Historical Tidbits Archives

January 20, 2026January 20, 2026

Vision

1963 March on Washington speaker podium. Photo by Warren Leffler.

There was anxiety in Washington the day before the 1963 March on Washington. They were so worried, they closed the liquor stores. The opening line of the New York Times article spoke rather fearfully of the “vanguard” of tens of thousands of people, who had begun arriving on the roads and filling the bus and train stations. The largest marches up until that time had been only around 30-40,000 people, and it was pretty clear this would be bigger. Organizers hoped for 100,000. Martin Luther King was last on a long list of speakers.

The concern was unfounded. There was no violence, no major counter-protest (a small group of Nazis was quickly dispatched), little untoward behavior by police or protesters. People showed up en masse but marched as planned, gathered as planned, and patiently listened to speakers as planned. Their patience was rewarded: it was the largest protest march on Washington in history at the time, estimated at 250-300,000. And they heard one of the greatest orations ever delivered.

The Gathering

There had been marches to Washington before, protesting wages, unemployment, and civil rights. Five thousand walked in D.C. at the 1922 “Silent March” on Washington to urge passage of the Dyer anti-lynching bill. But few years later in 1925, the KKK brought 30,000 racists into Washington, one of the largest marches of its time. People came to Washington to protest multiple times during the Great Depression, looking for help and answers.

During the FDR administration, the idea of a march by Blacks to protest discrimination in jobs and the military was advanced repeatedly among leaders of civil rights organization. At the time, marches often helped to pressure Congress, but leaders weren’t sure that the “Court and Congress” strategy was all that effective for Blacks. Plessy vs. Ferguson, the Supreme Court decreeing “separate but equal” facilities were acceptable was only a few decades old in 1933.

The organizers of the 1963 march began planning in December 1961, after Kennedy was elected but in no hurry to champion civil rights. The courts had outlawed some types of segregation in the 1950s, but armed guards still had to accompany children to school. Mass marches and nonviolent demonstrations across many places had been effective, but organizers sensed it was a time to push for more. Kennedy and many in his party supported civil rights in concept, but he urged the organizers not to march. Civil rights was on the list, but low priority. He was working on a bill, people should be patient. Civil rights always are a “distraction” to those who don’t need it.

November 20, 2025November 21, 2025

Not Going Gentle (Part II): Irene Triplett

Irene in her late 80s; she loved her jewelry. She is always pictured wearing that infinity sign and chain, which seems so appropriate. Photo posted on Reddit.

The teachers beat her at school, for not knowing the answers to questions or how to read or write. Other kids beat her and called her father “traitor,” 70 years after the war had ended. Her mother beat her, perhaps finding her lazy or insufficiently attentive. Her father shot guns at the trees (and the neighbors) and probably beat her for any reason he could think of.

Every story about Irene Triplett centers on the “amazing” fact that she received a Civil War pension, based on her father’s service, until she died in 2020. None focus on the fact that as a disabled child, addicted to tobacco, harassed and beaten, she lived. And lived. And lived.

Yesterday, I wrote about her father Mose, who served on both sides during the Civil War and married his second wife when he was nearly 80. Today, I want to write about his daughter Irene and her mother Lydia, who survived Mose as well as some of the harshest conditions imaginable. They fought their own battles, for a very long time.

November 19, 2025November 20, 2025

Not Going Gentle (Part I): Mose Triplett

These are tough times. But we are a tough people, we humans. I came across a story last week about how strong people can be, how they can–as Faulkner said–endure the most extraordinary things. Sometimes we’re just too ornery to quit.

It was a rabbit hole, and I am infamous for not knowing when to stop. The rabbits multiplied in their little warren so much that this became two stories. If you like human interest stories, I promise this pays off.

The starting point was two weeks ago, when I failed a little history quiz. It was the Saturday Times Flashback test, the one where you have to put historical events in order. This ought to be my wheelhouse, but there’s always that one trick question that mars my perfect score and makes me curse the quiz-writer.

For this November 8th quiz, you had to guess the approximate date for when was “the last Civil War pension check distributed”? You had hints–it was either before or after 1957 and before or after 1823. I thought I had this one for sure! Definitely before 1957 but after 1823. A man was in the Civil War, let’s say as young as age 15, then his child maybe was born as late as 1880 and died in… NOPE! Not even close. She was born in 1930 and died in 2020. WTF?!? Yes, WTF indeed.

That was just the start of this intriguing story about the father Mose and the daughter Irene. Most of the info we have is about Mose, who fought in the Civil War–on both sides. Much of the legwork was laid out in a 2014 a Daily Mail story augmented by Wall Street Journal reporter Michael M. Phillips. Irene was tracked down by Lorraine Orton, a historian with the Women’s Relief Corps, and her husband Jerry, who found Irene after thirty years in a nursing home.

The news articles follow the journalist rules, laying out key known facts. But I find myself trying to understand the people. What kind of a person does THIS? What kind of a person could live through THAT? Today: “Uncle” Mose’s story. Tomorrow: Lydia and Irene’ story.