Books | Author Suzanne Adair

The Fadoodlin’ Etymology of Sex

Posted on August 14, 2018 by suzanneadairAugust 14, 2018

Relevant History welcomes internationally renowned author Ellen Notbohm, whose work has informed, inspired and delighted millions in more than twenty languages. In addition to her award-winning novel The River by Starlight and her perennially popular books on autism, her articles and columns on such diverse subjects as history, genealogy, baseball, writing and community affairs have appeared in major publications and captured audiences on every continent. Ellen is an avid genealogist, knitter, beachcomber, and thrift store hound who has never knowingly walked by a used bookstore without going in and dropping coin. To learn more about her and her books, visit her web site, and follow her on Facebook, Twitter, LinkedIn, and Pinterest.

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The question comes up at every reading and book club: how and where did you research? And the answer is a historical fiction echo of Johnny Cash: I’ve been everywhere, man. My research for The River by Starlight and its based-on-real-life protagonists Annie and Adam Fielding sent me across eleven states and four provinces, through the doors of seventeen libraries and archives, and cyber-consulting twenty-seven more. I thought of it as a treasure hunt, unearthing vital statistics, school, military, prison, cemetery, land, court, census, immigration, naturalization, and theological records. Voter registration. Business licenses. Insurance policies. County and state fair entries.

For historical fiction authors, our drive for accuracy in the smallest details can border on obsessive. But after ten years in hot pursuit of those details, the resource that honed my manuscript’s voice to its finest edge of historical authenticity was a human, not a repository: an eagle-eyed editor with an exuberant love of etymology.

For scenes taking place between 1910 and 1921, I’d already caught early-draft anachronisms like surreal and radar. But my editor caught upwards of a dozen more. Who knew that no one shushed anyone until 1925, that place mats and drop cloths weren’t called such until 1928, that “dust mop” didn’t come along until 1953? That little girls didn’t wear their hair in a “ponytail” and jokes didn’t have a “punch line” until 1916. Jeepers! Whoops—that interjection wasn’t around until 1927.

Blue language: some things old, something things new
But most amusing was how many of her etymological catches had to do with that universally intriguing and bestselling subject: sex. And it offered a fascinating dichotomy: as we delved into the origins of blue language (an expression dating to 1840), we learned that words we think of as contemporary may go back centuries, while words we think of as vintage are in fact relatively contemporary.

Our etymological sex education started when Adam, in a 1911 scene, needed a sarcastic simile to express his contented state of mind to a bartender. “I’m happier than a baby in a barrel of tits,” he explains, which my editor flagged for revision: Teats was in use as early as the 13th century, titties dates back to 1746, but tits didn’t come into usage until 1928. Later in the story, another character’s reference to diddies was revised to diddeys, per Merriam-Webster.

On rolls the story to where, in the face of relentless physical and mental health issues with Annie’s pregnancies in the 1910s, the couple is advised to consider using rubbers. “The condom sense of this word dates only to the 1930s,” said my editor, suggesting maybe I should revert to condom (1706). I hauled out my (highly entertaining) file of early condom advertisements, and noted that while all the packages used the terms rubber prophylactics or protectives, none used the word condom. Further research revealed that the, um, contents of a condom were the origin of one of today’s favorite insults, scumbag (1939). We settled on rubber sheath (1861).

Later still, Annie finds her virtue questioned by a mental hospital patient who hurls the insult, “Slattern!” (1630s). Not one to go quietly, Annie returns a fusillade of loose-woman epithets. Up went the editor’s flag. Seems that harlot (ca 1200), strumpet (ca 1300), trollop (1610s), hussy (1650s), and floozy (1902) were appropriate to the 1918 scene, but tramp met with the delete button because its meaning “promiscuous woman” dates only to 1922.

Surely things would mellow out for our heroine as she overcomes extreme adversity, settles into a placid spell, and can enjoy some long-overdue tender lovemaking. But no. Said my intrepid editor, “While this word has been around since the fifteenth century, its original sense was of courtship. As a euphemism for ‘have sex,’ it is attested only from c. 1950.” Disgruntled Author changed it to coupling (late 1300s), muttering that it sounds too much like hardware.

