When the alarm clock went off at exactly 6:00am on Thursday May 16, 2019, my first thought of the new day was I was happy to be alive. Although my head was still kinked slightly to the right and both of my legs looked like I had stepped on a land mine, I was ready to see the sites of Washington D.C. Paul Mitchell, who was Tom and Bob’s Congressman from their 10th District in Michigan, had his office staff organize specialized tours for the three of us. We toured the White House on Wednesday morning, which was a dream come true for me; but we weren’t finished there. On Thursday, we were scheduled to tour the Capitol at 11:00am; followed by a visit to the Bureau of Engraving and Printing that was slated for 4:00pm.
About 25 minutes after we left our hotel in Alexandria, Mongo had the Acadia parked around the corner from the National Air and Space Museum. That parking place that Bob found was located at the edge of the National Mall on 4th Street and it was perfect for our touring needs. There was a maximum meter-time of three hours, and we were near most of the sites that we had planned to visit. My companions figured that whenever either one of them came near the vehicle, they would pump more money into the meter; mainly to avoid getting a parking ticket. On past trips, it seemed as though Tom and Mongo have had a history of getting tickets.
With me riding in the camera case, the three of us began our hike across the National Mall towards Ford’s Theater at around 8:20am. The sky was overcast, and the morning temperature was already in the high 80s, which made the eight-tenths of a mile walk a bit uncomfortable for my companions. We stopped once in the middle of the Mall to capture images of the Capitol Building and the Washington Monument in the morning light; we also made a quick detour to see the National Archives building as well. Although the Archives didn’t open until 10am, which meant we wouldn’t be going inside, Tom and Bob have held a special place in their hearts for that building. On the Fourth of July in 1976, my two companions stood in line for over six hours to see the Declaration of Independence on its 200th birthday. In a sense, that was the day their admiration for historical sites took on a life of its own. And nearly 43 years after that Bicentennial Day, they were back where it all began. Maybe they weren’t quite as fast as they once were; and perhaps they require more breaks now and then; but their enthusiasm for history is as strong as ever.
By 8:45am, we had arrived at Ford’s Theater and immediately obtained our entry tickets. We made our way to the museum located in the basement of Ford’s Theater and the three of us had to wait a short time before we could enter the actual theater. Tom and Bob’s mission was simple: The two of them wanted to be the first visitors into the historic theater where they intended to capture pictures without others in the way. They also wanted to make their way into the Presidential box viewing area; a place that was closed to the public during our visit in 2014. The theater opened and we hurriedly made our way to the Presidential box, but unfortunately for us the doorway where John Wilkes Booth entered the box to assassinate Lincoln was once again closed. After I had posed for a few photos inside the theater, I was carried downstairs and back into the museum where I got to see numerous artifacts associated with President Lincoln’s assassination. I spent about ten minutes staring in wonderment at the small Philadelphia Deringer that Booth had used to shoot the President. During that time, I couldn’t take my painted eyes off the gun’s barrel. As I looked at the end of the weapon, I envisioned it being just inches away from the back of Abraham Lincoln’s head when Booth pulled the trigger. That dastardly act not only snuffed out the life of a great man; it also changed the course of history forever.
Roughly an hour after our arrival, we left Ford’s Theater and headed back for the car that was parked nearly a mile away. I laughed as my photographer huffed and puffed during the brisk walk, but we had little time to spare and no time to lollygag. Not only did we have to put more money into the parking meter, we were also scheduled to be at the Cannon House Office Building that was located on Capitol Hill by 10:45am. Some of the gloomy cloud cover had parted and we could see blue sky overhead. Although the blue sky was welcoming, the temperature was not – the mercury in the thermometer had reached the low 90s and it made the uphill hike to Congressman Paul Mitchell’s office a bit more taxing; at least for my rotund camera guy.
Finished with the exhausting journey, we were about to enter the Cannon Building when Mongo received a text message from his good friend Scott Gast. Bob and Scott had met at an astronaut event in 2006 and have been friends since. Gast also happens to have a very interesting job – he’s the Senior Council to the President, Donald Trump. Scott was the one who had arranged our Friday morning White House tour; the noon lunch and evening tour of the West Wing. I was immediately concerned when Mongo said aloud: “Oh no, this isn’t good. Scott just texted me and said he was in NYC with ‘the boss’ and he will do his best to get back in time for our lunch. I’m assuming he means he’s in New York with Trump. We’ve talked about that lunch for weeks and now it might not happen; I just got a sick feeling in my stomach.” I knew my photographer was worried as well, but all we could do was wait for more information from Scott. After all, we still had a little over 24 hours before the scheduled West Wing lunch with him and a lot could happen in that time frame. If I could’ve crossed my resin fingers at that moment, I would have done it – we needed some luck on our side.
