Frances Hunter

blog of the author To the Ends of the Earth

 

Frances Hunter's Journal
July 2006

July 28, 2006: North and South

A few years back, I read John Jakes's massive multi-generational American saga, The Kent Family Chronicles. Bristling with energy, sex, secrets, and revenge, drama and melodrama, the Kent books sweep you along from the Revolution to the Johnstown Flood with real excitement and an unbearable desire to know what happens next.

I was happy to discover that the first book of Jakes's Civil War trilogy, North and South, is cast very much in the same mold. The book follows the story of two friends who enter West Point in 1842. Orry Main is a tall, skinny son of a South Carolina rice planter. George Hazard is the tough, stocky scion of a Pennsylvania iron fortune. Bound together by the common trials and tribulations of cadets, they become fast friends. Little do "Stick" and "Stump" suspect that the forces that will tear apart their boyish friendship and the nation they're both sworn to serve.

North and South is all about conflict. Jakes does not rely soly on the onrush of the Civil War and the sectional conflict over slavery to provide the juice, but sets up innumerable flashpoints in both and between both families. Both men come from large families with troubles of their own, and a number of family members are major characters in this big fat novel. Both loving romance and sexual obsession have their roles to play, as well as matters of honor and questions of loyalty to friends, lovers, principles, and country.

Memorably, both men are afflicted with evil sisters, one a fanatical abolitionist who ends up joining John Brown's violent attempt to overthrow the government, the other a scheming sex-crazed witch obsessed with power. But the main villain is Elkanah Bent, a repulsive fellow officer who swears eternal enmity to Orry and George back in their West Point days, and continues to plague them through the Mexican War and right up to the outbreak of the Civil War, where this volume ends.

Bent is very recognizable as a typical John Jakes villain to fans of the Kent series, right down to his homosexual proclivities (which are not balanced out by any positive portrayals of gays, BTW) and his incredible, Spy vs. Spy doggedness in pursuing his hatred of the heroes to the point of perpetrating misdeeds on the next generation of their families.

I've encountered people like Bent and Orry's sister, actually--madmen/women who've conceived an insane hatred of me for no particular reason and used every means at their disposal to persecute me. But outside of the pages of a Jakes novel, such people generally do not carry on the rivalry past the time they've succeeded in blowing your dreams out of the water. They move on to new people to make miserable.

But never mind. The characters may be drawn with broad strokes, but the main figures are touched with enough flawed humanity to make you care deeply about what happens to them even as you shake your head at the improbability that so many catastrophes could befall two families. North and South is a great good time of a read that will satisfy anyone who likes their history with a whopping dose of thrills.

July 24, 2006: Where It All Began

Reconstructed cabin of George Rogers Clark. George and Billy lived here before Billy left for the Lewis & Clark Expedition.

Neat fossil beds at the Falls of the Ohio.

He pushed his bowl of stew away. The journals were all he had left of that triumphal time, and now they were in a shambles. There was no book, no manuscript. Lewis had done nothing, and it was left to him to try to put the scattered pieces back together. But if he couldn’t, it might as well never have happened. He and Lewis might as well never have gone—

And if they hadn’t gone, where would he be? Still living with George in a cabin at the Falls of the Ohio? Maybe if I were, George would still be all right—maybe he wouldn’t have lost his leg—

Angry with himself, he rejected the thought and got to his feet. To hell with it, he thought as he walked toward his cabin. He was sick and tired of cleaning up other people’s messes. To hell with George, and to hell with Lewis. I ain’t responsible for every damn thing that goes wrong in the world—

Another huge day. Today we visited the Falls of the Ohio, just a short jump from Louisville (across the George Rogers Clark bridge) to Clarksville, Indiana.

This place, an Indiana State Park, turns out to be really neat. The remarkable rapids that dominated river navigation in the early days of Louisville are now covered, but a large area remains where you can walk and see amazing fossils just lying around. I can't imagine what it must have been like 200 years ago, when George Rogers Clark selected this site for his cabin. We walked along the river amidst huge boulders and pieces of driftwood, and discovered shells and other ancient sea creatures clearly imprinted on the rocks.

In the visitor center, we saw an excellent film about the geological history of this area and how it changed over the years, including what it has meant to the people who live along the Ohio. The museum showcases interesting exhibits of dinosaur and mammoth bones and fossils as well as the human history of the area. At this place, early natural scientists, including George Rogers and William Clark, began to understand the ancient history of our planet.

