Revolutionary War Reenactors Keep History Alive
Profiles By Sarah Teo
Reenactors are also known as living historians or historical interpreters. In the following pages, meet individuals dedicated to the craft of historical storytelling — each of them bringing an impressive depth of knowledge to their work.
(Photo by Jeff Bross)
Antoine R. Watts
Thirty years ago, Antoine Watts — a Drexel University student at the time — spotted an ad on his trolley commute for the 20th anniversary reenactment of the Battle of Germantown. “I grew up near Germantown, and had never heard of this,” he says, despite always loving history, like his father before him. “I thought, ‘I want to see what this is all about.’”
Watts attended the event out of curiosity and was captivated by the tactical demonstrations and passion of the historians. An interest in reenactment blossomed over the next few years as he kept returning to the event, but the timing wasn’t right for him to take part. Circumstances changed in 2008, however, after another inspiring trip, this time to Colonial Williamsburg. Encouraged by his girlfriend to seek out a Black unit, Watts searched and found the First Rhode Island Regiment, a group dedicated to portraying the Continental Army’s famous “Black Regiment.” After sending one introductory email, he immediately received a response: “Welcome to the regiment!” His first rendezvous with Rhode Island was at Valley Forge, Pa., and he’s been active ever since. In fact, Watts currently serves as the group’s president, and is also vice president of the 3rd United States Colored Troops, a Civil War unit.
Growing up in the Philadelphia school system, Watts’ knowledge of African American contributions to the Revolutionary War was limited to the “basics” — figures like Crispus Attucks and Peter Salem. “What history you do learn is not very nuanced,” he explains. But through mentorship from First Rhode Island founders like Joe Becton, Watts’ knowledge base grew to include other Black individuals, such as Joseph Louis Cook, a commissioned lieutenant colonel of West African and Native American descent. There was also James Forten, a young Black man who served in the Navy as a teenager before becoming one of Philadelphia’s wealthiest entrepreneurs.
Over time, Watts has done various historical “impressions,” including specific figures like Forten. His portrayals have included officers in the Continental line — a choice he justifies through documented history. Lieutenant Colonel Cook was one example; Watts also notes, “We know the Rhode Island had three Black corporals at one point.”
The First Rhode Island Regiment holds a prestigious place in military history, boasting victories over Hessian forces at the Battle of Red Bank and the Battle of Rhode Island. For Watts, these stories are vital to both national and Black history.
“If we don’t tell our story, who will?” he asks, speaking of the Black reenactment community’s high calling. “In today’s climate, where there is a want of information but also a pushback against other voices, it is imperative that we do this.”
Watts views Black history as an essential thread in a larger narrative. “It’s not white history, it’s not Black history, or Hispanic history … it’s American history. Without these stories being told together, you cannot get a complete understanding of how intertwined we are. You can’t kill off a branch and expect the whole thing to survive.”
While 2026 is packed with commemorative events, Watts is already making plans for June 2028, the 250th anniversary of the Battle of Monmouth. “My goal is to have at least 15 men of color on the field, if not more, to form our own separate company … maybe even merge with some guys in Connecticut and Rhode Island to form our own battalion.”
As for the long-term future of the First Rhode Island Regiment? “My goal is to rebuild the foundation,” he says, “so that this story can continue after I’m gone.”
For Watts, reenactment is more than a hobby; it’s a way to honor ancestors who struggled for the independence of a country that didn’t always guarantee their freedom. By stepping onto the field, he’s doing his part to ensure the “American tapestry” remains whole.
(Photo by Jayne Senick)
John Senick
John Senick’s curiosity about the past spans across the ages, from Ancient Egypt and Greece to the Renaissance before taking a skip to more modern-day World War II history (his grandfather served as a paratrooper.) His interest in 18th-century Colonial life, though, started in college through his pursuit of a public history degree; the focus of his studies was often the American Enlightenment period in Colonial Pennsylvania.
After a visit to Colonial Williamsburg in Virginia, plus some volunteer work at the Morgan Log House in Montgomery County, Pa., Senick’s fully-fledged interest was ready to take flight. He went to the Battle of Germantown in 2021, looking to engage. “I was nervous to even approach anyone … you’re kind of star-struck,” he recalls.
But Senick did eventually make contact with a friendly face, historian Michael Jesberger, and — once life circumstances provided free time on weekends — reported for duty at the 2022 Battle of Brandywine reenactment. “It was one of the most incredible things I had experienced up until that moment,” he remembers fondly; at least 800 reenactors took part.