Some luck was on our side as once again I made it through the security screening without incident. My companions used an interior office map to locate Congressman Mitchell’s Room 211; which was the only reason we were able to arrive before the 11 o’clock rendezvous time. Our efforts didn’t come without consequences, however, as my photographer’s feet had once again begun to cause him pain; but luckily not enough agony to slow him down much. The three of us were highly disappointed when my photographer asked if we could meet Paul Mitchell. I knew that Tom wanted to photograph me in the hands of Congressman Mitchell; and I thought the photo-op would be cool as well. Unfortunately for us, Staff Assistant Emily Saleme said that Mitchell was back in Michigan on vacation with his family. Tom also had hoped that Emily would have a connection so that she could get us inside the Lindy Claiborne Boggs Congressional Women’s Reading Room where John Quincy Adams had died in 1848, but she bailed on us as well. Instead, our tour guide was a young University of Michigan student named Ethan who worked at Mitchell’s office as an intern. It turned out that Tom and Bob seemed to know more about the Capitol than he did; but in his defense, it was Ethan’s first week on the job and my companions aren’t the easiest ones to lead on a tour. Both of them ask a lot of questions; both guys do advance research associated with the site; and both guys have a dislike for period pieces or exact replicas. Once the youngster had guided us through the underground tunnel system, through security, and into the bowels of the Capitol, the three of us were relatively on our own when it came to the interesting sites. I laughed to myself when my photographer and Mongo switched roles with Ethan by pointing out interesting facts about the Capitol to him; and quite frankly, he seemed appreciative.
Not wanting to hurt our young tour guide’s pride, we spent roughly 45 minutes touring the Capitol. We were a bit disappointed because we didn’t see anything out of the ordinary; everywhere we went were places the general public can visit on a regular tour. When we got to Statuary Hall, where I saw the locked door to the Congressional Women’s Reading Room, I heard my companions mention to Ethan that they had to bail on him because of a conflicting commitment, which was a complete fabrication of the truth. Once the three of us were alone, we navigated the underground passageway to the Library of Congress where I posed for a handful of images. In 2014, I had stood inside the Library of Congress for some photos, but there were no images of me taken with the exterior of the building; which was an oversight that my photographer needed to rectify.
I finally posed near the exterior of the Library of Congress before we headed across the street to spend some time posing near the exterior of the Capitol Building. The walk back to the Acadia was slightly better for my photographer as it was downhill and seemed to be less painful on his feet. At the car, Tom and Bob grabbed a quick drink before they popped more coinage into the meter. The three of us had well over two hours of sightseeing time before our scheduled tour at the Bureau of Engraving and Printing was slated to begin. With that much time to kill, we set out on foot to the National Air and Space Museum that was located just around the corner. Inside the museum that plays host to nine million visitors per year, it seemed as though all of them were there at the same time as us. It also seemed like every school kid that was at Mount Vernon a day earlier was inside that museum as well. While Mongo knows his way around the Air and Space Museum better than he navigates through his own home, Tom also had a keen sense of where the interesting exhibits were as well. What impressed me the most about those two guys was how much stuff they can admire and the amount of information they can absorb in a short period of time. We saw the historic aircraft; as well as artifacts used by the astronauts; then my companions still had time for a quick bite to eat.
In Washington D.C., my photographer and Mongo never seem to waste any sightseeing time, which was the reason we headed back across the National Mall to the National Museum of American History. While there were several Presidential artifacts inside that Tom wanted to see and photograph, the main reason that he wanted to visit that museum was to see if The Scarecrow’s costume from the movie ‘The Wizard of Oz’ was on display. In 2014, Tom provided some sarcastic and negative feedback to a museum staff member when he discovered the famous costume wasn’t on display during our visit. As soon as we entered the building, I had hoped that the costume was there so I didn’t have to hear Tom’s opinionated comments again. I had also hoped that my photographer would take me directly to the Presidential stuff first; but that didn’t happen. Instead, Tom made a beeline to the area where the movie and television artifacts were housed. From an opening in the camera case, I was able to see some cool items – including Edith and Archie Bunker’s chairs from the TV show “All in the Family”.