When we were done looking, we took a short drive (easily walkable if it hadn't been so hot) up to Point of Rocks, which overlooks the Falls. We had a picnic lunch and shared our Chex Mix with a friendly white dog before checking out the reconstructed cabin of George Rogers Clark.

A ranger inside provided details about this rustic home, such a contrast with genteel Locust Grove. Clark's cabin is a simple place with a stone hearth and a half-floor upstairs for a bedroom. Guns and powder horns hung on the walls provide the decor. It was easy to see that George was truly penniless except for his land awarded for his Revolutionary service.

A few small exhibits highlighted his life and career, and a table was set up to show how he made globes as a pasttime. What a pity that this military genius and man of science was thrown aside by the country he helped to save.

It was from this spot that Meriwether Lewis tied up his keelboat in 1803 and took William Clark away from his life as George's caretaker and into history.

The State Library of Indiana has a great site about the archaeology of this and other George Rogers Clark sites.

Feeling awed and humbled, we careered back to Louisville and experienced the usual traffic adventure returning to the Galt House. It was super hot, so we spent what was left of the afternoon flaked out by the frigid pool.

We had a swell dinner at Deke's Marketplace Grill (now called Bistro 301). I got a delicious Hot Brown and we had Derby Pie for dessert!

A great day. I really enjoy Louisville and can't wait to return later this year.

July 19, 2006: Long Knife

Graves of the Clark brothers: George, Edmund, and Jonathan, at Cave Hill Cemetery

Locust Grove. George Rogers Clark was sheltered here by his sister in the last years of his life.

On a good day, George Rogers Clark could muster what little strength remained in his arms and push his frail body around on crutches, teetering around the house on his one remaining leg. He could no longer live on his own—the stroke and the amputation had made that decision for him—but on a good day, he could move himself from his bed to the door leading to the front porch at Locust Grove, the fine home owned by his sister Lucy and her husband. Once there, he could collapse into the big, comfortable chair his sister had provided for him, and spend the day drowsing, dreaming, and watching the traffic to and from the growing city he had founded thirty years earlier.

Today was not a good day.

If you want to learn a lot about the Clark family, Louisville, Kentucky is the place to visit. We spent two full days here in 2004 and didn't even cover all the Clarkiana there is to experience. We're planning another trip later this year that will focus on the campaigns of George Rogers Clark. I love Louisville and already can't wait!

Our first morning here we had a leisurely breakfast at the hotel and then picked up the fixings for a picnic lunch. Then we made our way to Cave Hill Cemetery, not far from downtown. We had a nice chat with a customer representative at the cemetery about our interest in Lewis & Clark and the upcoming book, and he directed us to the gravesite of George Rogers Clark.

The "Hannibal of the West" is buried here along with his brothers Edmund and Jonathan (also a general in the Revolution), Jonathan's wife Sarah, and a number of other family members. The graves are well-tended and marked with fading tributes from the DAR. We left our Texas flags for the brothers and felt grateful for their service (often thankless) to America.

With courage undaunted, we launched ourselves into Louisville traffic, and made it over to Locust Grove, the historic home of William and Lucy Clark Croghan and the last home of George Rogers Clark. The Clarks and Croghans were among the leading families of old Louisville and the neighborhood surrounding Locust Grove is still very fine. Zachary Taylor grew up next door.

We had a nice picnic outside before starting our tour with a short film about George and the house. The tour itself was one of the best house tours we've ever experienced. We were the only people to join Gene, a talkative and very knowledgable older gent who spent a good hour taking us in each room of the Georgian manor built by the Croghans in the 1790s. Upstairs the Croghans had a ballroom where Lewis and Clark displayed their discoveries after the Expedition in 1806. It must have been a proud day for the Clarks to see "Billy" in his hour of triumph.

It was easy to get a sense of the family eating, talking, sleeping, and living in this genteel but informal place. Lots of hard work went on here too. William Croghan was one of Louisville's most successful businessmen, and the Croghans owned more than 50 slaves, about whom not much is known.

In search of York no more

After George became disabled in 1809, he came to live with Lucy, his younger sister. We saw the downstairs bedroom where he stayed and the porch where he liked to sit and watch the world go by. It was sad to think about the bitterness that engulfed this great American in his later years, but at least he was always loved, cherished, and protected by the fiercely loving Clarks.

