The final day of our two-week trip got under way in Marion, Ohio when the alarm sounded and woke my companions at 6:00am on Thursday May 27, 2021. Tom hustled to get himself ready because he wanted to visit Harding’s home before other tourists arrived at the site. Due to Bob’s on-going posterior predicament, Mongo decided to stay behind while my photographer and I made the earlier-than-planned visit to the historic house.
Although I had apprehensions on how our day would play out at the Harding home and museum, it couldn’t have gotten off to a better start. When Tom removed me from the camera case and set me on the front steps of the historic home, the setting was absolutely perfect. Not only were we the only ones anywhere in sight, the lighting and weather couldn’t have been better – even if everything would’ve been scripted. And I had to admit, Tom took full advantage of our “alone time” at the house. My photographer had me pose at numerous places near the front of the historic home, including one famous spot on the top step of the porch where Warren G. Harding once stood as he spoke to the huge assembled crowd in his front yard. Before we left the property, Tom and I also paid a visit to the Press House where he captured an image of me standing where Harding stood to address the media during his 1920 Presidential campaign.
I hope you enjoy the next 14 images; photos that depict my early morning visit to the Harding’s home on May 27, 2021; as well as a few historic photos that were captured during Harding’s Presidential “Front Porch Campaign” of 1920.
I was left flabbergasted by the way the Harding home looked – it was beautifully immaculate; and the ambience made me feel as though I had been transported in time back to the year 1920. As a matter of fact, I felt the presence of Presidential candidate Warren G. Harding and I thought for sure he would walk onto his porch at any moment and address the large crowd that had assembled on his front lawn.
Our visit to the Harding Presidential Center had been one year in the making. My photographer’s original idea was to bring me to Marion, Ohio for the “Grand Opening” on May 23, 2020 where he hoped to get us on the home’s first tour. But due to the pandemic and a few other unexpected issues, the “Grand Opening” was delayed indefinitely. The two of us stopped by Harding’s house in July 2020 to see the progress, which was when I got my first look at the newly constructed Presidential Library located behind the home. It was now one year and four days later and I was ecstatic that my wait was finally over – even though we had missed the opportunity to be on the first tour of Harding’s home since it’s renovation. The site was opened to the public on May 12th, two weeks before our arrival.
Tom and I returned to the hotel where we rendezvoused with Bob and I watched as they packed up their belongings for the final time on the trip. Due to the fact the three of us had 40 minutes to kill before the Presidential Library opened at nine o’clock, my companions decided to make a return visit to the Harding Tomb first. While I was once again anxious to see the Harding Memorial in the daylight, mainly because I can’t ever pass up a visit to a Presidential gravesite, the main reason I was excited to go back to the cemetery was to find the temporary tomb of Harding; which was located somewhere in Marion Cemetery.
Upon our arrival to Harding’s Tomb, Tom carried me to the front of the memorial where my resin eyes nearly popped out of my head; which would’ve required Gorilla Glue to repair. Although I didn’t notice anything different at night, that all changed in the bright sunlight – I was stunned to see how dirty the white marble of the beautiful tomb had become. My first visit to the Harding Tomb was on July 10, 2013 and the marble was pristine white. During my second visit last year, I noticed the monument seemed to have become dirtier during that seven-year period. But what I saw on that day, eight years after my first visit, was heart-wrenchingly sad. The black stains on the white marble was likely due to pollution and black algae; which was what affected the Jefferson Memorial as well. In my mind, our 29th President deserved better. It was a shame to let his final resting place fall into a state of disrepair. Although I felt helpless to change the situation, my one wish was for the city officials of Marion to notice the discoloration; put together a plan to clean the marble; and return the Harding Tomb to its original glory.
Even though the Harding Tomb looked worse for wear, it was still an honor for me to pay my personal tribute to our 29th President and his wife. As much as I loved my time there, I couldn’t wait to leave. The main reason: we were about to search for the Marion Cemetery Receiving Vault, which was the original resting place of President Warren G. Harding. My companions and I had never been to the vault before, which caused Tom to blindly drive along the roadways of the large cemetery. But after a nice woman had pointed us in the right direction, it took only a few minutes until I found myself standing in front of the historic burial chamber. Upon first glance, the Marion Cemetery temporary tomb reminded me a lot of the Werts Receiving Vault in Canton that once protected the body of President William McKinley for a few years. Tom had me pose for photos in a few locations near the vault; and at one point, I saw him try to open the iron gates that guarded the entrance. Unfortunately for my photographer and Mongo, but luckily for me, the gates were locked.
