danajohnhill.org | Hard Times Come Again No More

However simple it might once have been to visit our nation’s capital and its hallowed halls of government, it is simple no more.  Some things are practically off limits, like the White House, where one must first request permission from his congressman, who, in turn asks the White House, which, in turn, denies the request.  No more can a citizen simply queue up in the morning to take a tour. The staff at the Honorable Cliff Stearns’ office did their best, I am sure, to get me in, but, in the end were only able to get me a tour of the Capitol itself, and, even then, only the House side, and not the Senate.  I’m not complaining, mind you.  As you shall hear, that was itself impressive.  But it is a shame that a few bad apples have spoiled things for the bunch of us.

Few representatives and senators have offices in the actual Capitol building.  There are large offices surrounding it, though, and the one I was told to go to was the Rayburn House Office Building.  On the third floor is a long hallway of congressional offices, and each representative’s state is indicated by the flag outside their door.  They are in no discernible order, so the representative of my district (“The Fightin’ Sixth!”) might be next to a district in California or Arizona or Ohio.  Cliff Stearns is a Republican, so there were photos of him with President Bush on the walls of his office.  When I was there Stearns had just been reelected, and was, therefore, not in Washington.  But his intern, Blair, was there to give our group the tour.  She was joined by another intern–and UF grad–from down the hall at Corrine Brown’s office.  Brown represents the east side of Gainesville, and much of rural Alachua County.  Her intern was tagging along to learn the tour better.

The tour began by heading down to one of several basements in the Capitol complex, where a long tunnel took us under Independence Avenue.  Heading up some narrow stairs we came out in the Capitol itself near the Chestnut-Gibson Memorial Door, named in honor of the two Capitol Policemen who died in the line of duty in the summer of 1998 defending the building and its occupants from a maniac.  Jacob Chestnut and John Gibson lay in honor in the Capitol rotunda before burial at Arlington National Cemetery, and the new Capitol Visitor Center will be named for them when it opens.

One floor below the rotunda is what is called the crypt, which was originally designed to be the final resting place of President Washington.  But, since he was buried at Mount Vernon instead, the crypt now is used as a storage area for the Lincoln catafalque.  And a gift shop.  Plus, in the center of the room is a star marker on the floor that indicates the geographic center of Washington, DC. Nearby is the old Supreme Court chamber, used between 1810 and 1860.

Up one floor is the magnificent rotunda.  It wouldn’t be possible to exaggerate the magnificence of that vast space.  The inner dome appears to rise so high above the floor that you wouldn’t be surprised to learn that the figures on the fresco were life size or larger.  The guide explained to me that tours of the dome are available…for those accompanied by their senator or congressman.  So, I won’t be having one of those tours any time soon.

The old House chamber is a great open room now called Statuary Hall, where each state has a statue of a favorite son (Florida’s is Edmund Kirby Smith).  The floor is vast and shiny, and in several places bronze squares replace the stone.  On these squares are printed the names of former members of congress who went on the be presidents.

To reach the present House of Representatives, you must pass through even more security.  No cameras, cellphones, bags or anything else are allowed in.  Visitors leave their belongings with an attendant before passing through a metal detector.  The chamber is smaller that it appears on television.  And though congress wasn’t in session while I was there, the gallery was nevertheless populated by at least a dozen police officers, just sitting and watching the otherwise empty room.

The United States Capitol is a magnificent building.  Everything is the maximum level of fancy.  It’s like a palace. When the tour was done, I got to ride on the miniature subway that whisks congressmen back and forth between the Capitol and their offices.  That was neat.

Next time: the United States Supreme Court and the Library of Congress.

Filed under: History, Travel on November 21st, 2008 | No Comments »

The National Portrait Gallery is yet another of the Smithsonian Institution’s fantastic museums.  The building in which it is housed, and which it shares with the American Art Museum, was Washington’s old post office, then was a hospital during the Civil War, where Walt Whitman volunteered.  The gallery most famously contains the portraits of the presidents of the United States.  (Normal Rockwell’s Nixon is good.)

But I was pleased to see how many other wonderful paintings and sculptures were.  Some were surprisingly old, others were simply beautiful to look at.  There were paintings of authors like Mark Twain, Henry James, Louisa May Alcott, and a child Edith Wharton, and statesmen like Ben Franklin and a young Frederick Douglass.  I am a big fan of marble sculpture, and some of what was there was extremely impressive.  I wish I would have taken pictures of some of the eighteenth century American furniture that was on display in some of the rooms upstairs.  It’s not the sort of think I’d choose to have in my house, but the highboys were beyond compare, made of the finest woods, with elaborate carving.  Alas, I forgot to take pictures.

While I was at the museum I had the place practically to myself.  Wandering through parts of the building it was just me and the security guards.  Any many parts of the building were as impressive as the art works.  The courtyard was cool, too.

