OPINION: Seriously? Abraham Lincoln: Vampire Hunter

According to 20th Century Fox, here’s the plot: “President Lincoln’s mother was killed by a supernatural creature, which fuels his passion to crush vampires and their slave-owning helpers.”

What’s next? OK, given that zombies seem to be as popular as Dracula these days, I fully expect a George Washington zombie flick to follow on the heels of the Lincoln horror film. The nation’s first president chops down a cherry tree in the opening scene, then runs hatchet in hand to pursue British zombies on the edge of the woods. “I cannot tell a lie, father, I did chop down that zombie from Liverpool.”

Except no, that won’t be enough. There will be an alien presence, too, maybe a hovercraft hanging over the Constitutional Convention, the pen of Georgia’s Abraham Baldwin pulled back from the Constitutional signing as six-mouthed creatures from another galaxy burst through the door and threaten America’s independence — an intergalactic alliance between England and planet Klukon. Or, perhaps another scene. Ben Franklin’s electric jolt to his kite was not lightning. No, it was a ray-gun zap from a menancing, skinny alien with a sinister laugh.

So, is our culture to a point where historical storytelling has lost all luster? We have to remove our historical figures from the real world and introduce supernatural villains?

You know some teacher is going to run into an insane classroom discussion.

“No Jimmy, there were no vampires in the Civil War,” says the teacher.

“Well, how do you know?” says the student. “And how do you know Lincoln didn’t kill them?”

“Do you have any evidence that he killed vampires?” says the teacher.

“No, but can you prove he didn’t?” says the student.

Obviously, it would be a rare knucklehead who genuinely entertains such notions. But I find the introduction of supernatural villains into our real national history kind of perverse. For instance, can you imagine the Polish stomaching a tale of vampires at Auschwitz-Birkenau? Do we really need to go such places with our historical figures and our national narrative about such death and destruction?

The Civil War cut to the soul of our nation — a land where “all men are created equal” and yet, a land, where slavery existed. It is the central moral conflict in our national history. And yet, the men, women and children of the time of both North and South, white and black, were like boats caught up in a great wave that slammed against the shore, their old lives shattered, all of them in one form or another.

The individual stories of this great upheaval, the old letters, the beautiful expressions of pain, heartache and stolen joys are so fascinating. Every artifact of the time is weighted with great significance.

My family traveled to Tybee last week, and my daughter, brother-in-law and I visited Fort Pulaski. If you visit the beach, it’s worth taking the time to tour the old fort. You can walk up the narrow winding staircases, stand next to the large cannons and gaze from atop the 32-foot brick walls at the Savannah River. The fort was built by the federal government on Cockspur Island as part of the nation’s coastal defense system. Cannons at the fort could take out boats on the river.
The fort was completed in 1845, but only two federal officers were stationed there until the Civil War. On Jan. 3, 1861, 134 men from the Georgia State Militia seized the fort. Two weeks later, Georgia seceded from the Union and entered the Confederacy.

It’s a historically significant place. But it’s the little things that stand out, such as seeing the sleeping quarters and imagining the insomnia of a soldier in his bunk. How would I feel in such a place?

No major fighting happened at the fort until April 10-11, 1862. The Union set their weapons on Tybee beach and then unleashed mortars and new rifled cannons at the fort. The thick brick walls weren’t a match for the new, more powerful artillery of the Union. And the Confederates surrendered the fort.

The Union then used the fort for storage and to keep prisoners of war. Fort Pulaski was known for housing the “Immortal 600,” a group of Confederate prisoners. With both sides angered by reports of foul treatments of POWs, the Southern men in Pulaski reportedly suffered terrible treatment too at the hands of Northern captors.

What was that scene like? I could only imagine as I stood where it happened.

My daughter at 7 is still not too interested in history. She liked being included in the trip and enjoyed getting rock candy at the gift shop. That’s natural for someone so young.

But I want my children to view history as rope that extends to us all — something we’re all tied to. I want them to find things that make history more real, not less. It doesn’t necessarily have to be rooted entirely in straight facts — who knows the actual dialogue from 1861? — but it needs a connection to real life. We find this in books, in documentaries, in visits to real places, in discussions with people more knowledgeable than ourselves.

The Civil War is alive with countless tales, arguments, characters. It always will be.

But Abraham Lincoln: Vampire Hunter?

Wow, give me a stake. I want to kill that idea.

Zach Mitcham is editor of The Madison County Journa