
Thursday Thoughts #139


For fun.

Have you ever been asked to perform a job you felt was far beyond your ability or know how?
If so, you might relate to the way I felt when my boss asked if I would clean up the three Civil War saddles in our Stonewall Jackson Museum.
A cold shiver passed through me. Museum saddles from the Civil War? I have never even dared to touch one in that beautiful museum, never-mind the thought of cleaning one!
Certainly working ten years as a docent did not qualify me for this task. However, I am a horsewoman. I have cleaned my own tack hundreds of times over the years and been inside many harness shops talking to and learning from the men. But, as they say, “That’s a horse of a different color!” My tack is not on display nor full of historic value.
“You know about saddles, Mitzy. They need attention.” Her confidence surely was greater than mine.
May I tell you how my mind started churning? Like the little gizmo on the computer when it is ‘thinking’, so turned my mind. What do they need? Do I have the proper supplies? How can I be sure I won’t damage them?
The tote bag was full of every leather cleaning product I own along with several white cotton cloths. Some for clearing away dust, others for oiling. As I mounted the stairs to the second floor where the saddles were on display, past conversations with harness/leather men over the years flooded my mind.
There they were, beautifully displayed in this fine museum. Setting the supplies down, I gazed at these wonderful pieces of American history. Plaques on each display told their story.
After examining them, I decided the best thing was Neatsfoot oil. Like my hands in winter the leather was dry and cracked. Obviously soap cleaning was out of the question. These saddles needed oil. Some areas were dry-rotted. This means it is beyond repair.
I began with the one that appeared in best shape. It was Turner Ashby’s saddle.


Gently, gently did I apply oil and wiped softly with the cotton cloth on the leather in the seat. The response was an answer to prayer. The leather took it beautifully! A peek on the underneath revealed mold. Mold on leather is like rust on a car—deadly. My boss held the saddle up so I could apply oil and remove the mold. Another score!
Feeling a bit more confident, I started on the other two. To my great joy and delight they responded as well.
I do not know how long I was there so full of careful thoughts towards the care of these historic pieces. I do know I can thank the memory of conversations with those smart harness men that knew far more than I. It was as if I could hear them speaking to me, guiding my thoughts and hands.



I saved the worse-worn saddle for last. It was pretty well dry-rotted, however, it did respond to the Neatsfoot oil.


Here is a photo of each one after oiling. Are you able to see a difference?



If ever in town, take time to visit Stonewall Jackson Museum. You will be glad you did.

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