Ford’s Theater is not far from the White House.  It was one of the biggest theaters in the city when Lincoln went to see a production of Our American Cousin.  The Petersen House is directly across the street from Ford’s Theater, and it was that proximity that led the slain president to be placed in a bed in a room on the first floor which the Petersens rented to a fellow who happened to be out for the evening.  President Lincoln never regained consciousness, and died in that room the following morning.  I learned all this from the National Park Service ranger stationed in the Petersen House with whom I had a long conversation alone in that very room.  It was an odd and sad feeling.

Filed under: History, Travel on November 15th, 2008 | No Comments »

Mount Vernon is a remarkable place.  George Washington himself called it the finest plantation in America.  Granted, he could hardly be considered an impartial judge, but, considering that he never told a lie, and, having surveyed the estate myself, I cannot disagree with his assessment.

The yellow line Metro from D.C. terminates at Huntington Avenue in Alexandria, Virginia.  To reach Mount Vernon you can take the No. 101 bus for a couple dollars, or, like me, miss that bus and take a $25 taxi ride to save forty minutes.  That expense was worth it, however, considering what I saw, and would not have had I waited longer at Huntington Station.  The historic site is managed not by the National Park Service, but since 1860 by the Mount Vernon Ladies’ Association, so there is a fee to enter.  But, again, compared to what one may see about the place, the price is a bargain.

There is a visitor center at the entrance to the grounds, and within are a gift shop (of course), a restaurant, theaters which show educational films, and a museum with more authentic papers and artifacts than I could believe.  Perhaps I had just assumed that such priceless treasures would be housed at the Smithsonian or National Archives, and, indeed, I would see Washington’s hand written inaugural address at the Library of Congress.  But in the museum at Mount Vernon are many articles of clothing, swords and arms, furnishings and decorative objects that belonged to George and Martha Washington.  So, too, are Washington’s horrifying dentures.  Let’s just say that dental science has come a long way.  During my visit there was also an exhibit of presidential china, which was lovely and fascinating.

As you leave the visitor center you follow a path that leads around some trees and soon come upon the great green lawn beyond which lies the mansion itself.  The exterior walls of the house might appear from a distance to be made of stone.  In fact, it is wood siding with beveled edges.  The intricate plaster ceiling of the obnoxiously painted small dining room is original.  The rooms inside are occupied by an astonishing amount of furniture and objects original to the house.  A modest leather chair in the library was the one in which Washington sat as president of the United States.

Outside, the gardens are vast and lovely, though a bit bare in early November.  Still, in the orchard was a fox jogging up and down the grounds, and there were ample sheep, as well.  Beyond an astonishing cedar of Lebanon lies the tomb of the Father of Our Nation.

Mount Vernon sits high on the banks of the Potomac River.  From the back porch of the mansion, looking across the wide river to the dense woods, which much look much the same as they did in the late eighteenth century, with the leaves every different color of autumn, I could easily understand why Washington loved the place so much.  It is a national treasure.

Filed under: History, Travel on November 14th, 2008 | No Comments »

Today is Veteran’s Day, but a week ago, on election day, I took the Metro across the Potomac to Arlington National Cemetery.  The first time visitor is bound to be most impressed by the vastness of the place.  The white marble grave stones seem to stretch off to infinity, past the trees and rolling hills.  The sheer number of markers is almost overwhelming, arranged in neat rows only deformed by the irregularity of the landscape.  You don’t need to look far to find a cross inscribed with the gold letters that indicate that a recipient of the Medal of Honor lies beneath it.

The Tomb of the Unknown Soldier is prominently situated near a memorial amphitheater in the middle of the cemetery.  The honor guard that keeps watch over the tomb is precise and focused; their uniforms are impeccable.  Following the changing of the guard, I watched three wreath laying ceremonies, one on behalf of the Italian ambassador to the United States, who was flanked by a dozen or so Italian military officers, themselves in fancy uniforms covered with medals and ribbons.

Of course, the grave of President John F. Kennedy is at Arlington, and Mrs. Kennedy is buried at his side beneath the “eternal flame” at the foot of a grassy hill below Arlington House.  A few short steps from the president’s grave is that of his brother, Robert.  The marker is as modest as can be, but there is a fountain behind it with quotes from the slain senator, including from his famous speech in Indianapolis following the assassination of Dr. King.

Of all graves in the entire cemetery, though, the one most scenically situated is that of Pierre L’Enfant, the architect of Washington, DC.  From his monument you can see across the river, to the Lincoln Memorial and beyond.  It was overcast while I was there, but on a clear day the view must be spectacular.

L’Enfant’s grave lies in the garden of Arlington House, a memorial to Robert E. Lee, who lived there with his wife, whose family built the mansion.  Lee met, proposed to, and married Mary Custis all within that building’s walls.  Six of the Lee’s children were born in the house.  The day I was there the building had begun undergoing restoration, so all the furniture had been removed.  But I did get to walk upon the original wood floors that are still in place upstairs, on the floor where the family’s bedrooms were located.  The National Park Service ranger even showed me a room usually off limits, which the Lee’s used as storage, but which still has original finish on the walls.  In a museum nearby, many of Robert E. Lee’s personal possessions are on display, including insignia from the general’s uniform, and a lock of George Washington’s hair which he kept in a small decorative pin.

