Fifteen days after I had visited The Henry Ford Museum with my photographer and Bob Moldenhauer, I was on the road once again – but this time Vicki was with us instead of Mongo. And that meant only one thing: our short five-day trip wouldn’t be 100 percent historical. That was okay in my mind as I knew Tom would include some amazing sites for me to see, even if those sites didn’t have a Presidential connection. We left St. Clair, Michigan at 6:00am on Friday September 3, 2021 on an adventure that would take us to the Erie, Pennsylvania area and then on to Watkins Glen, New York. Due to COVID restrictions, we were forced to drive through Ohio rather than take the shorter route through Canada and into New York.
Roughly five hours into our journey, I heard the first iota of controversy from the front seat of the Jeep Grand Cherokee. It came at the moment when Vicki realized we were headed 30 miles north of Erie because Tom wanted to visit Westfield, New York – a small town where an 11-year-old girl named Grace Bedell once lived. As our Jeep rushed past the handful of Erie exits on I-90, I laughed to myself when I heard my photographer try to justify the extra 60-mile roundtrip: “Westfield is where Abraham Lincoln stopped on his way to his inauguration in 1861. At the Westfield train station, Lincoln talked to a little girl about a letter she wrote suggesting he grow a beard. That letter helped shape the face of Abraham Lincoln; the face we recognize today. I’m also sure the town has some cool antique shops as well and I know how much you love antique shops.”
When we arrived at the Westfield train station at 11:40am, I looked out from an opening in the camera case and saw the historic site appeared to be closed and under renovation. Then came the stark realization that the original Westfield station, the one that hosted Abraham Lincoln for a few minutes on February 16, 1861, was gone. In its place, likely on the same site, was another station that had been built in 1904. As Tom carried me up to the building, which appeared to be in the process of being sold, I was able to envision our 16th President as he stepped off the train and onto the station’s platform. It was a stop that Lincoln had undoubtedly looked forward to since he left his home in Springfield several days earlier.
On October 15, 1860, just a few weeks before Election Day, an 11-year-old Westfield girl named Grace Bedell picked up a pen and wrote to Presidential candidate Abraham Lincoln. Bedell wrote, in part: “…if you let your whiskers grow, you would look a great deal better for your face is so thin. All the ladies like whiskers and they would tease their husbands to vote for you and then you would be President.” Lincoln not only received the letter at his home in Springfield, he replied to Bedell a few days later: “My dear little Miss, Your very agreeable letter of the 15th is received… As to the whiskers, having never worn any, do you not think people would call it a silly affectation if I were to begin it now? Your very sincere well wisher, A. Lincoln.” Shortly after the exchange of letters, Lincoln allowed his beard to grow. By the time he began his train ride from Springfield to Washington for his inauguration, he had a full beard. When the President-elect’s train stopped at the Westfield Station on February 16, 1861, Bedell said as she recalled the event years later: “He climbed down and sat down with me on the edge of the station platform. “‘Gracie,’ he said, ‘look at my whiskers. I have been growing them for you.’ Then he kissed me. I never saw him again.”
The three of us spent about ten minutes walking around the perimeter of the train station. While I was able to envision Lincoln as he sat on the platform and talked to the little girl who had inspired his beard, that event came to life for me once we drove into downtown Westfield. Located on the corner of North Portage and East Main Streets, we found two bronze statues that were sculpted in 1999; statues that commemorated the historic event from 1861. My photographer carried me into the small park called ‘Lincoln-Bedell Statue Park’ and he placed me in the right hand of the larger-than-life figure of Abraham Lincoln. From my position on Lincoln’s large hand, I saw the face of a little girl gazing up at the bearded man she had inspired with her letter.
With a few dozen pen strokes, an innocent child from Westfield, New York changed the face of history. In my mind, I couldn’t imagine President Abraham Lincoln without his trademark beard – and it was such a cool story that he grew it for Grace Bedell.
My photographer delivered on his promise to visit the few antique shops in town, which definitely pleased his wife. As a matter of fact, that hour-long treasure hunt helped set a positive tone for the remainder of the day. When they finished browsing the stores, however, I quickly discovered we weren’t finished with Grace Bedell. It turned out that the home where the 11-year old had written her letter to President Lincoln was located only two blocks north of those shops; I knew in my heart that Tom wouldn’t leave town without seeing it. Vicki drove the Jeep to the Washington Street address where we found the modest two-story home where Grace lived with her parents in 1860. Tom carried me into the front yard where I posed for a couple of photos, but he didn’t set me onto the porch as it appeared the owners were nearby and in the process of mowing their lawn.
