100: INSIDE THE WHITE HOUSE; BUT WITHOUT DONALD

The alarm went off at precisely 6:00am on Wednesday May 15, 2019 and I couldn’t wait to get the day started. Over the past six years, I had visited some very famous Presidential homes, including FDR’s ‘Springwood’, John Adams’ ‘Peacefield’, Teddy Roosevelt’s ‘Sagamore Hill’, Washington’s ‘Mount Vernon’, and Jefferson’s ‘Monticello’. But on that morning, I was less than five hours away from walking through the doors to the most famous Presidential residence in America – the White House. My only concern, and that concern weighed heavily on my resin-filled mind, was whether or not I would get through the Secret Service screening before we entered the President’s home.

When the three of us hit the road, we had a bounce in our step. And for me, I had an extra bounce in my head as my spring was feeling great. I knew that our first stop of the day was going to be the President’s house; but I was surprised when it turned out to be Gerald Ford’s home and not Donald Trump’s. Tom carried me up to a two-story brick home that was located in a nice neighborhood in Alexandria, Virginia that was only about four miles from our hotel. When I first saw the house, I knew that I had been there before; it was as though I was experiencing déjà vu all over again. It turned out that my photographer’s images that he captured in 2014 weren’t great and he wanted me to pose at the Ford home again. The home was built in 1955 for the Ford’s when Gerald was a member of the U.S. House of Representatives from Michigan. Jerry and his family lived there from the time the house was built until they moved into the White House on August 19, 1974. In 1973, when Ford became Vice President after Spiro Agnew resigned, the Secret Service turned the attached garage into their command center. Following the Watergate scandal, President Richard Nixon resigned the Presidency on August 9, 1974; but the Ford’s remained in their modest Alexandria home for ten days as Nixon’s personal belongings were being removed from the White House.

When we left the Ford residence, I had wondered if we would take the same route Gerald did to the White House when he became President. Once again, however, the three of us weren’t headed to the White House; at least not quite yet. Instead, my two companions decided they wanted to visit the George Washington Masonic National Memorial that was only a mile away. When we arrived at the 333-foot tall monument to our first President that sat atop Shooter’s Hill, it was a few minutes before 8:00am. Although the interior of the Masonic Memorial wasn’t open, I was carried to the front where the three of us had a great view of the impressive structure. There were several Presidential connections with this monument; but unfortunately none of them were George Washington. After all, Washington died in 1799 and this monument’s cornerstone was dedicated by President Coolidge in 1923 and the exterior wasn’t finished until 1932. When Calvin Coolidge laid the cornerstone to the Masonic monument, he used the same trowel that George Washington used when he laid the cornerstone for the U.S. Capitol Building in 1793. Also in attendance, while Coolidge laid the cornerstone, was Chief Justice William Howard Taft. Then in 1957, Vice President Richard Nixon was on hand to dedicate the Royal Arch Room in the interior of the monument. Although Tom had me pose in front of the tall monument, it was one of my least favorite “so-called Presidential sites” that I had ever visited. Perhaps the interior would’ve changed my opinion, but at eight o’clock in the morning, there was no way that we were going inside.

Our visit to the George Washington Masonic National Memorial lasted only about 15 minutes before we were back in the car and headed towards Washington. Just as visions of the White House began dancing in my head, however, I heard Bob say to my photographer: “Do you mind if we stop at the cemetery that’s just up the road so I can visit the grave of Wernher Von Braun?” I immediately wondered if Von Braun was the dude in ‘Sound of Music‘, but it turned out that he was the aerospace engineer and space architect whose design helped put the first Americans on the Moon. That astronaut connection made perfect sense to me as to why Mongo wanted to stop at Ivy Hill Cemetery in the Rosemont Historic District of Alexandria. Then I heard Bob tell my photographer about the controversial side of Von Braun and his work with Nazi Germany. That fact alone made me hope that Tom wouldn’t place me onto his grave; even though he had played a huge part in American history.

