I would like to know this story.
Since you asked....
I discovered that
National Tribune article describing the proposed monument while researching Farnsworth's Charge for what became my first book back in 1996. After pondering it for a while, I reached out to my old friend, the late Blake Magner. From prior conversations, I knew that Blake had been the chairman of the committee that placed the Gibbon monument on Cemetery Ridge and that he had extensive experience with this sort of thing. After reading the copy of the article that I sent to Blake, he got on board with the project. Blake, in turn, introduced me to Terry Jones, who sculpted the Gibbon monument. Terry also got on board with the Farnsworth project.
We then enlisted the support and endorsement of a number of prominent Civil War historians, all of whom signed on to the project. We even had some financial support from Farnsworth's home state, Illinois. With all of that in place, Blake and I put together a formal proposal to present to the NPS. We went back and forth with revisions to it for a couple of months and went through multiple drafts of the proposal until it finally reached the point where we were happy with the draft. Blake then did a cover letter and submitted it to the park.
A couple of months went by, and we figured that that was going to be it--that it would die a bureaucratic death. Frankly, that's what I expected, and I was prepared for it. But then Blake got a phone call telling us that the park superintendent, who was then John Latschar, wanted to meet with us to discuss the placement of the monument. We were shocked, but we readily agreed. Terry even went to the effort to sculpt a clay miniature of the proposed monument (called a maquette) to bring to the meeting, something that he spent quite a bit of time on.
The meeting was set for a Wednesday morning at park's headquarters in the old VC. Please keep in mind that I live 6+ hours from Gettysburg. It takes a big chunk of a day to drive there. I gave up three days of work at a time when I was (a) self-employed (meaning that if I don't work, I don't get paid) and (b) in the end phases of a major deal that was about to close and which was taking a lot of time. In short, I didn't have three days to take off, but there I was, driving to Gettysburg.
Blake, Terry and I had dinner the night before to discuss our meeting strategy. We then got to the meeting with Latschar, which was also attended by then chief historian Kathy George Harrison and supervising historian Scott Hartwig. And we were in for a shock.
There are two unforgivable sins in my world. Nobody ever gets a second chance to commit them. And John Latschar committed both of them that morning: he wasted my time and he lied to me. Those are the two unforgivable sins.
It seems that instead of calling us in to discuss the placement of the monument, he dragged us to Gettysburg to tell us that there was no way that the monument would ever be erected on the battlefield while he was in charge and that we would all be better off trying to raise money to repair and maintain the existing monuments.
Now, the repair and maintain thing is a legitimate point, and I don't dispute it. But why did he have to waste time and money to drag Blake, Terry, and me to Gettysburg when a letter or a phone call would have accomplished the same thing?
And why not tell us the truth about the purpose of the meeting instead of lying to us to get us to drop everything to be at His Royal Majesty's beck and call?
I was a good bit younger then--not yet 40--and a bit less wise than I am now. It literally took all of my willpower not to go over the table--and Blake holding me back--and rearrange that smarmy festering pile of bovine excrement's face for him. Only the realization that while I would have enjoyed doing so immensely, it was not worth going to prison or losing my license to practice law over it truly stopped me.
To her credit, Kathy Harrison was absolutely appalled by what transpired, and she apologized about five times. But the damage was done. As long as His Majesty remained the superintendent, I refused to acknowledge his existence. He came to one of my talks, came up to me afterward and extended his hand. I looked him straight in the eye, said, "I don't shake the hands of liars," and walked away. Boy, did that feel good.
Nearly twenty years later, I remain livid about it. And the monument--which should be there, since the veterans clearly wanted and intended for it to be there--is no closer to happening. I gave up on this idea a very long time ago, although I still have the brochure that Terry, Blake and I put together for it buried in my files at home.
In the end, karma got its revenge on His Imperial Highness. It couldn't have happened to a nicer guy.
http://www.nationalparkstraveler.co...ent-finds-cybertracks-****ographic-images4784
I took a great deal of pleasure watching his career dissipation light flash brighter and brighter.