For Revolutionary War reenactors, there’s one weekend each year dedicated to training, which includes camping out or staying in one of the historical buildings. “It’s quite literally like an 18th-century bootcamp,” Senick says. “We’re reading the manuals, refreshing marching tactics … everything that comes with being an 18th-century soldier.”
(Photo by Jeff Bross)
Senick attends events with Spencer’s Additional Continental Regiment, usually as a private — but has also portrayed both a lieutenant during a court martial reenactment and a Loyalist involved in a toe-to-toe argument with a captain recruiting riflemen. Senick notes that the latter experience provided a chance to “make the Loyalist concerns palatable for someone. It makes sense why some people didn’t want to get involved on either side; it’s a scary thing, a Revolution.”
One of Senick’s most vivid reenactment memories was at Battle Road in Massachusetts. He describes the intense experience of hunkering down behind a stone wall in the forest with nothing but the sound of British fifes, drums, and footsteps as they approached. “It was eerie. It really put me there,” he says.
Another event at Fort Ticonderoga in New York is also sealed in Senick’s memory. “It was just raining the entire time during this 10-mile long march,” he says. “I made it two miles before I had to tap out because my hard leather shoes were destroying my ankles.” As a perk, though, he got to enjoy some fireside time and snacks with the fort staff.
Historical interpretation has allowed Senick to consider the more nuanced circumstances of the Revolutionary War. “People are surprised by how civilians were treated by both the Continental and Crown forces. These people just wanted to be left alone, but both armies are antagonistic if you don’t take their side. And I don’t think we’re really told that when growing up. It was a rough time, and sometimes, there’s no clear good or bad guy.”
Regiment life can feel a lot like a family, and Senick counts many of the men in Spencer’s as mentors, including one who passed away last year after an unexpected cancer diagnosis. “He was a great friend, a very talented tailor, and a give-the-shirt-off-his-back kind of guy, which is exactly what he did for me at Brandywine, because he had extra clothing. And I still wear that regimental gear that I got from him; it’s a pretty nice memento to hold onto.”
“I’m always learning from watching them. I truly think there’s a camaraderie that transcends age groups. I love going to camp events with them and hanging out by the campfire. Some of them are my parent’s age, and they’re my friends.”
(Courtesy of Friends of Washington Crossing Park)
Kimberly Praria
For many families, a vacation to Colonial Williamsburg in Virginia is a pleasant memory filled with cobblestones, horse-drawn carriages, and tricorn hats. But for Kimberly Praria, it was a big “aha moment” in discovering her love for living history. Though only 9 or 10 at the time, she was immediately captivated by the immersive experience; her mom still jokes that they could have left Praria there an entire week, blissfully happy.
Not long after, a Pennsbury Manor ad in the local newspaper calling for volunteers caught Praria’s attention; it featured a young person dressed in early colonial wear, carrying water buckets with a yolk. The image was transformative. “I was just like, ‘Oh my gosh: it’s not Williamsburg, but that’s really cool,’” she recalls.
Already a Bucks County, Pa., resident, the decision was easy: Praria began volunteering at Pennsbury in her pre-teens, learning tour scripts and gaining familiarity with period dress. Over the next few years, she got involved in the research process as well, often with structured internships, solidifying her interest in museum work. At that point, “I just knew I wanted to share my excitement for history, and to get other people excited about it” — not by using dry, rote methods, but by using “a more immersive and engaging way” that connects people to the past.
Praria’s official start in living history outside of the museum world began with Deborah Peterson’s Pantry, a business operated by historian Deborah Peterson that provided research material on 18th century Colonial life, particularly regarding foodways and open-hearth cooking. After first knowing Peterson personally, Praria later got involved at events throughout the mid-Atlantic region as a “sutler,” selling provisions and goods to soldiers. Their products were made and packaged authentically, a reflection of Peterson’s years of research. “Every detail was considered,” says Praria. When the Pantry discontinued as a business, Praria kept a portion of it alive by forming her own organization in 2017, Mrs. Boice’s Historie Academie, which, for several years, provided learning weekends for the living history community.
(Photo by Anthony S. Fiore, Jr.)
Today, as a founding member of Spencer’s Additional Continental Regiment, Praria works to dispel common misconceptions, specifically the role of the “camp follower.” In popular imagination, the women who were followers are often unfairly characterized as having “loose morals” or as seeking questionable gains. The reality is far more grounded in the basics of survival.
“Washington was not a fan initially,” she explains, noting the logistical nightmare of having wives, children, and relatives trailing a military force. However, these women became essential. They served as nurses, handled rations, and provided the labor that kept the Army functioning. Many followed the Army because they had no other choice: with their homes occupied or destroyed, their lives were tied to the men in the field.