Luckily for us, Mongo knew exactly where the small, unassuming marker was located in the large cemetery and he drove right to it. After spending about ten minutes at the final resting place of the “Real Rocketman”, we were once again headed towards Washington. My photographer was thankful that Bob was behind the wheel of the Acadia during our time in Washington; primarily because he’s an expert at navigating around our Nation’s Capital. So much so, in fact, that Mongo knew exactly where he wanted to park when we got near the White House – he thought the best place would be along Constitution Avenue where the maximum time on the parking meter was three hours. Once we killed about 15 minutes as we waited for the clock to strike 9:30am, we headed across The Ellipse where we had our first good look at the White House. Even though the Executive Mansion was off in the distance, we could easily see the President’s limousine parked directly in front of the South façade of the building. We figured that President Donald Trump had either just arrived back at his residence or he was about to depart. After Bob had taken several images of my photographer as he posed with the White House in the background, we proceeded to our pre-arranged rendezvous point for our tour.

Tom had decided to carry me in the large front pocket of his Detroit Tigers windbreaker; mainly because the rules prohibited bags of any kind inside the White House. At about 10:30am, our tour group was led onto the property where we spent the next half-hour going through a variety of Secret Service screenings. My photographer and Mongo went through metal detectors, body scans, bomb detection devices, and identification approval; all before we got close to the East-side visitor’s entrance to the White House. The only thing the Secret Service didn’t do was slap on a rubber glove. I was nervous when the Secret Service examined me; but as usual, I made it through unscathed and without any type of body cavity examination – much to my relief.

As I was carried across the threshold of the visitor’s entrance and into the White House, a sense of pride, honor, and patriotism came over my entire body. Even though the mansion had gone through numerous renovations over the years, including a complete overhaul after the British burned the President’s House in 1814, I knew for a fact that every President except George Washington had lived, worked, and entertained within those walls. While one President was married there, two Presidents and three First Ladies died inside the White House. For me, being inside that historic building was a dream come true; but was I the first bobble head in history to visit the President’s house? Perhaps, unless 13-year old Barron Trump had a Royal Bobblehead of his father on display in his bedroom. But from what I had heard about President Trump’s ego, he likely had his own bobble head on display in the Lincoln Bedroom.

As I was carried through the Ground Floor Corridor, I saw the Library, Vermeil Room, and the China Room. Those rooms looked elegant with their fine furniture, Presidential china, and paintings. I was most impressed by the large portrait of First Lady Grace Coolidge, and her collie Rob Roy, that was on display in the China Room. It was when Tom carried me up a large set of marble stairs, however, that reality set in of exactly where I was. Even though we weren’t allowed inside the East Room, which was a disappointment, I was carried along the Grand Foyer and into the Green Room. Thomas Jefferson used the Green Room as his dining room; it served as a parlor to James Madison; and when Abraham Lincoln was President, his son Willie’s body was embalmed there following the boy’s death on February 20, 1862. During FDR’s Presidency, Eleanor Roosevelt entertained Amelia Earhart in the Green Room.

From the Green Room, we walked through an open door and into the Blue Room, which was oval shaped and was the central room on the first floor.  The first thing that I noticed in the Blue Room was the three Presidential portraits that hung on the south wall; James Madison, John Adams, and of course, Thomas Jefferson was in the middle.  While the Blue Room is where the President greets most of the dignitaries who visit the White House; it was also the site of President Grover Cleveland’s marriage to Frances Folsom on June 2, 1886.  Most of the furniture in that room was original and purchased by James Monroe during the refurbishing of the White House following the British invasion.  Most notably were the gilded European beech chairs and the marble-top center table that Monroe bought for the home.  In 2013, President Barack Obama was sworn-in for his second term in the Blue Room as Inauguration Day fell on a Sunday.  A public swearing-in ceremony took place at the Capitol the following day. At one point during my stay in the Blue Room, I peered out of one of the windows and could see the Washington Monument and Jefferson Memorial between the pillars of the South Portico. I laughed to myself when I heard my photographer say under his breath: “I got in trouble from the Secret Service back in 1977 for taking a picture out of this same window.”