After the tour, we looked at the exhibits, highlighted by a great quilled hunting shirt once owned by George. Great gift shop here!

Tonight we had a pleasant dinner at a Mexican place called Las Aztecas. Strolled home via the Belevedere, a plaza that overlooks the mighty Ohio. Here a dashing statue of George leading you into the West has been joined by a great new statue of York. I couldn't help but chuckle at the thought of William Clark being galled at this overdue tribute to his slave, now remembered as a pioneering African-American.

July 13, 2006: Bear 1996-2006

Ten years ago, almost to the day, we got Bear. Our hearts were sad at the loss of our long-time bunny Hoppy, and we decided to go to Tomlinson's Pets on Airport to look for a new little friend. We saw the cutest tiny little baby bunny playing with his brothers and sisters. He was a golden tortoiseshell with the most adorable dark nose. The store clerk got him out and we got to cuddle him. Right away we knew he was ours.

We didn't know he was Bear yet. After we wanted to call him Pancho, but somehow the name didn't fit -- even though this new little bunny was a rascal who liked to chew up telephone books and ran away in the first few days we had him! Then one day we noticed that he looked like a Gund stuffed teddy bear. After that he was eternally Bear.

Bear was his own man. He didn't like to stand up, race and chase, or dance like some bunnies. Instead, Bear liked to find cool quiet places where he could hang out all day and smell the flowers. He may have been more reserved than most bunnies, but that's not to say that he was docile or obedient. Bear loved to give a merry chase to his owners when it came time to get back in his cage. Once settled in, though, he was the most cuddly of all bunnies, content to sit and be petted for hours. No one ever found the upper limit for his patience for petting. He was the only bunny we ever had who would pass up on a food treat for more petting. As he grew older, he liked to groom me back, licking my leg with his little pencil-eraser tongue to show his esteem. Reciprocity was very important to Bear -- it meant a lot to him to give back.

He loved kale, carrots, and Italian parsley. When he was old a friend gave him some Kaytee tropical mix as a get-well present from a tooth-trimming. Next to the petting, it became the highlight of his day.

Bear lived in three different houses and adapted to three different yards and places to sleep. The last time, four years ago, he had just lost his eyesight to cataracts. The timing was really bad, and for a while we thought Bear might simply let himself fade away. Then one day he began to hop around the new place, feeling his way with his whiskers, learning his way around. With a little help and extra protection, Bear was soon enjoying his new house and yard as much as ever before.

Bear was a profile in courage about his many age-related problems. His calmness and stoicism in the face of blindness, arthritis, a long-term nasal infection, and losing one of his beautiful long ears to cancer put many humans to shame. He simply accepted whatever came his way and moved on, ready to look for the good in life and spend time with his friends.

Bear had a change late in his life. For a few weeks last fall, a very young bunny named Lance who was a hurricane refugee came to stay at our house. Lance had an aggressive personality and let Bear know in a hurry, "Move over, old man -- there's a new kid in town." Then one day, Bear beat him up. We still don't know how this aged, blind, and tiny old bunny got the better of a spunky young buck like Lance. We had always thought Bear was too gentle and laid-back to fight. It turned out that he had simply never been challenged. The old man would fight to defend what he had.

Having shown Lance the door, Bear was much more welcoming to another shelter bunny, Flower, a gentle plus-sized girl who showed him the proper respect. They were sweet and companionable to each other.

When it came time to form our own publishing company early this year, Bear lent his persona to Blind Rabbit Press.

On Monday, June 26, Bear passed away in the aftermath of a stroke. He was 10 years old.

All that gay courageous cheer,
All that human pathos dear;
Soul-fed eyes with suffering worn,
Pain heroically borne,
Faithful love in depth divine--
Poor Matthias, were they thine?

Here he pour'd his little soul,
Heard the murmur of the Mole,
Eight in number now the years
He hath pleased our eyes and ears;
Other favourites he hath known
Go, and now himself is gone.

--Fare thee well, companion dear!
Fare for ever well, nor fear,
Tiny though thou art, to stray
Down the uncompanion'd way!
We without thee, little friend,
Many years have not to spend;
What are left, will hardly be
Better than we spent with thee.

from Poor Matthias, by Matthew Arnold, 1882

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