Charting word usage through time
Frequency of usage is also a factor in historical authenticity. Tools like Google Ngram use charts to visually depict word usage over centuries. Here we can see just how much that usage of the f-bomb, that ultimate in sexually-charged verbs, now turned everyday adjective, has increased—by a whopping (1620s) 23,000% since 1950. Before that it had nearly flatlined since 1820 or so, hence it pops up only once in dialogue in The River by Starlight—as an unintended double entendre, with great impact bestowed by its rarity.

But our free-wheeling contemporary use of the f-word doesn’t hold a fadoodlin’ (1611) candle to our bawdy ancestors, who in the mid-1600s used it at twice the rate we do today.

Hubba-hubba (1944)!

Resources:
o Online Etymology
o Merriam-Webster’s Collegiate Dictionary (11th edition), Merriam-Webster Unabridged (website)
o A Dictionary of Slang and Colloquial English, Abridged from the Seven-volume Work, Entitled: Slang and Its Analogues (Farmer & Henley, 1905)
o Dictionary of American Regional English (Belknap Press of Harvard University Press, 1985)

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A big thanks to Ellen Notbohm. She’ll give away a trade paperback copy of The River by Starlight to someone who contributes a comment on my blog this week. I’ll choose the winner from among those who comment by Friday at 6 p.m. ET. Delivery is available in the U.S. only.

Did you like what you read? Learn about downloads, discounts, and special offers from Relevant History authors and Suzanne Adair. Subscribe to Suzanne’s free newsletter.

Unlocking the Secrets of Historic American Cities with Sanborn Fire Insurance Maps

Posted on July 31, 2018 by suzanneadairJuly 31, 2018

Relevant History welcomes Ana Brazil, author of the historical mystery Fanny Newcomb and the Irish Channel Ripper (Sand Hill Review Press) and winner of the Independent Book Publishers Association 2018 Gold Medal for Historical Fiction. Ana explored the historic houses of Virginia as a teenager, earned her Master’s degree in American history from Florida State University, and traveled her way through Mississippi as an architectural historian. She also spent one very long, very hot summer in New Orleans researching content for her Master’s thesis. Ana, her husband, and her dog Traveller live in the beautiful Oakland foothills. To learn more about her and her books, visit her web site, and follow her on Facebook, Twitter, Goodreads, and Pinterest.

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I’ve always been attracted to cities. Not humongous, out-of-control, no-place-to-walk-or-breathe-in cities, but gentler, gracious, and smile-when-you-meet-new-people cities. Southern cities like Tallahassee, Vicksburg, and New Orleans.

When I wrote my debut historical mystery Fanny Newcomb and the Irish Channel Ripper, I worked hard to make sure that I presented the historical environment of 1889 New Orleans correctly. I walked around the Irish Channel neighborhood, photographed all kinds of buildings, toured St. Alphonsus and St. Mary Catholic Churches, and, of course, shopped as much as possible in the boutiques of historic Magazine Street!

I wanted to make sure that I described the buildings, banquettes, electric streetlights (yes, they existed), and streets traveled by the mule-driven streetcars as accurately as possible.

I also dug into the newspapers, city directories, and city “booster” materials from the period. And as a final way to understand the physical environment of 1889 New Orleans—to make sure that I didn’t locate a house of prostitution where a church existed, or sink Charity Hospital into a drainage canal—I explored the city through the Sanborn Fire Insurance maps (aka “Sanborn maps”).

What are Sanborn maps?
I’m so glad that you asked! From 1866 to the mid-1960’s, the Sanborn Map Publishing Company of New York City created complex footprint maps of approximately 13,000 American cities. Fire insurance companies used these maps to estimate the fire risks for individual buildings and decide how much to charge the building owners for fire insurance.

I was introduced to Sanborn maps when I worked as an architectural historian for the Mississippi Department of Archives. My job was to evaluate and nominate historic buildings and places for inclusion in the National Register of Historic Places. The Sanborn maps were vitally helpful.

Although Sanborn maps are a treasure trove for architectural historians, historians, and historical novelists, that’s not where their value ends. If you’re an archaeologist, genealogist, realtor, public works employee, or geographer, you can use these maps to unlock the secrets of your city, neighborhood, block, or building.

All you need is a key
Every group of city maps had a “key” similar to the one in this image. Once you understood the key, you could understand everything about the buildings on the map.