At a few minutes past one o’clock, Tom and I returned to the Jeep where Vicki had waited for us to finish “our thing”. The return trip south into Pennsylvania was “déjà vu all over again” for the three of us, until we reached the Erie exits, that is. Our first stop in downtown Erie was at another railroad station; and once again, it was one that had taken the place of a very historical station. As a matter of fact, it replaced two historic stations. The original Erie rail station was built in 1851 and was reported to be a “clumsy structure” or “rude brick structure”, but it served as host to Abraham Lincoln on February 16, 1861 when he stopped to address a large crowd while he travelled from Springfield to Washington for his inauguration. Lincoln’s stop at the Erie station was an hour or so before he met Grace Bedell in Westfield, New York.
Construction on the second station, known at the Union Depot, was completed in early 1866 and it featured at least two Presidential visits. The first came on September 4, 1901 when President William McKinley was travelling from Canton, Ohio to Buffalo, New York. The popular McKinley stopped at Union Depot and delivered a speech before he continued his journey to Buffalo where he was shot two days later at the Pan-American Exposition. The second President to stop at Union Depot was Theodore Roosevelt, although he made his visit to Erie on August 25, 1910; which was over a year after he left office. At the station, Roosevelt delivered a speech in which he talked about his concern with communities polluting the Great Lakes. Roosevelt told the large crowd: “I want all the people living along the Great Lakes to help in securing a purification on your water supply. If you don’t, you will regret it in years to come. You can’t afford to put sewage in your drinking water.”
The third train station, which was the huge Art Deco building that stood in front of me, was called Union Station and it opened in late 1927. While two Presidents – Franklin Roosevelt and Harry Truman – both made campaign stops at the station, it was the fact that Babe Ruth once stopped at the Erie station and ate in the diner there that made my ears perk up the most. After I posed for a handful of images from the street-side of Union Station, the three of us went inside where we discovered a true hidden gem – The Brewerie at Union Station. While the microbrewery occupied most of the ground floor and historic octagonal rotunda, the best part of all was the station’s ambience was left in tact. While Tom and Vicki waited for their food, the three of us walked upstairs and ventured outdoors to the trackside platform near where the Presidents once spoke.
I watched in amazement while my camera guy ate his burger and fries inside The Brewerie at Union Station. While I didn’t eat, mainly because I’m a bobble head, Tom’s burger looked and smelled fantastic. At one point during their lunch, I had wondered where it was in the station that Babe Ruth had once eaten during a stop. In my mind, I envisioned the Great Bambino as he wolfed-down a dozen hot dogs and guzzled a couple of beers. Ruth was no Joey Chestnut, but there was no doubt the Yankee slugger could hold his own when it came to munching “tube steaks”.
When we left Union Station, our next stop was located only three blocks to the north. I thought perhaps Tom would want to walk that short distance with me, but he insisted on riding; my photographer claimed it was to save time. I knew better. I figured it was due to the fact that his gut was still full from the burger and fries he ate at the Brewerie. After Vicki parked our Jeep alongside the Erie YMCA, Tom carried me to the nearby intersection at Peach and West 10th Street where he set me down in the middle of the road. At first I was flabbergasted – I couldn’t believe I was standing in the middle of a busy intersection in downtown Erie, Pennsylvania. And for what? At one point, however, when we had to wait for traffic to clear, my photographer’s mission had become clearer to me. That’s when I saw an image on Tom’s phone that showed Senator John F. Kennedy riding in an open car during a September 23, 1960 campaign motorcade along that very street. Although the sign of the YMCA looked updated since 1960, the rest of the cityscape along Peach Street appeared nearly identical to the image on Tom’s phone. When my cameraman set me back down onto Peach Street, it was as though I could see the smiling Presidential candidate headed towards me; he was waving to the thousands of people who had jammed the entire intersection who wanted to touch or catch a glimpse of the young Senator.
Once again, I had crossed paths with John F. Kennedy and once again it was an honor. That guy was charismatic in life and his assassination has ultimately created a legacy that’s second to none. Nearly everyone loved JFK and I’m no exception; and it’s likely our paths will cross again in the future.
Our final Presidential site in Erie was one that has become legendary over time; but the legend doesn’t shed a favorable light on the Commander in Chief. William Howard Taft was good friends with Erie entrepreneur Charles Hamot Strong, who was also one of Taft’s Yale classmates. One summer while Taft was in town, the President paid a visit to Strong’s mansion – today it’s known as the Old Main at Gannon University. While visiting Strong on a hot and humid day, Taft decided to draw himself a bath in one of the mansion’s many ivory tubs. Legend has it that as the rotund Taft lowered himself into the lavender-scented water, he became stuck in the tub and couldn’t get out.