For Praria, the true reward of living history is often found in quiet, mindful interactions. She recounts one story of a shy little girl at the Museum of the American Revolution. Through “imagined play” — pretending to handwash garments and exploring a tent — the child eventually felt safe enough with Praria to dress up, engage, and smile.
“Every interaction is not going to be on that level,” Praria says, “but she figured out I was an ‘okay’ person to interact with … it’s those kinds of moments that are the most important.”
“It’s about the human experience,” she concludes. “Just because they didn’t have cell phones doesn’t mean they weren’t trying to take care of their families and figure out where their food was coming from.” By bringing these struggles to life, Praria ensures that the past remains a vibrant, instructional, and deeply human part of our present.
(Photos courtesy of Erik and Eliza Lichack)
Erik Lichack and Eliza Vincz-Lichack
For husband-and-wife team Erik Lichack and Eliza Vincz-Lichack, living history has become a full-time professional endeavor. For several years, they have channeled a shared passion for late 18th-century lifestyle into a specialized production house, offering everything from musical performances to expert tailoring. Their website, earlyamericanmusicandarts.com, promises to bring “the past to the present” at events. “We are part concert, part character portrayal, part pop-up history museum,” they say.
Erik Lichack’s journey into the 18th century began during a seventh grade class field trip to Philipsburg Manor in New York. The agricultural rhythms and distinct aesthetics of that living history experience left an impression on him. Furthermore, Lichack had a family connection to military service: his grandfather was a Navy officer who served at Pearl Harbor. “The whole military thing — a lot of it comes from him, too,” he says.
As a young student, Lichack was drawn to the pulse of military music, specifically the fife and drum. When his mother couldn’t find a local drum corps for Lichack to join, he gravitated toward reenactment groups as a way to practice the craft. This musical foundation eventually led him to a degree in music. Although he began his college career in percussion, he found the modern ensemble repertoire — often involving “weird stuff” like playing on brake drums — unfulfilling. He sought something with more historical gravity.
He pivoted to the harpsichord, an instrument he describes as “an orchestra at your hands.” Unlike the fife, which he admits is somewhat limited in its keys and range, the harpsichord offers a complex technical challenge. “Most people who go to school for this have been playing since they were 6 or 7,” says Lichack, reflecting on the steep learning curve of starting the keyboard in his teens. Today, he reconstructs the soundscape of early America using original late 18th-century manuscripts and resources like the International Music Score Library Project.
“The British used culture as a weapon,” Lichack explains. “The music performed in 1770s America was often imported directly from London composers like Johann Christian Bach. By recreating these performances, we’re showing the cultural weight the British brought to the Colonies.”
Aside from his music talents, Lichack is also the founder of the 15th Regiment of Foot, a British unit he chose to provide much-needed representation for the “opposition” in a field often dominated by Continental groups. His decision to go “Redcoat” was partly a matter of ancestral interest — his family has roots in the Barbados militia — and partly a matter of reenactment necessity. “We need more British,” he says. “There will be events where you have a couple hundred Patriots and far fewer on the other side. It’s not about the politics of the time; it’s about making the impression complete.”
Lichack’s command of the 15th is grounded in an abundance of well-researched archaeology. While some Revolutionary War units lack surviving documentation regarding their specific gear, he has meticulously tracked down artifacts unique to the 15th, such as specific belt plates and cap badges. This dedication to the details of the uniform ensures the unit looks exactly as it did during the 1770s.
While Lichack manages the military maneuvers, Vincz-Lichack contributes her vocals to their music and brings the social and domestic technicalities of the era to life. Her primary impression is Rebecca “Becky” Franks, a real-life Philadelphia socialite of the late 1770s who was the best friend of the infamous Peggy Shippen, Benedict Arnold’s wife.
“Becky was hilarious,” says Vincz-Lichack. “She had a lot of opinions and made them known through letters that read like modern gossip columns.” Vincz-Lichack’s portrayal purposefully breaks the stereotype of the “boring Loyalist.” She recounts a famous prank where Becky, mocking the burgeoning Franco-American alliance, fastened a black-and-white cockade to her pet dog and set it loose during a ball hosted by Martha Washington.
For Vincz-Lichack, the goal is to bridge the gap between the centuries. “I chose Becky because she makes history human,” she notes. “When I tell these stories to kids, their eyes light up. They realize that people 250 years ago had the same sense of mischief and humor that we do today.”
