Vicki was happy; she got to sleep-in an extra hour on Saturday July 13, 2019. My companion’s alarm clock went off at 7:00am, and that was due to the fact that we were less than one mile from our first destination of the day – Franklin D. Roosevelt’s retreat house known as the Little White House. The gates to FDR’s site opened at 9:00am and my photographer wanted to be first in line to get in; primarily so he and I could get to the house for unobstructed photos. Tom also figured that the absence of other tourists would increase his chances of getting me onto Roosevelt’s deathbed.
Once Tom and his wife had the Highlander packed and were on the road, the three of us found ourselves parked at the closed gate to the historic site at 8:40am. And best of all – we were first in line to get in. But five minutes after our arrival, another vehicle pulled up behind us and that concerned my photographer. At precisely nine o’clock, a NPS Ranger opened the entrance gate, and Vicki drove our vehicle to the parking lot. The three of us hustled to the Memorial Museum; and once the entry fee was paid, Tom and Vicki split up. While my photographer’s wife wanted to watch the film and see the museum first, Tom headed with me to the Little White House.
The plan worked to perfection; we had the entire place to ourselves for nearly 20 minutes. After a long hike from the museum to the front of FDR’s retreat house, Tom snapped photos of me as I posed near the exterior of the historic site. Franklin Roosevelt built the Little White House in 1932 prior to being inaugurated as our 32nd President in March of the following year. FDR loved Warm Springs from the moment he arrived in 1924; albeit he came to the small town in search of a cure for the infantile paralysis that struck him three years earlier. Although the constant 88-degree, buoyant spring waters brought him no miracle cure, it did seem to help, solidifying his decision to build his retreat home in Warm Springs. In 1960, John F. Kennedy delivered a campaign speech in front of the house, while Jimmy Carter kicked-off his Presidential campaign there as well in 1976.
As soon as Tom finished his shots of me posing with the exterior of the Little White House, he carried me into the cottage through a side door. The two of us were alone inside Roosevelt’s house; with the exception of two young NPS Rangers who sat together in the living room. My photographer wanted to take advantage of the fact that no other tourists had made it to the house yet, so he quickly carried me to the two most important areas for our photos – the living room where FDR suffered his stroke and his bedroom where he died. Around noon on April 12, 1945, Franklin Roosevelt sat in his favorite leather chair in the living room of the cottage while artist Elizabeth Shoumatoff began her watercolor portrait of the President. A short while later, FDR said to the artist: “I have a terrific pain in the back of my head”. Those words were no more out of his mouth and he slumped forward, unconscious in his chair. After his aides carried him into the bedroom, Roosevelt never regained consciousness and died at 3:35pm that day. FDR’s attending cardiologist determined the cause of death was a cerebral hemorrhage. Shoumatoff never finished the portrait; that work of art, known as the ‘Unfinished Portrait’, was on display in the Legacy Exhibit alongside the museum.
Following his death, the Little White House was willed to the Georgia Warm Springs Foundation and the house remained exactly the way it was the day FDR died. Tom held me up and shot numerous photos of me in the living room; he especially made sure FDR’s favorite chair was in most of the images. I laughed to myself because I knew that my photographer itched to place me onto Roosevelt’s chair, but that wasn’t going to happen with the pair of rangers in the room. Tom also figured that one of the rangers would follow us into the bedroom as well, which would put the kibosh to me standing on the deathbed. Roosevelt’s bedroom adjoined the living room and when I was carried into the small room, my photographer waited for one of the young rangers to follow us in. But they didn’t – they stayed together and chit-chatted in the living room. Not wanting to waste any time while we were alone, Tom approached FDR’s bed that was in the center of the room, and he carefully placed me onto the white comforter that covered the historic artifact. During that moment, I couldn’t believe where I was standing. At first, I envisioned the unconscious President as he took his final breath in that bed; and that thought made me very sad. After all, Roosevelt had just begun his fourth term as President, and he dedicated his final years of life to our country. But then I thought about all of the other times that he laid there; possibly dreaming about Eleanor (unlikely) or perhaps the top-secret Manhattan Project. When I was removed from FDR’s deathbed, Tom took full advantage of still being unsupervised; he quickly placed me onto the President’s desk that was situated directly across the room from the bed. Seconds after my photographer snapped the final images and removed me from the desk, one of the rangers came into the bedroom. I nearly soiled my breeches when he popped in; but the youngster simply wondered if Tom had any questions.
As we left the Little White House and headed towards the museum, Tom wanted to see and photograph the ‘Unfinished Portrait’ that was on display in the Legacy Exhibit. When my photographer removed me from the camera case as we stood in front of the famous watercolor, the framed portrait had an immediate impact on me. I knew in my heart that the artwork was near Roosevelt during his last conscious moments on Earth; and when I looked into his eyes that Shoumatoff’s brushstrokes had created, it was as though they spoke to me. I couldn’t take my eyes off of FDR’s and I quickly became mesmerized by the image in front of me. All I could think about was FDR saying: “I have a terrific pain in the back of my head.” In a separate display case that was nearby, we saw a second watercolor portrait of FDR that artist Elizabeth Shoumatoff had done from memory after Roosevelt’s death. Outside of being finished, the only other difference from the original was the color of FDR’s tie. We met up with Vicki who was still viewing the displays inside the museum.