As this example of New Orleans’ French Opera House shows, the maps displayed the footprints of building (to scale), building materials used (red=brick, yellow=frame, blue=stone), existing firewall information, locations of available water reservoirs, other buildings in the area, and whether the building had a watchman. Just to name a few of the map attributes.

This information—about how people lived, worked, and entertained themselves—cannot be found anywhere else! And these are the types of details that I love to use when creating my historical fiction.

When I began writing Fanny Newcomb and the French Quarter Laudanum Lover—the (in-progress) second book in my Fanny Newcomb trilogy—I wanted to understand more about New Orleans’ historic French Quarter. Specifically, I wanted to know where the Italian restaurants, drug stores, tobacco manufacturers, and “female boarding” houses (an oft-used Sanborn map euphemism for houses of prostitution) were located in the late 1880’s.

This image displays what I call the “big view,” which shows some of areas that were surveyed by the Sanborn Company. The “42” in pink refers to Page 42 of the book and is the location of part of the French Quarter from Jackson Square and St. Louis Cathedral to Canal Street.

Here is a close-up image of part of Page 42 showing Jackson Square on the bottom center and St. Louis Cathedral above it. Most of the buildings and green spaces shown in this map still exist, although their uses have changed. But look at some of these 19th century uses!

Cooper shop
Carpenter
Snuff and fine cut tobacco factory
State arsenal
Gun & locksmith
Paints & oils

All of these building uses contribute to the flavor of New Orleans 1889. It would have been impossible to understand “the business of Jackson Square” without a Sanborn map.

Although I did find a tobacco manufacturer in this area, there were no Italian restaurants or drug stores. And—mostly likely because of the Cathedral, Courts, and Police Station in the vicinity—there were no female boarding houses in this area of the French Quarter. Although there were many, many female boarding houses just blocks away from Jackson Square.

I hope this short tour through late 19th century New Orleans illuminates the importance of historic Sanborn maps, how fun they are to look at, and how much they can tell you about your chosen locale! To make your foray into Sanborn maps as easy as possible, the Library of Congress—owner of the largest collection of Sanborn maps—has made their maps available online. In addition, many university libraries throughout the United States own sets of Sanborn maps (bound in books which can weigh up to 30 pounds!) and—once you put on a pair of white gloves—you can research directly in those books.

One more bit of good news: in the late 18th century, insurance companies began mapping the buildings of London, and other countries also have their share of “Sanborn-equivalent” city maps. But since Gilded Age New Orleans is my city, I’ll have to let another Relevant History blogger share the secrets of other city maps with you.

Note: All Sanborn map screenshots in this post are courtesy of the Library of Congress.

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A big thanks to Ana Brazil! She’ll give away a 13 oz. can of New Orleans’ Cafe du Monde’s French Roast Coffee and a Kindle ebook copy of Fanny Newcomb and the Irish Channel Ripper to someone who contributes a comment on my blog this week. I’ll choose the winner from among those who comment by Friday at 6 p.m. ET. Delivery is available in the U.S. only.

Did you like what you read? Learn about downloads, discounts, and special offers from Relevant History authors and Suzanne Adair. Subscribe to Suzanne’s free newsletter.

Those Dastardly Smuggling Gangs

Posted on July 3, 2018 by suzanneadairJuly 3, 2018

Relevant History welcomes back Helen Hollick, who lives in Devon, England and has been published for many years with her Arthurian Trilogy and the 1066 era. She became a ‘USA Today’ bestseller with her novel about Queen Emma, The Forever Queen (UK: A Hollow Crown.) She also writes the “Sea Witch Voyages,” pirate-based adventures with a touch of fantasy. Her non-fiction book about pirates and smugglers will be published in 2019. To learn more about her and her books, visit her web site, blog, and historical fiction review blog, and follow her on Twitter.

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We see the smugglers of yesteryear portrayed in fiction, movies and TV dramas as small groups of local fisher-folk from picturesque coastal villages intent on making an extra penny to keep their starving families alive. Or we have the nasty ruffian out to bully his vulnerable young nephew into breaking the law by smuggling a keg of brandy, using a somewhat leaky old boat. Images which are true to a point. But only to a point.

The Trade, the Big Money Makers were far from this romantic view of the seventeenth- and eighteenth-century smuggler. The gangs were vicious thugs, organised by efficient leaders who were the Mafia equivalent of their day.

