, waitresses in long dresses, caps and frilly aprons, some hovering ghosts from the past (and of course charming contemporary company) and you’ve got a dining experience to transport you to another time.
There’s a lot of history (and plenty of ghosts) at the Farnsworth House. The oldest part of the house was built in 1810, and the brick structure where we dined was added in 1833. Original walls, floors and rafters remain intact—they don’t build ‘em like they used to, that’s for sure! A family named Sweney lived in the house during the battle, but some Confederate sharpshooters also took temporary residence in the summer of 1863. It’s believed one of them shot the bullet that killed teenager Jennie Wade, the only civilian to die in the battle. The south side of the house, facing the battlefield, is riddled with over 100 bullet holes from those bloody July days. The current owners began to restore it to its 1863 appearance in the early 1970s. They named it after Union Brigadier General Elon John Farnsworth who led an ill-fated charge against the right flank of Longstreet’s forces after Pickett’s Charge failed. I don’t think of the battle lasting beyond that debacle, because it doesn’t in the telling, but the Farnsworth Inn commemorates later seldom-heard casualties of the battle.
After dinner, the plan was to corral the party to attend a presentation of ghost stories in the inn’s basement “Mourning Theatre.” I definitely have an appetite for ghost stories and ghost tours, although, like a hot fudge and brownie ice cream sundae, I prefer them as occasional indulgences. When we’d visited with our older son in 1996 (the time we took the first picture), Herr Doktor and I went on one of the two lantern ghost tours offered at that time. Now you can find a ghost tour advertised on (almost) literally every block. It would be hard to choose, except with some local’s recommendation—or perhaps they’re all similar? While I’m comparing ghost tours to food--I seem to compare everything to food, don’t I?--I’d like to add that I like mine with a mildly creepy flavor rather than the grisly end of the spice rack. Actually, what I really enjoy about ghost stories is how they make me think about the way the human mind works. Urban legends are the same in this regard. Ghost stories have such a broad appeal because they tap into our deepest anxieties and even hopes, so that picking apart such a story is a way of digging deeper into the human psyche. Besides which, ghosts stories are usually good, suspenseful yarns in themselves and I’m always looking to steal good tricks!
I have a pretty bad memory for jokes and stories, but a few of the terrible tales we heard on that earlier ghost tour have stayed with me for over ten years. At the risk of going on and on, I’d like to share them here and see what you think.
The first ghostly visitation occurred in one of the historic houses along the main street in the town. The innocent resident bought some figures of famous officers who served at the battle and set them up on her mantel as decoration. The next morning she came down to find them rearranged. No problem if she had children who’d played with them, but—she lived alone! Confused, she rearranged the figures in her preferred order and went about her business. The next morning--to her surprise and growing horror--they were changed around yet again in exactly the same way. After doing a bit of research, the hapless Gettysburg homeowner discovered that her chosen way to display the figures was historically inaccurate and some unseen hand was fixing them to reflect the way things really happened during the battle. I believe the denouement was that she decided to leave things as they were and the ghost kept his peace.
Creepy, huh? I can just see that earnest, slightly annoyed ghost strategist putting things right just round about midnight.
The next story is a bit more grisly. Some years ago two men got into an elevator in a Gettysburg office building and pressed the button for the third floor. The elevator began to move, but not up. Instead it was going down. Again not a big deal except—there was no basement in this building! Exchanging worried glances, the men waited in silence as the elevator slowly descended and the door slid open. Their jaws dropped. Because suddenly they were gazing out at a horrible scene: wounded men groaning, severed limbs piled high beside the bloody surgical table, and a horrible stink of rotting flesh filling the air. The man with more wherewithal stabbed the “lobby” button and the door closed on the frightful tableau. When it opened again, they were back in the present day. Later they learned that the building was constructed on the same site that was used as a battle hospital by the Confederates.
Enough to send a shiver down anyone’s spine.
To tell the truth, this grim tale occasionally pops into my head when I’m riding an elevator. I’m not sure I have the perverse appeal all worked out in my own mind, but there is definitely something creepy about elevators (anxiety about technology is a common theme in urban legends and supernatural tales). You get into this little box, wait, the door opens and you walk out into a different place as if by magic.
But what if you walked out into a different time as well?
