"Open face" by Ted Anderson
by M. A. Cohen
This year marks the 150th anniversary of the American Civil War, which began in 1861 and ended in 1865. SinceCaliforniahad something to do with starting the war between North and South, I became interested in comparing those days to ours and Googled local museums I could visit. Then, I got distracted.
It was a warm Saturday morning in July. I relaxed over a cup of coffee, reading a book called “Loneliness” by John T. Cacioppo and William Patrick. The book was referred to me by my youngest son, a college student. He learned a lot about human nature while studying the book for a psychology class. I too became fascinated, hardly noticing the sun burning higher in the cool blue sky. Another good beach day, but not an easy one for parking anywhere close, so, I kept reading. When I finally raised my head, it was already 10:30 a.m. My husband was getting a haircut and my other son, the boomerang college graduate, was away for the weekend. I had the house to myself, a perfect time to race around, dust rag and floor mop in hand without anyone underfoot. But to stay indoors on such a day? Anyone living along the coast has to be scared stiff that any time now the heavy fog will roll back in and linger relentlessly like it did all last summer.
“I’ve got to get out!” I thought. If the freeways were clear, I could make it toWilmingtonfrom my home inHermosa Beachfor a tour at the Civil War Drum Barracks and theBanningResidenceMuseumafter that.
It’s cause for celebration when the freeways are nearly empty, almost — dare I say — lonely? Where was everyone? I drove to the old barracks in 20 minutes – arriving just in time, yet taking long enough to reflect on the book I’d been reading. I followed the guide into the first room of the only surviving house of the Drum Barracks, which originally comprised 22 buildings of Union officers’ and soldiers’ quarters, a hospital, and structures for supplies. While the only male in our group was interested in the Gatling gun on big wheels, which could fire more than 350 rounds per minute, I studied the display of brightly painted figurines of Indian scouts who helped the Union army keep track of the Confederates’ movement. Why would native Indians get involved in our civil war? By then, Indians had disappeared in large numbers, killed in fights with American and European invaders or dead of their diseases. I remembered the “Loneliness” authors point out that isolation threatens our sense of purpose. Is it possible that the few remaining Indians were experiencing that? As a scout for the army, one now had some purpose, some value, and perhaps therefore, some camaraderie among American troops.
The tour continued upstairs to the soldiers’ sleeping quarters. One room displayed crude bunk beds lined against two walls. Tall windows filled the room with light. In the center were folding chairs around a barrel where men might have played cards and eaten their most common food, a biscuit made from flour, salt, and water that was so hard it undoubtedly led to its name — hardtack. Neatly folded on the bed were blue woolen Union uniforms that came in only four sizes. I pictured a young soldier alone in his bunk while I viewed a collection of personal belongings one usually carried, like a flask, fountain pen, small inkbottle, hardtack and a sepia toned photo of loved ones. Loneliness still on my brain, I remembered it causes actual physical pain for humans as well as some animals because of the way we evolved. For example, we feel pain if we get too close to fire. Similarly, we feel pain from too much isolation. It became a warning signal to stay close to the group where we could better protect one another. I pondered this with regard to my imaginary soldier’s life. The barracks were surrounded by nothing but acres of cattle ranches dating back to early Spanish pastoral days. I saw him to be about my son’s age, staring out the window at the parched, desolate land and back at the photo of his family. He probably felt the pain of loneliness.
“Nah,” I concluded. More than likely, any signs of suffering would have been from a hangover, losing at cards, a steady diet of hardtack, or having to wear an ill-fitting, itchy uniform.
While Civil War soldiers might never have predicted our system of fast-moving, interwoven freeways, it’s easy for us to imagine an officer on horseback – but try camels! Our guide pointed to an old photo someone had miraculously found on eBay of a camel parked among a few men and horses in front of none other than the Drum Barracks. Starting in 1855, camels were imported by ship from North Africa andTurkeyto the San Pedro harbor, not far from the barracks. In June 1861, troops used them to carry shiploads of military equipment and supplies between forts and 20 miles from the harbor toLos Angeles.