These ‘smuggling companies’ operated along the south-east coasts of England. Not the fictional image of a rugged Cornish cove as in Poldark—the West Country did have its smugglers but they operated in a very different style.

Members of these gangs were not always seamen but landsmen based along the roads leading to London and the larger towns. Seamen brought the cargo in, the gangs collected and dispersed it. If there was trouble from the Revenue Men, the gangs were ready for them. They were comprised of up fifty men, although for larger ‘runs’ this could increase to two or three hundred men if gangs united. The Revenue, by comparison, were ill-informed, undermanned, under-armed and under-paid men. They rarely had any hope of intervening, let alone putting a stop to these formidable opponents, especially when a run had bodyguards wielding stout ash poles for protection. (Think Robin Hood and Little John’s quarterstaff.)

When smuggling began to deplete the purses of the government and the wealthy, something had to be done. By the 1780s the militia and customs men were equipped with better firearms, better ships, and more reliable ‘intelligence,’ which meant they were able to thwart gangs and seize contraband. But the gangs were a tough lot. Well-armed, rough, ruthless men who ensured potential informers kept quiet. Permanently.

The gangs
Several of the gangs had interesting nicknames: ‘Yorkshire George,’ ‘The Miller,’ ‘Old Joll,’ ‘Towzer,’ ‘Flushing Jack’ and ‘Nasty Face.’ These nicknames were used among smugglers and highwaymen not as terms of friendship but to hide a true identity.

The Colonel of Bridport Gang from Dorset were led by ‘The Colonel.’ One contraband cargo was nearly intercepted by the revenue and had to be sunk in the sea to hide it. Alas, it drifted ashore not far from West Bay, to the delight of the locals who claimed the cargo. The Colonel’s gang were successful and never caught. They supplied the Bridport and Lyme Bay taverns with French liquor.

The Groombridge Gang were named for a village west of Tunbridge Wells and were active from about 1730. The Groombridge Gang was first mentioned in a 1733 legal document when thirty men were bringing a cargo of tea inland using fifty horses. Militiamen challenged them but, outnumbered, were disarmed and marched for four hours at gunpoint until the cargo was delivered,, when the militiamen were set free unharmed, but on oath not to renew their interfering. An oath which was not kept!

The North Kent Gang worked from Ramsgate to the River Medway. In 1820 their violent methods increased when blockade-men discovered them bringing in contraband. A fight followed with one officer seriously injured, but the gang got away with the cargo. During the spring of 1821, forty gang members gathered at Herne Bay to land a cargo, protected by twenty men armed with bats and pistols. Unfortunately, these batsmen had enjoyed too much pre-run ‘hospitality’ at a nearby inn. Led by Midshipman Snow, the blockade-men appeared drawn by the noise the drunken smugglers were making. Eighteen smugglers were arrested. Four were hanged, with the others transported to Tasmania.

The two worst gangs
The Northover Gang were from Dorset and named for their leaders. In December 1822 preventative-men, Forward and Tollerway, were on patrol and discovered the smugglers, three of whom dropped the kegs they were carrying and fled. Tollerway guarded the abandoned contraband while Forward seized more kegs after firing his pistol to summon help, but the gang surrounded him. Tollerway ran to give assistance, and fighting broke out. The gang leader, James Northover Junior, was subsequently arrested when assistance arrived and was sentenced to fourteen months in gaol. He served time twice more, and then impressed into the Royal Navy in 1827 for another offence.

The Hawkhurst Gang. Hawkhurst is ten miles inland from the Kent and East Sussex coast. Between 1735–1749, the gang became known as the most feared in all England. They smuggled in silk, brandy and tobacco with up to five-hundred men able to assist when required. The gang joined the Wingham Gang in 1746 to bring ashore twelve tons of tea (a lot of tea!) but attacked their partners and made off with the tea and several valuable horses. Despite the benefits of smuggling, villagers grew fed-up with the increasing violence, and a retaliation was made in April 1747. Confident of their influence, the gang marched into the village not expecting to meet an army of people determined to stop the bullying. One of the gang’s hierarchy, George Kingsmill, was shot dead and is buried in Goudhurst churchyard. His brother, Thomas, was hanged at Tyburn in London with his body returned to Kent to rot on the gallows. Does his ghost linger there I wonder?

*****

A big thanks to Helen Hollick!

