Editor’s Note: This is an ongoing series which runs each Thursday morning titled the Richland Chronicles, by author Paul Lintern. It is set in the 1860s and tells the story of Richland County through the eyes of young people. The books are available from Lintern for $25 a set, tax and shipping included. Each book is about 120 pages written for intermediate readers (4th grade) with local illustrations. Volume I is Amelia Changes Her Tune. Volume II is Isaac and Wolf Paw Find Their Home. Volume III is Autumn Keeps Her Secret. Volume IV is Mr. Gamble Starts a School. Volume V is Jacob Blows his Horn. Volume VI is Cassie Fights the War. Volume VII is Emilene Adopts Her Family.
“They look like they just walked through a river of blood to get here.”
David grimaced a little at Jacob’s comment, but had to agree with the description. The men on the other side of the field stood facing them defiantly, in white muslin shirts with a red elaborate letter C on the front, matching calf-length trousers and bright red knee-stockings.
They carried big sticks and wore hats peculiar to their profession — simple head cover with a short visor to shade the eyes.
The Cincinnati Red Stockings had arrived in Mansfield.
“We can take them,” said one of the men standing nearby. “The Mansfield Independents will not be intimidated.”
“Hear, hear,” said another. “That red hosiery doesn’t scare us one bit.”
“They are on our turf. We’ll show those invaders,” Jacob added.
Those players are huge! We don’t have a chance, David thought, knowing better than to actually say it.
The fact that David was only 10 years old may have influenced his impression of their size, but he was not far off. While a couple of the Mansfield players looked like the corn-fed farm boys they were, all of the Cincinnati players had that size to them.
Of course, size really doesn’t matter that much in base ball, David thought. You don’t have to be big.
But it doesn’t hurt to be huge.
+ + +
“Your technique is improving quickly, Miss Grace,” the tall, slender woman said, as she put down her violin.
“Yes, Ma’am,” Grace replied, giving a shy smile to Emilene, as she put her violin away.
I am gaining on you, Sis, Grace thought.
“There really is a difference between a violin and a fiddle,” the woman pondered. “They are the same instrument, but the sound, and even more the style, are remarkably different. Both useful, but different.”
“I think Mr. Pharris taught me how to fiddle, but you have taught me the violin, Miss Vasbinder,” Emilene said.
“That’s a nice way to put it,” Miss Vasbinder replied, smiling. “Of course, I knew Mr. Pharris years ago, and he definitely was both a violinist and a fiddler.”
Orin Pharris was a local dance band leader who had been assaulted 30 years before. Permanently scarred on his face, he now mournfully played music daily on the square in Mansfield. Emilene, wanting to learn to play on what had been her late father’s violin, had asked him about four years ago, to teach her. It had been a good start, but he soon tired of it.
He did still call her his “little protege” whenever he saw her downtown, and they did play together once in a while, if Emilene had her violin with her, but Orin Pharris was a damaged man who could not maintain a steady friendship.
“The fact that he still regards you so fondly is quite the miracle,” Mama would say. “It’s a tribute to his appreciation for your father’s playing.”
Emilene’s father had died in the war. Her mother took sick and died the next winter. Mama and Papa Zimmerman adopted her soon after. Being an only child who suddenly was the youngest of six was a bit of a shock for her, although nothing compared to losing both parents and being in a whole new family in a matter of months.
Emilene was just feeling at home in her new home when Grace and David came to live with them, and suddenly became her younger siblings. Their parents had been slaves in Mississippi, had escaped as what the army called “contraband” during the war, and were sponsored by free blacks in Oberlin, Ohio.
The parents died suddenly of an influenza outbreak that poured through town, leaving the children orphans at a time when the whole country was looking for homes for orphans. Grace and David became a part of the Zimmerman family soon after, “by the grace of God,” their new mother often said.
Both girls had been taking lessons from Jane Vasbinder for a couple of years, and were good enough that they recently played during worship at the Presbyterian Church, only a couple of buildings from the Zimmerman home. Miss Vasbinder had arranged it, and had played with them, to make sure everything went properly.
How can people play and sing without moving? Grace had wondered at the time, as she struggled to keep her posture just as Miss Vasbinder had instructed. She was glad to find Emilene had the same trouble.
“Are you ladies ready to become concert violinists?” Miss Vasbinder asked as they were leaving.
“I am afraid our ZimmerKinder Band will always be more of a dance band than a concert band,” Emilene said, to Miss Vasbinder’s obvious disappointment.
“I doubt we could ever get David to sit still,” Grace added.
Or me, she thought.
“Where is your brother?” Miss Vasbinder asked.
“He’s looking after things for Jacob’s base ball team,” Emilene said. “The Independents are going to play a team from Cincinnati in a couple of weeks. They must be an important team because everyone is talking about it.”
“David gets the water, and picks up the batting sticks and chases balls that are out of play and gets to wear one of those silly hats,” Grace explained.
“And it keeps him out of our way,” Emilene added, as all three laughed.
“Maybe you can offer some music at the game,” Miss Vasbinder suggested.
The girls paused, but Miss Vasbinder knew what they were thinking.
“Fiddle music, of course,” she said.
