For Civil War re-enactors, the Border War ain’t no football game

The first volley of shots in Westport rings out around 11:30 in the morning.

At the Harris-Kearney House, a group of Union soldiers notices a border ruffian amid the crowd that has gathered on the lawn. It's a sunny but chilly Saturday in late October, and a ceremony has just designated the oldest remaining brick house in Kansas City as an official stop on the Santa Fe National Historic Trail. Afterward, people hang around to enjoy some cake decorated to look like a wagon wheel. Nearby, three little girls in long prairie-style dresses sell cups of hot cider from a Crock-Pot.

The crowd includes dignitaries from the past and present. Re-enactors in period garb portray Alexander Majors, Westport founder John McCoy and a few other historic local figures. Jan Marcason, a current City Council member, gives a little speech. The dedication is part of Westport's 175th birthday celebration, an all-day event in different locations around the neighborhood.

Before the day can proceed, something must be done about that border ruffian. Six men — some in Union uniforms, others in Old West-style clothes — surround him as he stands under a tree with vibrant yellow leaves. They hassle him for being in enemy territory. Suddenly, the ruffian evades their grasp and escapes through the front gate of the Harris-Kearney House, turning onto the side street that passes Pryde's. The Union men follow at a brisk pace, but not too fast — the purpose of the skit is to get the audience to follow them, Pied Piper-like, into Westport toward the other activities. One of the Union soldiers, Mark "Tic Tac" Keith, takes a shortcut to try to intercept the ruffian.

Once they get away from the crowd, the men start firing their guns. Puffs of white smoke mark their trail, which turns onto Westport Road. Two mules pull a covered wagon and clip-clop by, leading a long line of cars. Nearby, a Star 102 van is parked outside the Westport Library for a live broadcast. Latin crooner Marc Anthony sings his sultry "I Need to Know" in the background.

"Hang him!" cries a woman in an old-fashioned striped dress with a hoop skirt.

The pursuers catch the ruffian right by the Westport Presbyterian Church, near a storefront that displays shirtless beefcake calendars with such titles as "Bear Men" and "Naked and Exposed." A small crowd of spectators catches up to the action. After a short discussion, the Union soldiers decide to let the guy go. "We'll get him later," one of the soldiers says. The crowd disperses.

Afterward, Keith is psyched by the success of the skit. "We're just like one big family. Just a bunch of kids playing and doing this right in the middle of Westport. That cracks me up," he says.

He and his fellow re-enactors still have a long day ahead of them. In the afternoon, they're scheduled to perform a shotgun-wedding skit, followed by a saloon brawl. Also on the skit list is a re-enactment of Order No. 11 — a major event in local history. In his book, Black Flag: Guerrilla Warfare on the Western Border, 1861-1865, Thomas Goodrich, editor of the Kansas Journal of Military History, describes it as "perhaps the harshest act of the U.S. government against its own people in American history."

A few days earlier, around 20 people met at the Presbyterian church to go over last-minute details of Westport 175, the birthday celebration for West Port (as it used to be called). On that rainy Wednesday evening, the mood of the room was fairly calm — even as meteorologists predicted a chance of snow on Saturday.

Westport 175 would be a big event for the neighborhood, both geographically and logistically. The free activities were set to take place at seven locations. The church would be the kid-friendly spot, with its craft tables, a G-rated haunted house and a book giveaway. A covered wagon would give rides between the Harris-Kearney House and the Buzzard Beach parking lot. Guided walking tours, music and dance demonstrations, and a brown-and-white ox would add to the festivities.

By scattering the activities, organizers wanted to highlight the walkability factor and the neighborhood aspect of Westport. They also saw this as a chance to heal their own border rift — the one caused by Broadway cutting the neighborhood into an eastern half and a western half.

Toward the end of the meeting, the discussion turned to the covered wagon. Richard Heaviland, the owner of Frame Works, who sports a long, almost rectangular beard, was concerned about how he and his fellow re-enactors were going to rob the wagon. One problem was that Westport Road wasn't going to be blocked off, so he was worried that the robberies would stop traffic.

"Lalalala," said Jamie Rich of the Westport Center for the Arts. Rich, a friendly, funny guy, pretended that he didn't want to hear about the robbery. "I'm just so afraid some lady will go like ... " he gave an exaggerated gasp while clutching his heart. "Try to figure it out, please."

Heaviland outlined two possible robbery skits. One involved a Union soldier dragging a border ruffian off the wagon. In the other one, they would hide a bag of money under a seat.