Then he saw it. A short distance away, Tom noticed a room that was decorated in an ‘Oz’ theme and my photographer couldn’t walk there fast enough. In the center of that room was a large show case that had one artifact on display – Judy Garland’s Ruby Slippers. They were one of five pairs that are known to exist, although as many as ten pairs may have been created for the movie so that Dorothy Gale could dance her way down the Yellow Brick Road in style. After photographing the historic movie pumps that were covered in red sequins, Tom noticed a display case on a nearby wall that contained two more props from ‘The Wizard of Oz’ – the hat worn by The Scarecrow and the wand used by Glinda, the Good Witch of the North. While the Scarecrow’s outfit worn by Ray Bolger was nowhere to be seen, his hat was the next best thing; and it seemed to pacify my COBS-infected photographer; at least for this trip. I heard him say out loud, however, that he questioned as to why the Scarecrow’s costume wasn’t on display again. “There was a lot of extra room in the Ruby Slippers case where they could’ve put the Witch’s wand; and Ray Bolger’s scarecrow outfit could’ve easily been on display with his hat. It’s a shame that the Smithsonian has that costume in their possession and people can’t always view it; that’s one item that should never be rotated out or put into storage – especially with some of the useless stuff that they have on display. The Wizard of Oz is as American as apple pie and those ‘Oz’ props need to be seen by every American who steps foot inside that museum”.
With little time left to browse the museum, we headed for the room that contained some Presidential memorabilia; but we had only minutes to see what was there. I was able to pose near an overcoat and hat worn by Grover Cleveland during his first inauguration, as well as a microphone used by FDR during his famous “Fireside Chats”. Our time in the National Museum of American History had come to an end; we had less than a half hour to make our way to the Bureau of Engraving and Printing that was nearly a mile away. It was late in the afternoon and my companions had already walked a long ways to get to the sites that we had already seen; and with the way my photographer was walking, I knew that his “dogs were barking” with each step he took. As for me, I sat back and enjoyed the scenery through the opening in the camera case. Mongo decided to run to the car and move it closer to the next site; which proved to be a logistical nightmare of its own when he was forced to park near the Tidal Basin. Bob also had a surprise when he reached the Acadia as well – there was a $30 parking ticket conveniently tucked under the windshield wiper blade. Even though our meter had never expired at any point during our time in that parking spot, the “more-worried-about-parking-offenders-than-they-are-about-criminals” District of Columbia police had monitored our vehicle and noticed it had been parked there longer than three hours. And they were right; our Acadia had never moved from that same spot for over eight hours and it cost my friends some cash. I nearly laughed out loud when Mongo told my photographer about the ticket; I knew it would just add to Tom’s already long list of reasons why he doesn’t always appreciate the efforts of the cops – and that’s putting it mildly. It was also the third ticket that my pair of companions had been issued since travelling together; they were slapped with a parking ticket in Princeton, New Jersey in 1991 and Tom was issued a speeding ticket on the Ohio Turnpike in 1989.
Our tour of the Bureau of Engraving and Printing, which was made possible by Congressman Paul Mitchell’s office, was better than we could have expected. Although photography was prohibited inside the area where our “paper” money was printed, it was an eye-opening experience to see the millions of dollars-worth of U.S. currency that was either going through the machines or was already stacked on pallets. During our time on tour, five-dollar bills were in the process of being printed; and we saw the extensive process from start to finish. When our tour had concluded, Tom purchased an uncut sheet of two-dollar bills; which delighted me because Thomas Jefferson’s face graced the obverse side of each bill.
At roughly 5:00pm, we made our way back to the Acadia that Mongo had parked near the partially man-made reservoir known as the Tidal Basin. From our location, we could easily see the Jefferson Memorial that was majestically situated across the 107-acre and 10-foot-deep Tidal Basin. As much as I had hoped that our next stop would be at the Jefferson Memorial, it wasn’t, although we did drive close to it during the seven-mile trip to Congressional Cemetery. From my view in the back seat, I also saw the stadium lights of Nationals Park in the distance as Washington was hosting the New York Mets in a Major League Baseball game that night.
Tom and Bob had visited Congressional Cemetery during their 1991 Declaration of Independence Tour as Signer Elbridge Gerry had been buried there. But Gerry’s tombstone was not Tom’s intended target of interest this time. Instead, my photographer set out on foot into the historic burial ground to locate the Public Receiving Vault. That’s right; he wanted to photograph the temporary tomb of three Presidents – John Quincy Adams, William Henry Harrison, and Zachary Taylor. When all three men died unexpectedly in Washington; Adams in the Capitol and the other two in the White House; their bodies were placed into the public vault at Congressional Cemetery until they could be transported to their final resting places near their homes. Adams was interred in the tomb for about a week before he was moved to Massachusetts. Harrison’s body was inside the vault for almost nine weeks before it was transported to Ohio. And Zachary Taylor’s remains stayed there for over three months before they were eventually moved to Kentucky. And the longest stay of all was Dolley Madison; whose body stayed inside the tomb for nearly three years.
