Civil War

There’s a common saying (and belief) that Washington, D.C. was built on a swamp. While that’s not actually the case, it is true that the District’s rivers and tributaries—and the surrounding marshland—have caused some problems in the past. In the nineteenth century, the low-lying area around the National Mall and Tidal Basin was the perfect breeding ground for one of the largest public health concerns at the time: mosquitoes. One enterprising doctor had a very inventive solution.

Mrs. Mary E. Surratt was a Confederate sympathizer living in the heart of the Union during the Civil War. Her boardinghouse served as the meeting place for the group of conspirators who plotted to assassinate Lincoln. According to the military commission who tried her, she was part of plot. But how much did she really know?

The Senate has adjourned for the day, and the legislators, journalists, and visitors that had filled the chamber file out into the warm evening. Massachusetts Senator Charles Sumner, a well-known abolitionist, remains at his desk, scribbling notes among his spread of papers. A stranger approaches him from the aisle. He is holding a cane with a knobbed golden head. Leaning over, he reproaches Sumner for disparaging a relative of his in a speech given several days prior. Sumner still does not know who is speaking to him.

It is May 22, 1856, and as the stranger raises the cane over his head, America lurches closer to civil war.

You've heard of the Freemasons.  You may have heard of the Illuminati.  Secret societies are finding it harder to stay secret in our surveillance-saturated world.  In 1864, a former schoolteacher from middle-of-nowhere Michigan arrived in the nation's capital.  Justus Henry Rathbone sought to create a secret society that would heal the nation's divisions after the Civil War.  There was just one thing.  His not-so-secret society glowed in the national spotlight once presidents from Lincoln to FDR found out about it.

Legend tells of a beast that flies over Middletown, Maryland looking for prey to drag back to its lair on Catoctin Mountain. The creature, a half-bird half-reptile, had “huge wings, a long pointed tail, occasionally a horn, one eye in the middle of its forehead and, strangest of all, octopuslike tentacles that trailed behind it like streamers and retracted like a cat’s claws.” It came to be known as the Snallygaster and supposedly, it had a taste for human flesh…and a particular group of people above all others.

Weeks after the bloodiest day of the American Civil War, a remarkably preserved human arm was allegedly discovered near the Antietam Battlefield. After several decades and a series of owners, the arm was anonymously donated to a Frederick, Maryland museum. The identity of the person who lost the arm remains a mystery, but cutting edge research into the arm has a lot to say about the experience of Civil War soldiers.

Half a century after the Civil War, Southerners were trying to change what the country remembered about the rebellion, including the realities of slavery. One way that they did this was by putting up monuments all over the United States glorifying Confederate heroes and "faithful slaves." While dozens of memorials and statues were erected, one in Washington, D.C. fortunately never came to fruition.

160 years ago, the only Civil War battle fought inside the District of Columbia nearly determined the fate of the nation. On July 11-12, 1864, Confederate forces under the command of Lieutenant General Jubal Early advanced down the 7th Street Pike (today Georgia Avenue, NW) and squared off against a motley crew of Union defenders garrisoned at Fort Stevens, one of the dozens of forts and batteries ringing the capital.

War is hell, so they say.  But nobody told Washington's elite in July 1861, when politicians armed with picnic baskets and champagne came to watch the first battle of the Civil War, and nearly got killed as a result.

For decades, a community of Black Washingtonians built their homes on Fort Reno, a former Civil War fort in Northwest. But a group of lawmakers, White community members, and real estate developers united to remove Reno residents from their homes. The demise of Reno City wasn't an accident--and it might've been planned from the community's inception.