WEEK V

To Farb or Not To Farb

In his 1998 book, Confederates in the Attic, Tony Horwitz recounts the lives of Civil War reenactors and living historians, some of whom are referred to as ‘farbs’:

“’Farb’ was the worst insult in the hardcore vocabulary. It referred to reenactors who approached the past with a lack of verisimilitude. The word’s etymology was obscure; Young guessed that ‘farb’ was short for ‘far-be-it-from-authentic,’ or possibly a respelling of ‘barf.’ Violations serious enough to earn the slur included wearing a wristwatch, smoking cigarettes, smearing oneself with sunblock or insect repellant—or, worst of all, fake blood. Farb was also a fungible word; it could become an adjective (farby), a verb (as in, ‘don’t farb out on me’), an adverb (farbily) and a heretical school of thought (Farbism or Farbiness).”

To hardcore living historians, like the legendary Robert Lee Hodge, farby anachronisms which make history more tolerable, fun, and accessible, spoil reenactment events. But can farbiness be considered failure if it encourages increased engagement with history, even if it lacks authenticity?

I have encountered both farbs and hardcores at reenactments. While it is intriguing to see thoroughly invested hardcores sleeping in pup tents and eating 80-year-old C-rations, the public engages mostly with farbs. Hardcores fade into the background like pieces in a diorama; hardcores may enjoy roughing it, but it is not an ideal way to engage with others. 

The appearance, smell, and lifestyle of a hardcore is overwhelming. Observers are more likely to engage with friendly farbs, dressed in mismatched uniforms stained with cherry juice, than to approach men who appear three weeks deep into trenches of the Battle of the Somme. The goal of a battle reenactment, like any display of public history, is to engage audiences. This goal cannot be achieved if audiences are too intimidated to learn from certain historians. 

Though I have yet to participate in a reenactment, I appreciate the spirit of preserving memories through recreation. Hardcores have their place in authentic preservation, but accessible history today requires farbiness through romanticism, humor, drama, and other sentiments that inspire personal connections to persons and events. 

Farbily, I tend to collect artifacts with personal connections in mind over historical accuracy. Two of my favorite items come from a piecemeal WWII Naval Undress Uniform. The first is a ‘Dixie cup’ hat from Msgr. Mervin J. Hood, a local priest and family friend who served aboard the USS Mertz. The second is a jumper from Wayne V. Paustain, a local medic who served as a Pharmacist’s Mate, 2^ndclass. Uniform pieces are not for the purpose of a costume (though last week’s blogpost exposed me for wearing the hat while touring the USS Iowa), but serve to curate a collection of personally meaningful artifacts. 

Why not take advantage of modern comforts soldiers fought so hard for future generations to enjoy? Maybe someday I will be more hardcore, but for now I am content to attend reenactments where living historians employ the use of modern deodorant. Though farbs do not depict history authentically, they make history palatable, which successfully makes observers want to learn more in the future.

 [Definition from Chapter 1 of Confederates in the Attic, Tony Horwitz 1998.]