After about ten minutes of wandering aimlessly around the burial ground, Tom found the temporary tomb that was located along a small pathway near the center of the cemetery. The tomb featured a pair of steel entrance doors with holes drilled through the plated surface that spelled “Public Vault”. The face of the tomb that surrounded the doorway, as well as the exterior of the chamber, looked to be made of granite. After Tom had me pose for several photos in front of the vault, I was ready to be placed back into the camera case. But at that moment, my worst nightmare came to life. My photographer opened the doorway to the tomb and I immediately knew that we were going inside. Fortunately, and much to my surprise, there were several tables and folding chairs that were stored inside; which made the burial chamber seem less-creepy than I had initially envisioned. When Tom carried me down the steps and placed me onto the chamber’s brick floor for a few images, I thought to myself: “I sure hope that door doesn’t slam shut behind him right now. We might get locked in and never get out because Mongo doesn’t even know we’re inside here.” I had to believe that my photographer was having the same thought, as well, because he never strayed very far from the opened door for too long. There was one other Presidential connection that popped into my resin mind while I stood on the floor of the Public Vault. It’s widely believed that Lewis Powell, one of the conspirators in the Lincoln assassination, spent the night of April 14, 1865 inside the tomb as he avoided pursuit from the authorities. Normally I love to stand in the footsteps of the Presidents, but I was not comfortable standing inside the dank burial vault where three dead Presidents once laid. There was a definite feeling of creepiness for me and I was relieved when Tom carried me back outside into the daylight.
As we headed towards the section of the cemetery where my photographer thought he would find the grave of Elbridge Gerry, the two of us crossed paths with Mongo. Tom mentioned to our friend that we had just been inside the temporary tomb, and at first, Bob couldn’t believe what he had told him. Then when it sunk in, Moldenhauer couldn’t wait to go inside the vault himself. I laughed to myself when Mongo emerged from the tomb and said that he worried about getting locked inside as well.
It took a little over ten minutes to track down the grave of Elbridge Gerry; but once we did, Tom immediately placed me onto his tombstone for a photo. When Gerry died on November 23, 1814, he was the Vice President in James Madison’s administration. And although Gerry had served as VP for only 18 months before his death, he was more than the second-in-command to us. Elbridge Gerry was a delegate to the Second Continental Congress; he voted for and signed the Declaration of Independence in 1776. Eleven years later, Gerry was a member of the Constitutional Convention in 1787; but was one of only three men who refused to sign the United States Constitution because it did not include a Bill of Rights at the time. The other two men who declined to autograph the document was George Mason and Edmund Randolph.
For me, it was an honor to stand on the tombstone of Elbridge Gerry and salute a true American patriot; not to mention, he was the only Signer of the Declaration of Independence buried in Washington D.C. There was one final grave that Tom wanted to see in Congressional Cemetery and that was the final resting place of J. Edgar Hoover – former FBI Director. Mongo had pointed us in the right direction, and we quickly found Hoover’s grave after a short walk. From an opening in the camera case, I could see the Hoover family plot that was surrounded by an iron fence. There was a lot of bushes and vegetation on the plot. So many, in fact, I thought it made the gravesite appear cluttered and unkempt. When J. Edgar Hoover died from a heart attack on May 2, 1972, he had been the Director of the Federal Bureau of Investigation for about 48 years. Hoover was never married, and he was laid to rest next to his parents and a sister who died in infancy.
It had been a long day for the three of us and I could tell that Tom and Mongo were ready to relax for the evening. We left Congressional Cemetery at 6:10pm and we headed back to our hotel in Alexandria. The nearly 12-mile drive seemed to take forever as the late afternoon rush-hour traffic out of D.C. was terrible. My photographer decided he wanted Jet’s pizza for dinner, which we picked up at a place that was located near our hotel. I had originally wondered if Tom and Bob would visit IHOP for a third straight night, but that never happened.
Once I was placed alongside the television set where I had spent the past two nights, my thoughts quickly turned to the next day. While we had fun and we saw a lot of great things during our time in Washington, except for the parking ticket, we had much bigger fish to fry on Friday. After all, it was the day we had anticipated for weeks; the day that Tom and Mongo penciled-in as the highlight of the trip; and the day we were scheduled to have lunch inside the White House. But the black cloud of Scott Gast’s text message still hung over Tom and Bob’s head and my two companions were concerned that their lunch in the West Wing would be cancelled at the last minute. I heard Mongo say to my photographer before he turned out the lights: “I know that Scott will do everything he can to meet us for lunch. Right now, there’s nothing we can do except hope he makes it back to Washington in time. That’s going to be on my mind until I hear a confirmation from him tomorrow.” Throughout the night, I thought about my photographer dressed up in a suit coat and tie; which was the required dress code for lunch in the West Wing. All I’d ever seen him wear in the past was a tee-shirt and baseball hat; perhaps I won’t even recognize him tomorrow. Then I said a little prayer to myself: “As I lay me down to sleep; and dream about the Presidents past. Please make everything go as planned; and let me meet Scott Gast.”