We had spent more time than my companions had anticipated at the two tombs. While Tom and Bob had planned to arrive at the Presidential Library at 9:00am so they could register for their ten o’clock tour of the Harding home, that didn’t happen. As a matter of fact, we didn’t get to the Harding Historical Site until 9:30am. When we walked through the entrance to the brand-new Harding Presidential Library, I wondered if Tom would cause a ruckus since he had been denied permission to take a single photo inside the house. And sure enough, the “big guy” didn’t let me down. As he registered with his pre-paid ticket where he received his and Bob’s wrist bands, I heard him engage in a discussion with the two women at the registration desk. He started his spiel by telling the pair about our travels, as well as a few things about my Presidential tribute blog. Then he mentioned his request for a photo-op inside the house – a request that was denied by the site manager. While I was proud of him for keeping his composure, I couldn’t help but notice him make a few sarcastic remarks about the management and how peeved he was that his request was denied without a valid reason. At one point, he even took a few jabs at President Harding; which I didn’t agree with. I understood my photographer’s frustration; and to be honest, I wasn’t fond of being turned down either. At a minimum, I thought site manager Sherry Hall should’ve taken the time to meet me and my camera guy, but that didn’t happen. When Tom finally finished his sarcastic-but-controlled tirade, the three of us killed about ten minutes inside the museum before we met our tour guides on the front porch of the Harding house for our 10:00am tour.
When that much-anticipated home tour began, I nearly laughed out loud as there were two tour guides assigned for the ten people in our group. Before we entered the home, I heard Tom say to Bob under his breath: “They have two tour guides assigned for our small group and it’s likely the job of one of them to keep an eye on me so I don’t sneak a picture inside the house. Hall probably gave them a heads-up to watch out for the guy with the bobble head.” My photographer finished his short discussion with Mongo by saying he had no intention of sneaking a candid photo at the spot where the Harding’s were married; but he said he planned on holding me in his hand throughout the entire tour; just to make the guides nervous. Heck, I didn’t mind one bit – it gave me a great view of the home’s interior.
Tom carried me from the historic porch, through the front door, and into the foyer. In a blink of an eye, we had been transported back in time one hundred years. From the moment we entered the home, I knew the President and his wife were there with us – I could feel their presence; especially when my photographer and I stood near the staircase in the foyer. It was there, on July 8, 1891, when Warren Harding married Florence Kling DeWolfe. It was also at that precise location where Tom had hoped I would pose for a single photo – a photo that never happened. But in my mind, none of that political stuff mattered much to me. I’m just a bobble head who was honored to be looking at that historic foyer with my own painted eyes. That meant more to me than words could describe; for it was there, near that staircase, where I formed a spiritual bond with Warren and Florence Harding – a bond that not even a site manager could foil.
The three of us toured the entire house – from bottom to top and back down again. We visited most of the lower level first, then I was carried up “my” staircase to the upstairs bedrooms. There was no doubt about it – Harding’s home was far better than I could’ve ever imagined. Over ninety percent of the furnishings and artifacts inside the home were once owned and used by the Harding’s; and in a strange sense, Warren and Florence were still using them. During my time inside the historic home, I took a few minutes to think about Harding’s final trip – a rail journey in 1923 where he became the first President to visit Alaska. As a matter of fact, Harding foresaw Alaska becoming a state at some point in the future. He was a true visionary.
Unfortunately, he never envisioned what was about to happen at the Palace Hotel in San Francisco. After he had felt an upper abdominal discomfort in Washington State, his entourage arrived in San Francisco on July 29th and rushed the President to his hotel room to recuperate. At first, the peace and quiet away from the public seemed to work. But at 7:32pm on August 2, 1923, while Florence was reading to him, Harding suddenly died of a heart attack in bed. Back in Marion at Harding’s home, which had been rented to a local businessman while the Harding’s resided in the White House, a clock near the staircase of the foyer had mysteriously stopped. The time? It was exactly 10:32pm on August 2, 1923.
