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204: THE NIGHTMARE RETURNED DURING MY DENTURE ADVENTURE

Thomas Watson2 Comments

I was relieved when Tom’s alarm rang at 6:30am on Tuesday May 17, 2022, primarily because I had survived the night. Two things haunted me from the moment my photographer turned out the room’s lights until the morning’s sunlight slipped past an opening in the curtains – Linda Blair’s face in ‘The Exorcist and George Washington’s dentures at Mount Vernon. And quite frankly, I’m not sure which looked more hideous.

The three of us left the Comfort Inn Pentagon City at roughly 8:45am with our destination set for Washington’s ‘Embassy Row’ and President Woodrow Wilson’s home. It had been eight years since my first visit inside Wilson’s house, but unfortunately that tour was cut short because the site had already closed for the day. Even though I was able to stand on the 28th President’s deathbed in 2014, I looked forward to seeing the entire three-story brick mansion on that sunny Tuesday morning.

Once we had arrived at Embassy Row, I quickly realized what the biggest headache most visitors face while in our nation’s capital – parking. For over 20 minutes, Tom drove the Jeep up and down each street within a few blocks of Wilson’s house without any open parking places in sight. Spots that seemed to be open were reserved for members of an embassy, which infuriated my photographer and Bob to no end. Just as my companions had begun to verbally assault the foreign embassies in the area, Tom pulled into a spot along 24th Street. We were three blocks north of the historic Wilson House, but a half block south of the Embassy of Islamic Republic of Afghanistan. Even though we didn’t have any other options, Tom was apprehensive to leave the Jeep parked there.

My photographer’s gut feeling didn’t go away once we made the three-block walk to the historic site, either. As soon as Woodrow Wilson’s beautiful home came into view, so did a couple of shady characters who stood near a parked car in front of the site. I’m not a bobble head who likes to judge people; okay, most people; but I would’ve guessed those two guys were possibly dealing drugs and they were in no hurry to move for us. As Tom carried me past the suspicious pair, I couldn’t wait to get inside the safe haven of Wilson’s House – but that didn’t happen. Even though their website showed the place had been open since nine o’clock, the home’s inner doors were locked tight. A phone call to the site revealed a staffing shortage was the reason for the unplanned closure. Even though my photographer pleaded with the person on the call to allow the three of us inside for a self-guided tour, his usual well-rehearsed spiel fell on deaf ears. When I heard Tom’s phone become deadly silent, I hoped we didn’t face the same fate in front of Wilson’s home. I figured my companion’s cameras must’ve made the two suspects extremely nervous, but that didn’t slow down Tom and Bob one iota.

President Woodrow Wilson bought this Washington D.C. home in December 1920 and retired to it when his second term in office ended on March 4, 1921.
A crowd gathered at the home of Woodrow Wilson in 1919 when he proclaimed November 11th as Armistice Day.
Woodrow Wilson’s last public appearance came on November 11, 1923 when he stood on the balcony above me and spoke to a group gathered in front of his home.
President Woodrow Wilson was helped by a servant to his porch on his 65th birthday – December 28, 1921.
I love to stand in the footsteps of the Presidents. It was here, on Woodrow Wilson’s 65th birthday, the 28th President was photographed standing on his porch. I wondered if he watched a drug deal in progress on that day!
Less than four years after moving into this home, Woodrow Wilson died in his upstairs bedroom on February 3, 1924 at the age of 67.
Woodrow Wilson stood on his porch and greeted well-wishers on his 65th birthday. It was at this time when the former President recited his favorite limerick: “For beauty I am not a star, there are others more handsome by far. But my face – I don’t mind it, for I am behind it. It’s the people in front that I jar.”

During the three-block hike back to the Jeep, I wondered to myself: “Is Tom trying to kill me in Washington? Two days ago, I nearly drowned in the Potomac River. Last night I survived a potential demonic possession in Georgetown, as well as nearly getting abducted by aliens in Arlington. And today, I was exposed to a potential drug deal on Embassy Row. What’s next? Another encounter with George Washington’s false teeth? Maybe I should pray we don’t go there!”

Ironically, I wouldn’t have to wait long to pray. Moments after we left Embassy Row, I heard my photographer mention to Bob that we were headed to church. But it wasn’t an ordinary church, mind you, it was the Cathedral of St. Matthew the Apostle where President Kennedy’s funeral was held on November 25, 1963. Parking along Rhode Island Avenue was scarce, but my photographer got lucky when Bob spotted an opening not too far from the enormous place of worship. The parking place was a smidge tight, and Tom relied on his well-honed parallel parking skills to get us parked, but for some reason he couldn’t get the Jeep into the space. Once Mongo managed to calm him down, he stepped out onto the sidewalk and guided my photographer into the spot with hand gestures; although they weren’t the same hand gestures Tom had used moments earlier.

St. Matthews Cathedral was established in 1840 and has hosted several notable events in the past – including funerals for two members of the Supreme Court and a Mass celebrated by Pope John Paul II in 1979. But it was in 1963, three days after the assassination of President John F. Kennedy, that put the Catholic church on the map. While millions watched the funeral service on television, it was a single moment in front of the church that broke America’s heart. As the caisson, borne with the flag-draped casket of President Kennedy, began its long journey to Arlington National Cemetery, the three-year-old son of JFK raised his little hand to his forehead and gave an innocent salute to his father. When my photographer placed me on the precise spot where little John-John stood nearly 60 years earlier, my resin-filled heart flooded with sorrow. While it was sad enough to think about the small child as he saluted his dad’s casket, the fact that he did it on his third birthday broke my heart completely.