Camels were thought to be stronger than horses in desert conditions like ours and able to store water longer. However, there was one important difference. Their hooves seemed to be made for sand. Finding it difficult to traverse our dusty, mud-caked soil, soldiers tended to drive them harder and the camels grew stubborn – nasty even. They’d bite. Perhaps, coming from so far to a foreign country, separation anxiety caused their antisocial behavior, but I don’t think so. It seems the camels simply rebelled. The use of camels didn’t last inSouthern California.
TheBanningResidenceMuseum, built by Phineas Banning in 1864, is up the street from the Drum Barracks. Both historical structures are smack in the middle of a quiet, cozy neighborhood. Looking downBanning Boulevardin the opposite direction as I left the barracks, I was surprised to see the tiptops of cranes jutting up over modest sun-drenched houses. ThePortofLos Angeleswas that close down below the cliff. Driving towardsBanningPark, I found the museum, a stately Greek Revival white house set back, partially hidden under leafy green trees.
The importance of Phineas Banning to the development of the harbor and the Drum Barracks is remarkable. He arrived at this harbor at an opportune time in 1850 at the age of 21 fromWilmington,Delaware– yes,Wilmington, the city’s namesake.Californiawas admitted to theUnionthat year. Since the discovery of gold in northernCaliforniain 1848, the westward movement was on and San Pedro’s population of 1,600 was rapidly growing. Banning was a major force in developing the harbor and stagecoach transportation from it for people and freight. Banning became wealthy, yet there was cause for concern.
Some historians say the Civil War actually began withCalifornia’s statehood. Northern and Southern States in the Union vehemently opposed one another on the issue of slavery, but there was an equal balance of power in the Senate between “free” and “slave” states – that is untilCaliforniaasked to be admitted as a “free” state.
With the Civil War imminent, Banning knew he had to protect the harbor. Confederate sympathizers were everywhere. If they took it over, what would keep them from fighting forCalifornia’s land and gold too? So Phineas and his partner, B. D.Wilson, sold the land where the Drum Barracks were built to the Union army for one dollar. The California Column that was supplied and trained there helped stop the Confederates inArizonaandNew Mexicofrom advancing any further.
The tour of Banning’s home began in the front parlor. Once again, I tried to imagine life in those days. Banning’s first wife bore him 9 children of whom only three lived. She died in childbirth. Though she didn’t have many years to enjoy this majestic, rambling 3-story house, I don’t think loneliness was ever her problem.
Banning’s second wife, Mary Hollister, could easily have been lonely, but she was clever. There was no education for women in thislandofSpanishranchos and it was unadvisable for anyone to go out alone for fear of having one’s horse and cart stolen. (I wonder if anyone ever stole a camel). Under the circumstances, Mary was pretty much confined to her home, but she found a way to keep her enterprising husband around, besides having her children, stepchildren, and multi-ethnic servants to manage. Mary promised him that she would turn over her parlor for use as his office, to which he agreed. Cacioppo and Patrick’s book “Loneliness” says that feeling lonely and depressed is simply a call to repair social connections. “Obviously, Mary understood,” I thought, admiring the parlor she had moved to an upstairs bedroom. Luxurious Victorian furniture was arranged with a china tea set ready to receive guests who might travel the 2-1/2 hours fromLos Angelesto visit and spend the night rather than make the long trip home in the same day.
From the tour guide’s description, Banning was a gregarious, industrious man. In addition to the aforementioned, he was instrumental in bringing the Southern Pacific Railroad to the port and starting the first telegraph line linking cities. We ended our tour marveling at the formal dining room where the Bannings held frequent dinner parties. Guests were welcomed to a meal lasting hours after the children were excused from the long table. I wonder if Banning ever dreamed that thePortofLos Angelesdown the street below his home would become the busiest container port in theUnited States. One thing is certain; Phineas Banning was too busy to be lonely.
“The best ideas are those that benefit the individual, the family, the tribe and ultimately the species. ” –[1] John T. Cacioppo & William Patrick, Loneliness: Human Nature and the Need for Social Connection, New York: W. W. Norton & Company, Inc. , 2009, p. 215.