The couple’s business involves outfitting reenactors from Vermont to Louisiana and Texas. This requires a deep technical knowledge of 18th-century textiles and tailoring that Lichack began honing years ago while working at the Fort Montgomery State Historic Site in New York. Starting with simple tasks like sewing on buttons, he eventually moved to constructing full regimental coats and intricate headwear.
The sourcing of materials often goes global. To achieve the correct “lay” and weight for a British uniform, the wool is sourced from specialized mills in England. While modern chemical dyes have replaced the natural indigo and madder of the past, the weave remains authentic to what a soldier would have felt in 1776. Meanwhile, Vincz-Lichack hunts for silks with surgical precision.
“I find Indian silk brocades in Edison, New Jersey, that are handwoven in the same regions they were in the 18th century,” she says. “I actually just made a gown with silk Banarasi; it’s pink, it’s got flowers, and I love it!”
The technical challenges are constant and physical. In the shop, the couple produces everything from waistcoats and breeches to trousers and hats. Fitting these garments is a specialized skill; 18th-century breeches, in particular, are notoriously difficult to fit without the person present.
One of the rewards of their hard work is the creation of what Lichack calls his “own little army.” The 15th Regiment now boasts approximately 40 active members, including musicians and civilian interpreters. For Lichack, the most rewarding aspect is enabling the next generation of historians.
“We have a lot of younger guys, high school and college students,” Lichack says. “I feel that I’m giving them the opportunity to actually do this. They go to school, they take tests — the routine wears them down. Then they get to do this and they’re like, ‘Yes, this is great!’” The group provides a mentorship structure where veteran reenactors in their 40s and 50s coach the newcomers, sharing knowledge on everything from military drill to the proper way to maintain a kit.
“Our overall goal is to keep the story vibrant,” Lichack says. Through their work, they are ensuring that the Revolutionary period remains a complex, living narrative — as detailed and enduring as the hand-woven wool and silk they wear.
(Photo by Catherine Wetzell)
Jonah Horvath
The journey from a 21st-century army medic to an 18th-century regimental surgeon was a full-circle experience for Jonah Horvath.
First, though, came the childhood summer camp. “When I was a little kid, I was really into history,” says Horvath (who uses they/them pronouns). “I went to a Colonial summer camp when I was in elementary school, because my parents didn’t really know what to do with my history hyperfixation.”
In their early 20s, Horvath joined the Army, serving as a medic for two years. After an unexpected training injury required rest, Horvath turned their thoughts to what was next. Visits to the U.S. Army Medical Department Museum in San Antonio, Texas, located at the army base, stirred up memories of their colonial camp roots — in particular, a seasoned reenactor that portrayed an 18th-century century surgeon. Horvath had been fascinated by his demonstrations, begging him to share what he knew. The surgeon’s reply: “If you’re still interested when you’re 20, you can come back.” And in the end, they did: Horvath completed an apprenticeship with the reenactor, and “he taught me everything.” Upon the mentor’s retirement, they inherited a life’s collection of specialized instruments — a kit that reveals a notable level of technical sophistication.
Take, for example, the Petit-style screw tourniquet, a groundbreaking advancement of the 18th-century. This type of tourniquet allowed a surgeon to apply precise pressure to an artery, lock it into place with a brass screw, and move immediately to the next casualty. “The tools haven’t changed as much as we think,” Horvath explains. “Scalpels, retractors, and trepans are essentially manual versions of what you’d find in a modern operating theater.”
(Courtesy of the Museum of the American Revolution)
Horvath’s presentations often focus on debunking the point of view that those from the past were “dumb.’” For example, to a surgeon in 1776, practices like bloodletting were not superstition; they were based on a logical, albeit incomplete, data set known as humoral pathology — and all that they had at the time.
“If a patient is red and hot with fever, the logic of the time dictated that the red, hot fluid — blood — was in overabundance,” Horvath notes, and needed to exit the body like the fluid of any other ill person. By using a lancet or fleam to draw blood, the surgeon was attempting to restore “balance.” The technical success of the procedure was often measured by the patient’s physical response. By drawing enough blood to induce a state of shock, the patient became cold and pale. To an 18th-century observer, this looked like a successful “cooling” of the fever. “It’s always interesting to watch people realize that,” says Horvath.
Horvath divides their time between employment at the Old Barracks in Trenton and the Museum of the American Revolution in Philadelphia, in addition to engagements with the 6th Pennsylvania Regiment and the 3rd New Jersey Greys. Interestingly, they are one of only 10 to 15 medical interpreters throughout the United States.