Our tour of the home was finished. While Tom talked with the two tour guides at the rear of the house, I bid a personal farewell by nodding my head to President Harding and his wife Florence. I loved their home; it was one of the best Presidential residences I had ever visited – mostly because of the ambience. There was also no doubt, at least in my resin mind, that Warren and Florence were there – and that alone was worth the price of admission!
But we weren’t done, not by a long shot. The three of us wanted to finish our tour of the Presidential Library where dozens of Harding artifacts were on display. And as a consolation prize, he was told by Hall via email that he could take all the photos he wanted inside the museum; which of course he did. I posed alongside some cool items, including his 1900 Senate desk; Harding’s suit that he wore at his inauguration; and a Mahjong set that was given to him at the Palace Hotel shortly before he died. But the pièce de résistance for me was when I posed close to the chair that Warren G. Harding had used in the Oval Office.
There were numerous personal items of Harding’s on display in the museum that were either impossible for me to pose near or they weren’t significant enough to pose with. Overall, the Harding Presidential Library was excellent; it was definitely better than the Presidential Library’s of Bill Clinton, George W. Bush, and Herbert Hoover. I had stood so close to Harding’s Oval Office chair that I nearly touched it; and that was such an awesome experience I was virtually walking on air when we headed for the exit. But before we could get out of the exhibit area, however, a woman wearing a face covering approached the three of us and demanded that my companions put on face coverings. When I saw her name tag and it read ‘Sherry’, I thought to myself: “Oh boy, this isn’t going to turn out well.”
During the first year of the pandemic, Tom was religious about wearing a face mask whenever he was in public. As a matter of fact, he even wore a mask outdoors during our Presidential tour of 2020. My photographer had been a vocal advocate for mask usage before the COVID vaccinations were available. But in March of 2021, both he and Mongo were vaccinated – Tom received the Pfizer shots, while Bob was injected with the Moderna vaccine. Due to their vaccination status, as well as the signage on the museum door that stated “We encourage all visitors to wear face coverings while inside the museum”, my photographer drew a line in the sand with Sherry. He replied without hesitation: “We are both fully vaccinated and we’ll let you see our cards. The sign on your door also stated it was encouraged to wear a mask; not mandatory.” When she sternly repeated her demand for my companions to don their masks immediately, Tom bristled and said: “What if we don’t?” I could tell he was extremely mad – and likely for more reasons than one.
I admit I was shocked when he put on his face mask; and quite frankly, I was disappointed. That’s not usually his style – he always puts up a fight for what’s right. And in that instance, my photographer was one hundred percent right and that woman had no business to do what she did. In my resin mind, it was simply retribution for what Tom had said earlier at the registration desk. We were finished in the museum anyway and it really didn’t matter if we were booted off the property; although in my opinion, that would’ve been a huge mistake on her part. When Bob made a last-minute stop in the men’s room, my masked photographer glared towards the three women seated behind the registration area – including the one who scolded us only minutes earlier. As Bob returned to where we sat, Tom stood up, ripped off his mask, and stared defiantly at the woman. They locked eyes. Through an opening in the top of the camera case, I could see both of them staring at each other and I could feel the tension through the padded sidewalls. A minute or two passed before Tom slowly walked towards the exit; his eyes never left hers until we went through the doorway and outside.
Tom got behind the wheel and the three of us headed north out of Marion, Ohio. It was a very poor ending to a great Presidential visit – and it was all because someone in a position of power tried to flex their muscle. I know someday we’ll return to the Harding sites, and that someday will likely be sooner rather than later. Hopefully some things there will change; and change for the better. However, I wasn’t about to hold my breath at posing for a photo inside Harding’s house. I think that bridge was burned, and Tom held the match!
My photographer had 60 miles and over an hour to get the Harding experience out of his mind. Luckily for Bob and I, Tom seemed to be in good spirits when we arrived at the Fremont, Ohio home of President Rutherford B. Hayes. As we pulled into the parking lot of Spiegel Grove, I had flashbacks of 2013 when a tornado hit the area during our visit and nearly destroyed our car. Luckily my photographer and I, along with Tom’s wife, had taken shelter in the Presidential museum’s basement and escaped injury.