The last of the “colored-themed” rooms that we visited was the Red Room, which was first decorated red in 1845.  Due to Inauguration Day falling on Sunday, Rutherford B. Hayes became the first President to take the Oath of Office in the White House when he was sworn-in on March 3, 1877 in the Red Room.  That room also once served as John Adams’ breakfast room and was the place where Jefferson kept his caged magpie; which was one of his many pets.

When we got to the State Dining Room, my first thought was how impressive that room was; especially the Presidential portrait of Abraham Lincoln that hung above the fireplace mantel. Carved into that mantel was a quotation from a letter written by John Adams when he first lived in the White House: “I Pray Heaven to Bestow the Best of Blessings on THIS HOUSE and All that shall hereafter inhabit it. May none but Honest and Wise Men ever rule under this roof.” Smaller than the East Room, the State Dining Room can seat 130 guests for dinners and luncheons. During Thomas Jefferson’s administration, he used a portion of the State Dining Room as his office.  In 1802, Jefferson planned the Lewis and Clark expedition in that very room.

We walked through the State Dining Room and into the Entrance Hall where I got an up-close look at the official White House portrait of John F. Kennedy. The masterpiece was painted over seven years after JFK’s assassination and the original design was approved by Jackie.  I posed for several more photos before vacating the premises; then, my photographer snapped a handful of images of me outside of the White House as we waited to rendezvous with Mongo.  While our entire White House experience seemed to last for only a few minutes, we were inside the historic Presidential home for nearly an hour.  Once we were outside and alongside the North Lawn, all I could think about was my next White House tour on Friday.  I had figured that would be my best chance to meet the President; either during lunch or when I was visiting the West Wing at night. Either way, I knew in my heart that I wanted to pose with President Donald J. Trump.

We had roughly 20 minutes to hike back to Constitution Avenue where the Acadia was parked before our time ran out on the meter. During our two-block walk back to the car, Tom and Bob noticed that all the intersections along 15^th Street were blocked with police cars and the sidewalks were lined with spectators.  That’s when my friends realized that President Trump’s motorcade was headed back to the White House from the Capitol and we had the opportunity to see it.  During the next few chaotic minutes was when disaster struck. As Tom quickly grabbed his Nikon and camera bag from the Acadia and hurried to get back to 15^th Street to see the President, I got caught on a camera strap and found myself in a free-fall towards the concrete sidewalk and certain death.  Just as the sidewalk was about to greet my face, my photographer’s shoe broke the fall.  My resin-filled head bounced off the sidewalk with a loud clunk; but before I realized what had happened, my stunned cameraman quickly swooped me up to assess the damage.  Although my body was entirely intact with no visible damage, my head was bent to one side and I had a terrible headache.  With no time to spare, Tom placed me into the camera case; then he hustled to the street corner where we were able to see the Presidential motorcade as it whizzed by at a high rate of speed.  I had hoped that Donald Trump would see me as I poked my aching head out of the camera case; but since my head was kinked to one side, I was too embarrassed to wave. 

When the motorcade was finished and we returned back to the vehicle, Tom did his best to twist my neck back into position. In the past, my photographer has been my personal surgeon; always managing to put me back together when things went awry. That early afternoon on Constitution Avenue, however, Tom did his best to play chiropractor as he twisted my head and neck back into place. I’m not sure what he would’ve done had the spring in my neck snapped, but luckily for the two of us, it didn’t.

Once Bob moved the Acadia to a different parking place along the same street to avoid getting a parking ticket, the three of us set off on foot towards Ford’s Theater. We had planned on visiting the historic theater where President Lincoln was assassinated; then we would end our day at Mount Vernon where Tom wanted to photograph me near the bed that George Washington had died in. My head was still spinning from all of the history that I had witnessed that morning; but then again, it might have been from my near-death experience. I had stared death in the eye and survived; I figured not much more could go wrong. Or could it?