It’s surely a question for us all to ponder, but all of these ghost stories are making me hungry. So let’s get back to dinner. After a waiting a bit in the bustling entryway of the Farnsworth House, our party of seven was escorted to our long table in what was probably the original dining room of the house. The cups were pewter, nicely cool and heavy in the hand. Real candles flickered all around. Perusing the nineteenth-century menu was a great deal of the fun—in keeping with the time meat dishes were prevalent. Emerald and Rick stayed true to the times by ordering the house specialty, game pie, and steak, respectively, both of which were reportedly tasty. I had scallops—simply braised in butter and quite nice--and Herr Doktor tried for the chicken pot pie, but it was sold out and he got so-so crab-meat stuffed salmon instead. As is usual in such places (this is true of Williamsburg taverns as well), the side dishes are the most intriguing parts of the menu. I’d give highest marks to the custardy cornmeal spoon bread that was served in little cups, although the Sally Lunn bread was disappointingly dry. The green beans boiled in ham broth were as nostalgically limp and salty as my grandmother used to make, but the pumpkin fritters were delectably spiced with cinnamon and wouldn’t have been out of place with a side of ice cream. I left most of the beans and polished off my son’s fritters quite happily (cause he thought they were weird--I'm not that bad of a mother!).
But of course, conversation was the best condiment. Rick is a history buff and had lots of interesting stories to tell about the Civil War period, a topic very much on my mind. We also got to talking about food preferences, and Emerald and Rick shared their very intriguing idea for a restaurant catering to couples. Their menu would have three sections. On the left would be a list of dishes aimed at the traditional female preferences—salads, seafood, light meals. On the right would be the traditional meaty, manly fare. However, the middle panel would have the house specialties, which blended the two in a new marriage of flavors.
I thought this sounded really cool.
Having experienced this man food/woman food split on dates (although Herr Doktor and I have pretty similar likes and dislikes after 24 years together), I thought such a melding of gendered cuisines would certainly provoke interesting date-night discussion, and possibly encourage a satisfying meeting of the appetites in preparation for another sort of intimate encounter later. Food as foreplay indeed!
Although tempted by the shoofly pie on the dessert menu, I was full enough to pass this time, figuring there’d be plenty of opportunity to indulge in Amish Country (and boy was there ever…). The kids ordered ice cream, which arrived scooped high in pewter bowls, and the adults chatted on into the evening, thereby missing the ghost story presentation at the inn altogether. This was probably good since I was really the only one who was genuinely enthusiastic. My kids thought they might get scared and I suspect Emerald was just being polite when she agreed to come along. So, everyone was happy and unhaunted when we walked out into the night, dodging knots of tourists strolling by with their lantern-toting ghost tour guides.
We said a not-so-sad goodbye to Emerald, for we’d be seeing her again the next evening for the Erotica Writer’s Bacchanalia, which was sure to be the scandal of Hanover for decades to come (and hopefully inspire annual reenactments).
Stay tuned next time to discover what happens when a bunch of dirty story writers get together for a big bash!
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Eeek! I think I might be a little like you when it comes to haunted places and stories - I'm curiously drawn to the supernatural, but quivering in my flip-flops at the same time. The scary factor stays with me for what seems like forever too.
That's a wonderful picture of both you and Emerald. You each look so happy!
I agree -- side dishes are generally where it's at -- much more interesting. What IS shoofly pie? I've heard of it plenty, but never encountered one. I'll go google now. I DO NOT LIKE GHOST STORIES! ;) But these are good ones!
Ha! How fun it is to read this and recall what a lovely time I had! :) Rick likes the description of him as my partner in adventure, by the way (lol). Right now we're adventuring in Baltimore for a few days attending the three-game series of the Yankees playing the Baltimore Orioles.
Lol that you recounted our restaurant idea! The idea actually originated because Rick's and my historical orientations toward cooking (which we both much like to do) are different from each other -- I tend to focus on what is healthful, both in ingredients and cooking style/preparation, whereas he focuses more on flavor. Both of us have historically been willing to subvert our respective non-priority focuses in favor of our primary focus. :) So my side of the menu (the left side indeed!) would be things that are focused more on what is healthful, whereas on his side, flavor would be the foremost consideration. And as you said, in the middle we would do our best to combine the two in the most optimal way possible.