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A Masked Pimpernel: Alexander Peden, Devout Preacher and Religious Rebel

Posted on June 19, 2018 by suzanneadairJune 19, 2018

Relevant History welcomes back Anna Belfrage, who, had she been allowed to choose, would have become a time-traveller. As this was impossible, she became a financial professional with two absorbing interests: history and writing. Anna has authored the acclaimed time … Continue reading →

The History of Wine in Los Angeles

Posted on June 5, 2018 by suzanneadairJune 5, 2018

Relevant History welcomes back Anne Louise Bannon, who wrote her first novel at age fifteen. Her journalistic work has appeared in Ladies’ Home Journal, The Los Angeles Times, Wines and Vines, and in newspapers across the country. She created the OddBallGrape.com wine education blog with her husband, Michael Holland, and is the co-author of Howdunit: Book of Poisons, with Serita Stevens, as well as author of the “Freddie and Kathy” mystery series, set in the 1920s, and the “Operation Quickline” series and Tyger, Tyger. She and her husband live in Southern California with an assortment of critters. For more information about her and her books, visit her web site, and follow her on Facebook and Twitter.

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The fun thing about my latest novel, Death of the Zanjero, is that it really couldn’t take place anywhere but in Los Angeles, California, or at any time but in the 19th century. Okay, I could have pushed it to the early 20th century, but by then, the odds were not good that the body of the Zanjero (or water overseer) would come floating up as the sluice gate opened to a rancho’s zanja (irrigation ditch). Lots of places, even as far away as New Mexico, had zanjas for irrigation and zanjeros overseeing them. But they didn’t have the wine industry that Los Angeles did—one that predates wineries in Livermore and the Napa Valley.

Yes, you read that right. California’s wine industry actually began in Los Angeles. There were older vineyards in Arizona and other Spanish outposts. That’s because they needed wine to celebrate Mass, and making your own was somewhat easier than importing it from Spain. And, in the late 18th century, when Father Junipero Serra and company started trekking up Alta California, leaving the twenty-one missions behind, it only made sense to plant olives and grapes.

Spanish wines
I have heard it said that the reason the padres mostly planted a supposedly inferior variety that we know today as the mission grape was that the government in Spain didn’t want New World wines competing with theirs. That does not entirely make sense to me, but the mission grape was certainly plentiful, and the padres used it to make a fortified wine that resembled Jerez, or sherry. The version they made in what became Los Angeles was one they called angelica.

Now, Los Angeles was founded in 1781, and that’s presumably when the first vineyards were planted. But what really got the industry part of the pueblo going is when the appropriately-named Jean Louis Vignes, a Frenchman, first brought French varieties, such as cabernet sauvignon and others, and decided that an area just to the west of the river (now downtown Los Angeles) would be perfect for growing them. He later sold his business to his nephews, the Sainsevain brothers. Another man, Matthew Keller, planted out a good bit of what is now Malibu. By the 1840s, San Francisco and Napa were importing grapes and wines from Los Angeles. Not much changed when the Americans took over in 1850 and California became a U.S. state.

How this affects my novel
I ended up setting Death of the Zanjero in 1870 because I did not want to deal with the Civil War (although the city remained a hotbed of Confederate sympathizers). I chose winemaking as a profession for my main character, Maddie Wilcox, because my husband and I are passionate about wine and we both found the wine history of our local area fascinating. Around that time, about 3,000 acres were planted with vineyards, and upwards of 5,000 acres, if you count the Anaheim Colony, which was part of Los Angeles County at the time and later became Orange County.

It wasn’t the biggest crop by any means. In 1880, there were 10,000 acres of the notoriously hard to grow wheat across the county, 60,000 acres of corn, and 90,000 acres of barley. Oranges, which were to play a much larger role in how our community grew, were there, but not in any significant force. According to the same 1880 history of the county that I got the above numbers from, there were around 34,000 oranges trees in all of the county, with roughly 200 trees per acre, that makes 170 acres of what would become our signature crop.

The end of the vineyards
So, what happened? The railroads. In the middle of the 1870s, Henry Huntington and his pals started building steam engine railroads that connected Los Angeles to the rest of the country. This did two things. One, it opened up the market for oranges because you could finally ship them cross-country to the more heavily populated east before the fruit spoiled. Two, it brought people to Los Angeles. In 1870, there were roughly 5,700 people in the city of Los Angeles. In 1880, the town’s population doubled and grew at an even faster rate until by 1920, it had increased tenfold to 577,000. That’s only fifty years.

