Between 2011 and 2015, the Civil War Sesquicentennial (150th Anniversary) took place.
(Yes, I know—some of you have about 25 different names for this era. I’ll say what I tell the reenactors: my grandfather came to this country in 1868, after y’all got your *^%$ straight. They tell me they still haven’t, but they’re working on it.)

Those years were reenactments galore. Every major battle of the war had its dates set, and reenactors—at least the ones I had the opportunity to know—were ecstatic. Reenactors are a different breed, and it didn’t matter whether they represented the North or the South; they had the correct clothing, weapons, and mindset. Which brings up an important point about historical research: if you want to know what happened at a battle, ask a historian; if you want the details, ask a reenactor.

One reenactor in particular, Ron Strybos, stood out as truly one of a kind. Ron portrayed Colonel Crocker during the latter annual Dick Dowling Days events, which originally began in 1963—the 100th anniversary of the Battle of Sabine Pass, a battle the United States lost.

I’ll get into that shortly, but there was another scrap before the famous battle.

In October of 1862, fifty Federal troops came ashore in Sabine with a howitzer. Their objective was to burn the Confederate cavalry barracks. While marching through town, they confiscated Captain Dorman’s horse and cart to transport the cannon—though not without resistance.

Captain Dorman’s wife, Kate, witnessed this, and her Irish temper boiled over. Without regard for the consequences, she shook her fist in the air and scolded the Federal troops, declaring that she hoped Confederate boys would kill every last one of them before they returned—and that if she had twenty-five men, she could take out the Federals and their cannon herself.

After burning the Confederate barracks and stable, the Federals marched back through Sabine. This time, they returned Captain Dorman’s horse and cart, along with a warning: if he didn’t keep his “damn wife’s mouth shut,” they would hang him. Furthermore, if Kate didn’t apologize, they would burn the hotel.

Kate’s response was that she would see them in the Nether Regions first—and they could set fire to it if they wished.

A week later, another Federal patrol came ashore. This time they burned roughly a quarter of the town, including a sawmill and several residences, but notably left the Catfish Hotel untouched.

This was the lore of Kate Dorman, who at Dick Dowling Days was portrayed by Darlene Mott. I need to say this: Darlene was Ron’s equal when it came to reenacting. She made other reenactors visibly grimace because they never quite knew whether she was serious—especially when she pointed that knife at them.

I have video. Here are the links:
2013 – https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cVA8KLX5tvU
2012 – https://youtu.be/8L-xvblGqSc

In 2013, the Jefferson County Historical Commission, along with other organizations, planned an ambitious historical reenactment complete with artillery, gallantry, and meticulous detail. Around 300 reenactors participated, along with a naval presence under the command of “Colonel Crocker” for the attack. I don’t think participation had been this high since the event’s early days—something many veteran participants reminisced about all weekend.

I volunteered more than 36 hours that weekend, starting with a foggy Friday morning drive to Sabine Pass to handle participant sign-ins at 6 a.m. If you remember that weekend, there was a constant marsh fire burning on the Louisiana side, giving the entire area an ominous, foreboding look—especially with an approaching flotilla.

Note: In the actual battle, the U.S. plan was to surprise Fort Griffin at the mouth of the Sabine River. Unfortunately for them, their 5,000-plus flotilla was spotted early. That was a problem, because they came up against Richard W. Dowling—a poor Irish immigrant who arrived in New Orleans at the age of four and clawed his way into prosperity, owning three bars and other ventures. You can learn more about Dowling by reading the excellent books of historian Edward T. Cotham Jr.
https://www.edcotham.com/

I’m not a historian—I’m a researcher—so my brain works differently. I see Dick Dowling as Eli Manning and the New York Giants, and the U.S. forces as Tom Brady and the Patriots. Dowling served as a lieutenant at both the Battle of Galveston and the Battle of Sabine Pass. The U.S. lost both battles when, on paper, they should have dominated.

The Giants beat the Patriots twice in the Super Bowl with Eli Manning. Was Dowling a great leader? I don’t know. But he had street sense, and his opponent was a government that has often underestimated its adversaries—and paid for it. (I won’t mention Pearl Harbor, but…) Sun Tzu wrote about this kind of thing around 500 B.C. in The Art of War, so the concept has been around a while. It’s worth a read.
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sun_Tzu

Friday went smoothly as the sign-in person. I checked in many participants, including Jed Marum—a musician I greatly admire—along with several friends. Outside, the smoke still hung in the air, reinforcing the feeling that something ominous was brewing.

Some of my photographs were entered into a contest that weekend, which I honestly didn’t care much about. Not to brag, but I won five ribbons from a small field—maybe ten entrants. They critiqued my photos as “non-professional.” No kidding. I wasn’t a professional photographer in 2013—and neither were they. I’m still not in 2025. Nor are they. But I digress.

Saturday was battle day, along with all the stories and shenanigans that come with it. Everything went well until my so-called expert camera knowledge failed me while filming video. I didn’t understand the difference between photo and video memory requirements on my card. (Yep—how are those expert photo ribbons helping now?) I spent the evening at Best Buy buying a better memory card while the reenactors danced and ate Billie Joe’s BBQ.

Sunday morning’s foggy, smoky drive went fine, though fatigue was catching up with me. At least I didn’t have to camp in Sabine Pass with the mosquitoes—or the rogue alligator that wandered into the Northern camp.

At the time, I was recovering from shingles. I now understand what JFK must have felt in the back of the head in Dallas—pain I experienced again in 2020 and never want to revisit.

The days were hot. I also remember meeting a dehydrated Sarah Bellian for the first time. She was the new curator at the Museum of the Gulf Coast and loved to cosplay. She arrived dressed in a Vietnam-era uniform—clearly new to the area and unaware of the theme—but that was fine by me. She’s awesome in my book. Throughout her career here, she did outstanding work for the museum and the JCHC, and even thought of me and my obsession with Tora! Tora! Tora! when she later found related letters while working at the Pacific Fleet Submarine Museum.
https://www.bowfin.org/

That weekend, I met people who likely never would have visited Sabine Pass if not for the 150th anniversary. I met descendants of Colonel Crocker and Dick Dowling (the latter from Ireland). My most meaningful meeting was with historian Tim Collins, who researched Dowling’s life in Ireland and wrote a book about it—I have a signed copy. He pushed me to dig deeper into Kate Dorman’s story, which I’ve done, though researching 19th-century women leaves very few wormholes to crawl through.

To wrap it up: this was a weekend I’ll never forget. Many participants we will never see reenact again have since passed.

Rest in peace, Ron. Whether portraying Colonel Crocker, a Mexican Army officer, or any of the countless roles you played in bringing history to life, you were the best.

Tim Collins—you are an inspiration to me, just like Bill Quick, whom I never met but deeply respect for his research.

Until next week.