We may look into this after we win the lottery, lol! ;)
Rick says the name of the artist whose gallery we visited is Mort Kuntstler, and he has actually asked me to thank you for accommodating his request to visit that gallery, as he did not even realize there was a viewing room for originals there. He has been a serious admirer of Kunstler for as long as he can remember and had never been afforded such an opportunity.
Anyway, sorry to ramble on in your comments, lol! Thanks again for meeting with us that night -- we had such a fabulous time!
awwww..i wish i could have been there with you and emerald..glad you all had such a wonderfull and entertaining time..:-))
Yes, Mort Kunstler was the gallery you were thinking of. Here's a link:
I love his work.
I thoroughly enjoyed the ghost stories (something I have always enjoyed.) The meal sounds like a fun adventure (Farnsworth house, yet another local place we haven't been yet.)
One of my favorite things (surprise, surprise) is your musings on the painting with the southern belle. I like the way your mind works, Donna!
Looking forward to the next installment! ;-)
Thank you, Donna! I feel almost like I was right there at dinner, spooning with the spoon bread. (I'm going to be saying "custardy cornmeal spoon bread" all day, I think.)
And I love your erotic take on that picture:
Voyeurism, exhibitionism, a suggestive group-sex dynamic, and all in extravagant costume (how do you do it in the garden in a hoop skirt?)
That's where those split-crotch drawers come in handy, right? (As a secondhand, 145-years-after-the-fact voyeur, I'm quite content with his and hers oral, if that's what works.)
I like the image of you quivering in your flip-flops--that's me. Ghost tours are so vacation-y, kind of like a rollercoaster! And yes, maybe the most haunting part is what lingers in my imagination. Interesting point!
Emerald and I were pretty happy after those fritters and spoonbread :-).
I'm surprised you don't like ghost stories, Susan, because your writing is so fearless. I thought of you as the type who'd grab the lantern and lead the charge into the creepy old house at the front of the group!
So, you probably know now, but shoofly pie is a specialty of PA Dutch country. It comes in wet and dry depending on how thick the molasses filling is. It's like pecan pie without pecans, but struesel on top instead. When it's good, it's very, very good and just speaks the old homestead to me!
Thanks for all of your comments, Emerald. I was hoping you or Rick could help me with that artist's name! The gallery was a great way to bring the war alive, although of course I had to focus on the one picture with sex, lol.
I think your restaurant idea is truly fabulous, mainly because I can so relate to the "good for you" versus "tastes good" split. I experience that within myself, so to have a menu that showed how to blend the two would be fascinating. And of course the chefs would probably learn a lot, too.
I hope you're buying lots of lottery tickets :-).
And let me say again what a pleasure it was to eat spoonbread with you two adventurers in Baltimore!
Danielle, Craig and Jeremy--so you guys up for dressing up in uniform with your ladies in hoops to help me "research" this split-drawers issue? Then we could all write stories afterwards!
Right after you get your wet-plate family photo done you should head over to the Farnsworth House, Craig. Order only a large bowl of spoonbread with a side of pumpkin fritters and ice cream. And make sure to go early so you can make the ghost show. (Hope you don't mind my vicarious-living suggestions!)
We've been watching the Ken Burns' "Civil War" series (not sure we watched all of it when it was originally on) - and it's been fascinating in light of our recent visits to DC and Gettysburg.
and my mind just went blank with what I was going to say next. hahaha - welll, if it comes to me, I'll return.
Hey Robin, well, do come back if you have more comments! I did watch "The Civil War" back when it first aired and I remember sobbing, tears streaming down my face, when that letter by Sullivan Balloo (sp?) was read. It's still one of the saddest and loveliest pieces of prose ever written imo. It's a fabulous series--I'm wanting to watch it again. The movie "Gettysburg" was good, too, although not quite at the same level. It offers different, more visceral experiences, but has a touch too much Hollywood for perfection, I'd say.
Wow, Craig, yet another thing you and Rick seem to have in common -- go figure! ;) He told me last night Mort Kuntstler has been one of his favorite artists since he was old enough to have a concept of what that was.
"One of my favorite things (surprise, surprise) is your musings on the painting with the southern belle."
I loved that too! When Donna came and said she wanted to show me something and led me in to indicate that painting and mention her interpretation of it, I immediately thought she should write about it. ;) It was such a privilege to witness -- she simply saw a painting and a whole story seemed to spring to life!
What a great time, Donna...thanks again.
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