A modern history story

By Christine Tailer
HCP columnist

Oh, how I love stories, from my father's bedtime stories as a child, to my clients' life stories explaining why they came through my office door in search of legal representation, to novels, and yes, to history. I've come to believe that each individual story does not just rise out of a vacuum, but that behind every story is a back story, even many stories, each of which flows from one to the other, and all of which weave into the story we come to know.

Greg and I bought our farm in 2003. It lies just south of Georgetown. I had a vague recollection that Ulysses S. Grant was one of the eight United States presidents who hailed from Ohio, but I did not know that he had spent his formative years growing up in Georgetown. He first moved here with his parents as a toddler, and did not leave until 16 years later when he headed off to West Point Military Academy at the age of 17. 

Even though Georgetown was the county seat in the early 1800s, it was little more than a small frontier town. Its population was just a few hundred. Everybody knew everybody else, as is basically still true today, though the population now numbers several thousand.

One of the reasons that I loved being a trial attorney was being able to listen to my clients' accounts of their lives. Once I stopped practicing law, I found that I truly missed this people part of my career. I retired in 2020, but by early 2024, I had become enamored not only with Georgetown's history, but with sharing that history with whomever I could find to listen.

The perfect opportunity arose when I was asked to become a tour guide at the boyhood home of Ulysses S. Grant. I joyfully invited my relatives, my city friends, my gardening friends and my vintage car friends, to tour the home with me, and once a week, from May through October, you can find me there sharing what I have learned about the stories behind the man who eventually became a Four-Star Union General and the 18th president of the United States.

And so it was that this year, in celebration of Ulysses S. Grant's April 27, 1822 birthday, I found myself standing before his statue in Georgetown's central square, in the rain. There, I met three groups of middle school students. They had walked, through the rain, from their school up to town, to tour not only the  statue where I stood, but the Grant's boyhood home, and his one room schoolhouse.

I stood in front of the statue, the students in a semicircle before me. I shared with them a young boy's love of horses and marbles. By the age of six Ulysses could ride bareback, and by eight, he rode up and down the streets of town standing on just one leg. Ulysses was a small boy, standing only 5'1" when he headed off to the military academy, but he always enjoyed riding the tallest horse he could find. As a Union general, he would gallop up to a group of soldiers and rein in his steed, dismounting while the horse was still in motion. Grant's horses were so well trained that as soon as they felt him lighten in the saddle, their hooves would dig into the earth and they would come to a sudden stop, standing beside the general, their nostrils flaring.

I passed a bag of my Civil War era marbles among the students. Several told me that they also had marbles and even collected them. I told them how young Ulysses once bet another boy that he could jump 25 feet. The wager was for a handful of marbles. Ulysses led the other boy, and a group of unbelieving onlookers, out to White Oak Creek, where Ulysses solemnly jumped 25 feet down to the muddy bank below. Unharmed, Ulysses pocketed the marbles, adding to his collection.

The students were also intrigued by the marble solitaire game board that now bears General Grant's name. This form of solitaire was a popular pastime for the Civil War soldiers. The small wooden gameboard was easily carried in either rucksack or saddle bag. The game's object is to jump marbles over each other, removing those that have been jumped, and end up with only one marble, dead center, in the middle of the board. Grant excelled at this.

By 1863, General Grant had spent months trying to march his troops towards Vicksburg, situated on the Mississippi River. His intent was to capture the fortified city, thus stopping the Confederate's flow of munitions and supplies up and down the mighty Mississippi. After months of futile approaches, Grant retired one evening, to play a relaxing game of marble solitaire. 

The following morning, he greeted his troops exclaiming that he knew just what to do. That night, he had played the game countless times and had won the game every time. His strategy was simple. He first cleared the marbles off one quarter of the board. He then turned the board and cleared off the next quarter, and so on, and so on, until with his last move, only one marble was left dead center. And so it was that Grant's military strategy was to circle around Vicksburg, leading his army across the mighty river, down its western side, and then back across the river, and initiate his attack from the east. As he had won at marble solitaire by circling the board, he led his army to successfully sack the city. And so the back story of a young boy's love of marbles, and the game of marble solitaire, may have played a pivotal role in the Civil War.

I shared other Grant stories with the students. The rain did not seem to dampen their attention, and even after I had finished my stories, they huddled around and continued to ask questions. The time passed quickly. The rain fell, and my heart was full.

Christine Tailer is an attorney and former city dweller who moved several years ago, with her husband, Greg, to an off-grid farm in Ohio south-central Ohio. Visit them on the web at straightcreekvalleyfarm.com.