Also, in the mid-1870s, over-production caused the price of grapes to bottom out, and then the area was hit with Pierce’s Disease, which thrashed a goodly chunk of the vines. With people moving in, land became more valuable for housing than grapes. Oranges were still relatively hard to get in other parts of the country because they couldn’t be grown just anywhere, so that made them more valuable to plant. Wine grapes, not so much.

There are still wineries in Los Angeles. In fact, one of the state’s oldest, continuously running wineries, San Antonio Winery, is based here. Malibu has its own American Viticulture Area designation for its vineyards and several wineries, although that’s a very recent thing, and none of the old vineyards exist. There are even more wineries moving into the area. It’s a nice return to a formerly proud tradition—and one that made that a very fun background for a novel about a corrupt official getting murdered and the widow who finds herself trying to find whodunit.

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A big thanks to Anne Louise Bannon. She’ll give away a paperback or ebook copy of Death of the Zanjero to someone who contributes a comment on my blog this week. I’ll choose the winner from among those who comment by Friday at 6 p.m. ET. Delivery of the ebook is available worldwide. Delivery of the paperback is available within the U.S. only. Special option for a U.S. winner: In lieu of a book, and if you qualify age- and state-wise, Anne will send you a half-bottle of angelica, a delightful sherry-style wine, made from possibly the oldest vines in the state of California.

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Killer Debt Book Release 9 May 2018, and Thanks to Backers!

Posted on April 30, 2018 by suzanneadairApril 30, 2018

Killer Debt will be officially released on 9 May 2018. You’re invited to McIntyre’s Bookstore in Pittsboro, NC at 6:30 that evening to purchase your copy and hear how a subplot in the book fictionalizes one of North Carolina’s little-known historical events during 1781. Light refreshments provided.

Again, many thanks to all the wonderful folks who backed my crowdfunding campaign in March. Total raised: $1900. The following people backed the campaign at the $35 level or higher:

German Arciniegas
Martha Coleman
Beverly Gotthardt
Robert and Heather Gruber (executive producers)
Rhonda Lane
Norma Luther
Marsha McDonald
Margaret Millings
Carole Weiss
Nina N. Williams
and two people who wished to remain anonymous.

Action at the 2018 Guilford Courthouse Battle Reenactment

Posted on March 25, 2018 by suzanneadairMarch 25, 2018

Last Saturday I trekked to the annual Guilford Courthouse battle reenactment near Greensboro, North Carolina. The park is large, and between checking out the camps, sutlers, and battle, I estimate that I hiked around eight miles that day.

Fusiliers lining up in the British camp.

Video: Fusiliers executing a right wheel.

Continentals retreat with the Crown forces in pursuit and visible in the center through the trees.

Video: Two cool smoke rings from British artillery fire.

British cavalry.

Video: Final Crown forces charge.

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122% Funded — YESSS!

Posted on March 25, 2018 by suzanneadairMarch 25, 2018

My backers are the best! Thank you, and keep the love coming!

I’m running a bit behind on updates; last week I was organizing all my 2017 tax information for my accountant. Since I last posted, Ben Steelman at the Wilmington Star-News posted a great article about Killer Debt (although he misnamed my detective as “Matthew” instead of “Michael,” and the house on the front cover is actually the Nash-Hooper House in Hillsborough, NC). Also, Christine Gentes reviewed Killer Debt on her blog.

Check out these recent online interviews with me!

Courtney Carter’s blog
Destination Mystery blog
Map Your Mystery blog

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Look What UPS Just Delivered!

Posted on March 25, 2018 by suzanneadairMarch 25, 2018

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114% Funded — Wow!

Posted on March 15, 2018 by suzanneadairMarch 15, 2018

We’re halfway through the campaign and have exceeded the original goal! Many thanks to my wonderful backers and the folks who have worked magic with social media. Please keep the momentum going. Let your friends, family, and associates know about Michael Stoddard and the campaign.

Early kudos for Killer Debt are coming in. Courtney Carter writes: “A thrilling new addition to the Michael Stoddard mystery series!” Thanks, Courtney!

Check out this fun clip from a few years ago, the 33rd Light Company of Foot executing a right wheel at the annual Battle of Camden reenactment in South Carolina.

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