" ... I'd been doing some research. Before, I'd assumed that reenacting was a marginal part of Civil War memory, a weekend hobby for gun-toting good ol' boys with the emphasis on boys. My reading suggested something altogether different. Reenacting had become the most popular vehicle of Civil War remembrance. There were now over 40,000 reenactors nationwide; one survey named reenacting the fastest-growing hobby in America.

Also, while battles remained the core event, reenacting now encompassed all the nonmilitary aspects of the Civil War, mirroring a similar trend in scholarship on the conflict. Soldiers were joined by growing ranks of "civilian" reenactors who played the part of nurses, surgeons, laundresses, preachers, journalists even embalmers. A generation ago, a young person with a keen interest in the War would likely have joined a Civil War "roundtable," one of the hundreds of scholarly clubs nationwide. In the 1990s, the same person was more likely to Join a reenacting unit, perhaps with his wife and kids.

Not that women needed men to get involved. On the Internet, I found multiple chat groups for reenactors; on one, the topic of the day was "Top Ten Civil War Studs," a discussion among women about "gents who would most belong on the cover of a romance novel." The designated "Dishes" included P. G. T Beauregard ("Continental charm in Creole packaging") and Robert E. Lee ("a gerontophile's dream with sugar daddy possibilities"). The "Dud" list featured Braxton Bragg ("less style than a Nehru Jacket") and William Tecumseh Sherman ("sinister expression").

Reenacting had also bred a vast cottage industry of tailors, weavers, and other "sutlers," a Civil War term for merchants who provisioned the armies. For advice, reenactors could turn to a dozen publications, ranging from the oxymoronic Civil War News to the Camp Chase Gazette, a monthly crammed with how-to articles titled "Bundling Paper Cartridges for Field Use" and personal ads such as, "DWF ISO S/DWM between 45-55. Must be in good shape and ready for some hard campaigning. No TBGs need apply." Translation: divorced white female in search of single or divorced white male in trim condition-not one of those tubby bearded guys (TBGs), or what Rob would call a "fat flaming farb." There was even a Consumer Reports-style quarterly called The Watchdog, which rated the historic accuracy and quality of the various products on offer to the Civil War shopper.

Standards hadn't always been so high. When reenacting first became popular during the Civil War centennial in the 1960s, many soldiers wore work shirts from Sears and fired BB guns. But in the three decades since, the hobby had matured and so had the quality of soldiers' "impressions." Even so, reenactors differed on just how far they should go in seeking "authenticity." Hardcores were a small minority within the reenacting community and regarded by many as elitists. Mainstream reenactors also feared that the hardcore faith, taken to its fundamentalist extreme, would turn the hobby into a performance art that no one would want to watch -- much less participate in.

"They're pushing the envelope in terms of authenticity," the Camp Chase Gazette editor, Bill Holschuh, told me when I phoned for his opinion. 'About the only thing left is live ammunition and Civil War diseases. I hope it doesn't come to that."

[text from Tony Horwitz, Confederates in the Attic, New York: Vintage, 1999, page 126-127]