That might be all most visitors to Arlington bother to see.  But I remembered the Maine.  The mast of that ship stands above a monument to the sailors who died in the explosion that sank it.  The ship’s bell and anchor are also there.  Oddly, right beside that memorial is one that came as a complete surprise to me: the grave of Jan Paderewski.  Who knew?

Few people probably take the walk out to the memorial to the Confederate soldiers buried at Arlington.  The monument is large and elaborate; the sculpted figures are actually rather affecting.  There is also another tomb for unknown soldiers–2,111 of them–at Arlington.  Erected in 1866, it holds the remains of unidentified dead from several Civil War battles.

Arlington is a cemetery, and a beautiful and peaceful place.  It wasn’t as emotionally wrenching for me as the Normandy American Cemetery and Memorial was when I visited there in 2001.  I suppose that may have something to do with the fact that many of the graves at Arlington are of men who served honorably in battle, then went on to live productive and fulfilling lives.  Few, if any, of them died where they are buried.  At Normandy, I could not escape the fact that almost everyone buried there was younger than I was when I visited.  The location of the cemetery there, right above the beach, creates a vivid impression of cause and effect: here was a great and terrible battle; here is what it wrought.

But Arlington is a sacred shrine to the memory of countless men who wore the uniform of their country, and I doubt there is a better place to be laid to rest in this country.  Alas, as I was reminded by the repeated sounds of 21 gun salutes during my visit–indicating funerals that were being held as I wandered–it will continue to be filled.

Filed under: History, Travel on November 11th, 2008 | No Comments »

Sunday, November 2nd was the day chosen to view the great monuments on the National Mall.  The closest Metro stop is in front of the Smithsonian castle (where, in James Smithson’s crypt, you can see some of his books, which include volumes of Samuel Johnson), which is a bit of a hike to the Washington Monument, and a very long walk to the steps of the Lincoln Memorial.  Between those two landmarks is the relatively new World War II Memorial, right at the end of the reflecting pool.  It’s a sober and dignified design, with a central fountain surrounded by stone pillars inscribed with the names of America’s states and territories, and large arches at either end representing the Atlantic and Pacific theaters.

The walk along the north side of the reflecting pool takes you near the Vietnam War Memorial.  It is a profound monument, with the names of every fallen soldier inscribed in black marble.  It personalizes the conflict in a way other memorials cannot.  The nearby Korean War Memorial is poignant and underrated.

The Lincoln Memorial is awesome.  What you cannot tell from looking at a penny is how spectacularly large the structure is.  Seeing how it dwarfs the crowds of people standing upon its steps is the only clue you have when seeing it from a distance.  The seated Lincoln is enormous.  His Second Inaugural and Gettysburg Address adorn the walls on either side of the temple.

The National Museum of American History was, alas, closed until November 21.  But the National Museum of Natural History was open, and, though I thought that, in some ways, it is inferior to the Field Museum in Chicago, the Smithsonian does have the Hope Diamond, and everybody loves that.  Plus, I got to touch a rock from Mars.  So, in the space of two days I touched pieces of Mars and the Moon.

Sunday was the only genuinely cold day during my trip, and I felt especially uncomfortable on my long walk back to the subway.  The weather had turned cloudy and sometimes misty.  Later in the week it was supposed to clear up, but it didn’t until Friday, which was very warm, but Saturday the 8th it was overcast and drizzling again in the morning.

Monday morning I walked the few short picturesque blocks up Connecticut Avenue to the National Zoo, part of the Smithsonian.  It’s totally free, but almost nobody was there.  The cool, cloudy weather meant most of the animals were up and about.  I saw the fishing cat putting its paws in the water.  The pandas were sleeping in the trees.  Some of the animals’ habitats were empty.  I gathered that the animals had been moved somewhere else.  But I did get to see an octopus and a centipede, and in the bird house I saw a magpie eating a lizard, a toucan and had a close encounter with a kiwi.  That is one weird bird.  Even more bizarre: a black squirrel.

In the afternoon I went to the United States Holocaust Memorial Museum.  Photographs are not allowed in the exhibit, for obvious reasons.  Needless to say, the museum is both disturbing and heartbreaking.  This trip made me even more convinced that authentic artifacts have much more power than replicas or reproductions.  So, while the photos were wrenching and the boxcar was evocative, it was a large room piled high with the shoes of Holocaust victims that was the most personal.  Most affecting for me, though, were two genuine bunks from barracks at Auschwitz.

In future updates I go to the National Portrait Gallery, Mount Vernon and the Supreme Court.

Filed under: History, Travel on November 10th, 2008 | No Comments »