During our time there, I posed near some of the artifacts; some of which were very cool. My photographer’s wife shook her head when she heard that I had stood on FDR’s deathbed, which followed the usual lecture: “You two are lucky you didn’t get caught and arrested. And I’m not going to bail your butt out of jail, either.” When we finished our tour of the museum, Tom and I accompanied Vicki to the Little White House. Although my photographer snapped some additional pictures during his second visit, I didn’t have to pose for any of them.
FDR’s Little White House in Warm Springs, Georgia was a place that my photographer and I had wanted to visit since we began our “Presidential Tribute” project in 2013; and it lived up to all our expectations. The best part for me: the house was a time capsule. That small cottage and its museum opened a portal into the life of Franklin Delano Roosevelt that not many Americans knew about during his Presidency. It also afforded me the honor to get an up-close look at where that life had ended as well.
It was 10:45am and we had finished our tour of FDR’s retreat house, but we weren’t finished with Roosevelt sites in Warm Springs. Our next stop was at the Historic Pools Museum, which was located a little over a mile North of the cottage. Those pools were where our 32nd President swam and used the 88-degree natural spring mineral water as therapy for his polio-stricken legs. I was excited because I wondered if the spring water would help ease the pain in my glue-filled, cracked legs as well.
The Historic Pool Museum was operated by the Georgia Department of Natural Resources; even though it was connected to the entire Franklin Roosevelt Historic Site; which included the Little White House. While the small museum had some artifacts associated with the history of their therapeutic pools during the polio epidemic, my photographer decided to by-pass the museum to take me outside to the actual pools that FDR had used in the early ‘30s until his death. It was disheartening when we were told by the two tour guides that the pools were empty; which was largely due to the lack of funds to properly maintain them over the years. In other words, they leaked and they’d seen their better days; plus nobody wanted to pay for the upkeep. Carol Morrison, one of the tour guides, mentioned that even though the pools were dry, we could still feel and smell the natural warm spring water as it bubbled up from a basin that was fastened to one of the empty pool bottoms. As a bonus, Tom purchased three small corked bottles that he could fill with the historic water and bring home as souvenirs. I smiled to myself when I heard my photographer mention to Vicki that each bottle would be filled and taken back to Michigan – one bottle was for himself, while the other two were for Rick Bieth and Earl McCartney. Rick was one of the inspirations for this blog site; while Earl says he loves to hear about my adventures, but he goes out of his way to find lame excuses not to read about them.
Tom carried me outside and down a walkway that went alongside one of the three large empty pools. The concrete walls of the pools that were once painted pure white were now stained by time and neglect. We walked down a set of steps and into the dry pool-bed where dilapidated old wooden chairs, ramps, and angled therapeutic devices were fastened in place. I was speechless; those pools were the heart and soul of what President Roosevelt believed in and they had been left in decayed ruins. As I stood on one of the wooden ramps, I envisioned FDR as he floated nearby; only his head was above the water. He smiled as the warm natural spring water made the pain in his legs subside; as it did for the dozens of polio-stricken children that he had invited to join him. After Tom had filled his three bottles with the water, my photographer carefully placed me into the waist-deep basin where the 88-degree water bubbled around my legs. Maybe it was due to my imagination, or perhaps it was the legend of Franklin Roosevelt himself, but my legs felt good for the first time since my 2015 Iowa trip when they first developed cracks.
We had spent roughly 40 minutes hanging out with Carol and visiting the pools that were first made famous by FDR in the 1930s. Once I was placed in the backseat of the Highlander, Vicki navigated our vehicle for eight miles along a winding two-lane highway that eventually led us up the Pine Mountain Range to Dowdell’s Knob, which sat nearly 1,400 feet above the valley below. Tom grabbed his camera with one hand, and he carried me in the other as we walked from the car to what seemed to be a scenic overlook. It tuned out that when FDR visited Warm Springs, there were times he instructed his aides to drive him up to Dowdell’s Knob for an outdoor barbecue. Situated along the edge of the overlook was an old stone grill that Roosevelt once used to cook his food. Over the years, the historic grill had been filled-in with concrete as a way to preserve it. As I stood on the top of the stone grill and looked to the West, I couldn’t believe my painted eyes – the view was breathtaking. I understood exactly why FDR loved it up there as it was far away from any civilization, although a small handful of other tourists had made their way to the site during my visit.
Franklin Roosevelt was driven by the Secret Service to Dowdell’s Knob for the last time on April 10, 1945. Usually when FDR made the trek to this spot, he fired up the grill for a barbecue and a picnic lunch. But that day was different; the President wanted to be alone. After the agents were asked to walk back down the road, Roosevelt sat in total solitude in the backseat of his car – he basked in the warm sunshine and gentle breeze. FDR was likely transfixed on the view to the West, the same view that I had just enjoyed from the grill. Our 32nd President sat in the car for two hours before he honked the vehicle’s horn – a signal for the agents to return. Two days after he returned to the Little White House from that excursion, Franklin D. Roosevelt died at the age of 63. The townsfolk of Warm Springs honored their fallen friend and neighbor and said that FDR often struck up conversations with others he encountered at Dowdell’s Knob. And according to local legend, some of those people that he encountered never realized that they had talked with the President of the United States. More than anything, Roosevelt wanted to be just like everyone else and to simply blend in. It sounded as though he accomplished that in Warm Springs, Georgia.