Getting people to reevaluate their own Revolutionary War ideas — many of them myths — remains one of Horvath’s biggest challenges. But there’s also other work to be done beforehand: “Just being in front of some people as a trans person is jarring or upsetting to some folks; even before we get to the medicine part of it, there are times when I have to justify why I’m there. So it’s challenging to get people to consider not only my research and my expertise as a medic and medical historian, but to justify my place in the history community as a queer person.”
One of Horvath’s passions, however, is “fixing the way that we de-blood war in American culture”; often the physical and mental suffering that took place is just skipped over. “It’s always really rewarding when I can show people that there is an ‘after’ the battle. The crowds are able to visit the hospital tent afterwards, see the blood on the table and have to deal with the fact: ‘It did cost something.’”
(Photo courtesy of the Museum of the American Revolution)
Kenneth A. Gavin
“As far back as I can remember, American history has always been an interest,” says Kenneth Gavin, whose living history career spans over 20 years and encompasses a myriad of different roles and responsibilities. Many of his childhood weekends were spent at Valley Forge in Pennsylvania; in his earliest memories, Gavin was pulled along in a Radio Flyer wagon while his mom, a schoolteacher, read interpretive signs along the trail. Interactions with park personnel dressed in 18th-century clothing deepened the impression, “because it became tangible: somebody was bringing this to life, and bringing it off of the pages for me.”
In fact, part of Gavin’s “origin” story includes one particular visit with two Valley Forge interpreters, who gave him their undivided attention and then, as a take-home gift, a set of metal toy soldiers — a magical moment for a 9-year-old. Years later, when Gavin was working at Valley Forge himself one cold winter night, an older ranger and friend asked him, “Why do you do this? It’s so miserable out.” After Gavin recounted his toy soldier story, “the ranger’s jaw hit the floor” and he called over another retired ranger, asking Gavin to reshare the story. Afterwards, “They said, ‘Ken, that was us.’”
That touching moment clearly stayed with Gavin (the toy soldiers are still sitting on his desk), though it rested under the surface for several years. When asked about his formal entry into the world of living history, he says with a chuckle, “It was not a straight path.” After graduating with a degree in communications with a minor in History, his early career was dedicated to public relations, followed by a position administering federally-funded school grants. Public relations in the nonprofit sector came next, but Gavin also started working part-time as a Valley Forge guide around this time — a position he still holds today, giving an average of 40-60 tours per year.
Currently, Gavin’s other public history positions are too numerous to name here. Among them, he frequently offers public lectures and program consulting for Gettysburg History as a member of their Council of Historians, and serves as a principal advisor regarding Semiquincentennial living history programs for the State of New Jersey.
More recently, Gavin took on the role of vice president at the Princeton Battlefield Society — an opportunity he came into as an outgrowth of his living history work. Gavin has been instrumental in transforming the annual Battle of Princeton reenactment into a premier educational event, complete with live narration that matches the field choreography. The results are evident: this year saw a massive turnout, around 4,000 spectators, and 365 reenactors, with some calling it the best since 1977.
(Photo by Brian Wagner, BWags Photography)
Gavin himself has done multiple portrayals, including some very specific figures, ranging from the more famous John Glover (a hero of Washington’s Crossing) to the more obscure Alfred Clifton, a Roman Catholic colonel who recruited soldiers for the British in Philadelphia. The attention to detail involved is staggering, from the particular cut of coat required for the time period to the colored cockades worn on hats to signify rank or alliance. Likely due to his presence and poise, Gavin has also been a model for historical artists such as Don Troiani and featured in paintings that capture the grit and determination of the period.
There is never a dull moment for Gavin, who is also deeply involved in Spencer’s Additional Continental Regiment, a reenactment group with 40 to 45 members he co-founded four years ago. Unlike many units tied to a specific state, Spencer’s was “additional,” meaning it recruited from across the Colonies, including New Jersey, New York, and Pennsylvania. This type of regiment was a new concept at the time, born out of troop shortages, and the beginning of a truly national volunteer army.
The regiment focuses on interpreting an authentic, holistic military experience. They demonstrate musket drills, yes, but also conduct period-accurate court-martial to show the complexity of 18th-century law and social order. Gavin emphasizes that they are always careful not to be melodramatic during these courtroom scenes. “The last thing we would want is for our efforts in living history to turn into pure theater. You have to be respectful when you’re talking about the lives of people from the past.”
At the end of the day, Gavin is driven by the goal of helping people see the common threads of human experience. “For me,” he says, “the study of history is about human beings, and the challenges they face, and how they respond to those challenges in positive or negative ways, and how they then impact society. That’s how the progress of history moves forward.”