In March 2019, Tom brought me to Spiegel Grove after he received permission to photograph me inside the Hayes mansion. The two of us were escorted into the home and I was photographed in two rooms – Hayes’ library and the master bedroom where he died. My photographer figured interior photography was still outlawed and he mentioned to Bob that we wouldn’t be joining him on the tour. Instead, the two of us went to a nearby McDonald’s where Tom purchased a handful of burgers to take back to the parking lot of the Presidential site. After my hungry camera guy devoured the four burgers as though they were Lifesavers candy, the two of us headed out on foot to see the exterior of Spiegel Grove where I once again stood on the magnificent porch and posed for photos. Shortly after we began our walk, however, Tom received a text message from Bob. Our friend’s message stated that photography was allowed inside the home. But for us, at least in Tom’s mind, it was too late to join the tour. And that was okay in my mind, too. The two of us enjoyed a slow-paced, relaxed walk of the grounds where my photographer and I ended up at the grave of Rutherford B. Hayes. While there, we paid our respects to our 19th President and his wife Lucy. During our time inside the fence-enclosed burial ground, the two of us met Steven Stacey, a grounds keeper at Spiegel Grove. Steven was full of energy, very friendly, and he helped my photographer and me find the graves of Old Whitey and Old Ned, two horses that were buried on a wooded hillside just outside the fence.
At roughly 2:30pm, Mongo emerged from the house where he met us outside the small burial ground. Tom and I sat on a park bench while Bob spent a few minutes visiting the gravesite. When our friend was finished, the three of us walked back to the Rogue where we began the one-mile drive to the final stop of the trip – Oakwood Cemetery.
First Lady Lucy Webb Hayes died on June 25, 1889 at the age of 57 from a stroke she suffered at Spiegel Grove. The President was devastated and said of her death: “The soul had left Spiegel Grove.” Rutherford had his beloved wife Lucy buried at Oakwood Cemetery beneath a large granite marker near the center of the burial ground. Less than four years later, on January 17, 1893, President Hayes passed away at the age of 70 from a heart attack. In my mind, he likely died of a broken heart. Following the funeral, a procession led by President-elect Grover Cleveland and Ohio Governor William McKinley followed Hayes’ casket into Oakwood Cemetery where the 19th President was laid to rest next to Lucy. They remained together in Oakwood for 22 years until their son Webb had the Presidential couple reinterred at Spiegel Grove in 1915.
For me, it seemed good to be back at Oakwood Cemetery after a two-year absence. Like last time, in May of 2019, I stood on the large granite marker that looked nearly identical to the one I had visited thirty minutes earlier at Spiegel Grove. Even though I knew the grave was empty, it was still cool to be there – primarily because President-elect Grover Cleveland and Governor William McKinley spent time at the site when Hayes was laid to rest in January 1893.
I had to admit, it was a bittersweet moment for me when I stood on the original tombstone of Rutherford B. Hayes. Tom, Bob, and I had been on a remarkable two-week trip and it was over. We had met a countless number of people on our adventure; and it was those friendly folks who had interacted with the three of us that made our trip special. Except for one person in Ohio, each had made us feel welcomed and their hospitality will never be forgotten. During those two weeks, we visited the graves of 11 Presidents and 14 Signers of the Declaration of Independence; along with hundreds of historic sites. I also will never forget my close encounters with the Brood X cicadas – it’ll be 17 years before we meet again.
It took about two-and-a-half hours for us to travel 170 miles from Fremont, Ohio to Mongo’s house in Marysville, Michigan. I figuratively held my breath throughout our time in Ohio as I waited for the Ohio cops to stop our car and issue Tom a citation for speeding; like they had done in 2019. But I was proud of my photographer as he kept his pre-trip vow of going “ticket-free” the entire way. We made it home unscathed by the police, or any other evil entity for that matter, at 5:50pm. When Tom placed me back on the shelf alongside my Presidential bobble head friends, I knew in my resin heart that we had left some unfinished business along the route we had just travelled – mainly due to COVID restrictions. To me, that meant only one thing: We will go back and next time, we won’t come up short!