After a short four-block drive to West 6th Street, Vicki parked the Grand Cherokee alongside the Old Main; Tom carried me to the front of the majestic mansion where I posed for a handful of photos. I had to admit, the four-story stone and brick building looked so impressive that I had hoped my photographer would try to gain entrance to the mansion’s interior. But since we heard that the Old Main was where the University President’s office was located, I knew that our chances to get inside were slim to none. As Tom set me alongside a stone pillar located close to the front entrance, I envisioned standing in one of the building’s ivory tubs – perhaps it would be the same tub that Taft got stuck in. At that very moment, I also had flashbacks of standing in Bill and Hillary Clinton’s bathtub during my visit to their home in Fayetteville, Arkansas.
As I snapped out of my fantasy state, Tom picked me up and carried me through the front door of the Old Main. I was stunned when he walked inside the mansion, and I was even more shocked that we weren’t arrested. Once my photographer had recited his usual well-rehearsed spiel about our adventures to a couple of ladies who were situated at a reception area, we were given permission to visit some of the rooms on the first floor. Unfortunately for me, however, none of those rooms were furnished with a bathtub. Altogether we were able to access three rooms, which provided us with a glimpse of the “Lifestyles of the Rich and Famous” occupants who once lived there. The two of us wandered around the main first-floor hallway and visited the small handful of rooms that were there. During our ten-minute “self-guided tour”, Tom placed me on some pretty cool fourteen karat gold leaf furnishings where I posed for some photos. In my mind, the best part of the entire visit was the likelihood that William Howard Taft had been in those very rooms as well. At the same time, however, I tried not to envision the large President getting into his bathtub.
I was saddened when we finished our “self-guided tour” of the Old Main. The 46-room home of Charles Hamot Strong left me awestruck and I didn’t want to leave. But Tom and Vicki had planned on attending the Erie SeaWolves baseball game at 6:00pm and they still needed to register at the hotel. It was roughly four o’clock when my companions lugged their luggage into our room at the Glass House Inn, which was five miles west of downtown Erie. When Tom set me alongside the TV set in the room, I was flabbergasted by how small and dated the place was. Usually my companions stay in very nice accommodations, but the Glass House Inn left me scratching my head – and probably for more reasons than one. I knew what my job would entail throughout the night: Keep an eye out for cockroaches.
Once Tom and Vic had awakened from their 45-minute “catnap”, the three of us headed for UPMC Park – home of the Erie SeaWolves, a Double-A affiliate of the Detroit Tigers. I’ve visited a handful of minor league ballparks in the past and most of them are similarly very nice. However, the stadium in Erie disappointed me. Even though the park opened in 1995, it seemed older and more dated, similar to our motel room. The game itself was uneventful, although I did enjoy listening to my photographer engage in a conversation with four young guys who were seated at a picnic table along the right field line. Minutes before my companions planned to leave the stadium at the conclusion the 7th inning, Tom wanted me to pose with the team’s mascot – C. Wolf. The last thing my cameraman said to the large gray wolf who was dressed to resemble a pirate was: “Whatever you do, please don’t drop him.” Seconds after I found myself in the mascot’s massive furry paws, C. Wolf pretended to drop me – and I wasn’t amused. Once Tom had captured his images, C. Wolf released me from his iron-clad grasp, and I was placed safely back in the camera case in preparation for the ride back to the Glass House Inn.
The Harrisburg Senators had scored two runs in the top of the 7th inning to break a 3-3 tie. When Erie failed to score in the bottom of the frame, my companions decided it was time to return to their motel. As it turned out, seven more runs were scored in the final two innings, with Harrisburg hanging on to a 9-6 victory.
It was a few minutes after 9:00pm when we finished the five-mile drive from UPMC Park back to the Glass House Inn. Tom carefully placed me next to the television set where I stood sentinel for the remainder of the night. During the entire time I was on “Roach Patrol”, something didn’t feel quite right with my legs – however, the darkness in the room prevented me from seeing any issues. In my mind, I knew it was a sensation I had felt in the past, but I wasn’t too concerned because of all the Gorilla Glue and plumber’s putty filling that had stabilized my legs from previous severe injuries. But if there was a serious issue with my lower extremities, the rest of my trip could be jeopardized as Tom forgot to bring his bobble head medical kit on the trip. All I could do was stand silently throughout the night and hope it was only my imagination playing tricks on my mind. After all, it’s not every day I’m held by a six-foot tall grey wolf who was dressed like a pirate. Now that was Eerie!