Historic Cathedral of St. Matthew the Apostle, established in 1840, was located seven blocks north and two blocks west of the White House.
The flag-draped casket of President John F. Kennedy was carried down the steps of St. Matthews after funeral services on November 25, 1963.
St. Matthews was the third church I had visited on the trip that was associated with John F. Kennedy. The first was St. Stephen the Martyr Catholic Church in Middleburg, Virginia and the second was Holy Trinity in Georgetown.
I had a chance to pose for this image inside the beautiful and ornate St. Matthews Cathedral. As I stood there, I envisioned JFK’s casket as it was carried along the main aisle next to me.
This image was captured during the funeral service for President Kennedy.
In my mind’s eye, I could see JFK’s flag-draped casket as it stood in solitude within the circle in front of the altar.
Archbishop Richard Cardinal Cushing of Boston offered a Pontifical Requiem Low Mass during JFK’s state funeral on Monday, November 25, 1963
It was an honor for me to stand on the precise location where President Kennedy’s casket had been placed for his Requiem Mass.
When the funeral Mass was finished, the President’s casket was carried to an awaiting caisson for the long journey to Arlington National Cemetery for burial.
A photo is usually worth a thousand words, but in this case, it was worth only 26 words and a handful of numbers.
When President Kennedy’s funeral concluded inside St. Matthews Cathedral, the casket was carried through the doors behind me and down the steps to the awaiting caisson.
The entire JFK assassination was tragic and left the country in a state mourning for a long time. However, it was a moment that happened where I’m standing that broke the hearts of millions.
With his grieving family beside him, three-year-old John F. Kennedy, Jr. saluted his father’s casket in front of St. Matthews Cathedral.
I love to stand in the footsteps of our Presidents, but this spot was one of the saddest and most heartbreaking places I had ever stood.
On his third birthday, November 25, 1963, John-John saluted the flag-draped casket of his father. Mrs. Jacqueline Kennedy, Caroline Kennedy, and the President’s brothers Edward and Robert Kennedy stood behind the brave boy.
John F. Kennedy’s coffin was loaded onto the horse-drawn caisson directly in front of me for the three-mile journey to the President’s gravesite in Arlington National Cemetery.

When we finished our visit at St. Matthews Cathedral at high noon, my companions decided they wanted to find a place to park along the National Mall where Tom and Bob could easily walk to the Willard Hotel and several other nearby sites on their agenda. The major stumbling block soon became obvious: it was high noon in Washington D.C. on a beautiful late spring day. Parking along the street near the National Mall was as rare as hillbilly teeth, which quickly agitated my photographer. After several attempts at finding an opening along Constitution Avenue or any of the adjacent side streets proved to be futile, I heard Tom as he pulled the plug on their scheme: “We just wasted 45 minutes driving in circles without any luck and my patience has run out. Let’s go out to Mount Vernon and spend the rest of the day there; we can come back to this area tomorrow when street parking opens up at nine-thirty in the morning.”

The moment I heard we were headed to George Washington’s plantation estate ‘Mount Vernon’, a complete sense of utter eeriness consumed my entire resin body. That horrific feeling wasn’t due to our first President’s beautiful mansion or his final resting place, it was because of George Washington’s “Wooden Choppers”. During my second visit to Mount Vernon on May 15, 2019, I was forced to pose for photos next to the display case that featured Washington’s dentures. Seconds after I heard the click of the camera’s shutter, I slipped out of Bob Moldenhauer’s hands, and I crashed face-first onto the marble floor below. Everything went black; my body was numb; and my injuries were extensive. I suffered a broken neck, which completely severed my head from my body. I also had two badly mangled ankles and a shattered right thigh that exposed my stainless-steel femur. While my photographer/surgeon had assured Mongo that my injuries were repairable, Tom secretly had his doubts once he had picked up the pieces of me from the floor. In his mind, I was beyond repair and our seven-year journey had come to an abrupt end.

But that was then, and this was now – and there was a chance that we wouldn’t revisit George’s choppers. After all, the primary reason for another return visit to Mount Vernon was because photography was finally permitted inside the mansion. During our first two trips to Washington’s home, Tom wasn’t allowed to take pictures inside the mansion, although he managed to candidly snap an image of me near the deathbed of our first President in 2019. But for some reason, that senseless, communist-like rule was abolished, and my photographer was antsy to get me and his camera back inside Mount Vernon.

It took roughly 45 minutes for the three of us to make the 17-mile trip along the George Washington Parkway to Mount Vernon. Fifteen of those minutes were dedicated to my photographer’s stomach, which he stuffed with a few McDonald’s hamburgers near Alexandria, Virginia. Upon our arrival at the Visitor Center, Tom and Bob purchased their tickets for the 2:15pm tour of the mansion – which meant we hustled to make the quarter mile hike to the historic home in time. For three hours, my companions and I toured the home where George Washington lived and died; we walked the same grounds he had walked; we paid our respects at Washington’s tomb; and we visited a museum dedicated to our first President. I enjoyed every moment of our time at Mount Vernon, except for roughly ten minutes near the end of our visit.

This was my first view of Mount Vernon; that particular side was known as the West Front. The mansion was constructed around 1734 by George’s father, Augustine Washington. The first President became sole owner of the estate in 1761.
On April 23, 2018, President Donald Trump and First Lady Melania Trump visited Mount Vernon with French President Emmanuel Macron and his wife Brigitte.
Tom captured this image only a few minutes before we entered the home for our tour. It seemed good to know that he wouldn’t have to sneak photos of me posing inside the home.
The first room we visited was what Washington called his “New Room”. It was the last addition and featured the grandest space in the house.
The three vases on the ‘New Room’ fireplace mantel were presented to George Washington in 1786 by English merchant Samuel Vaughan. As a matter of fact, the Italian marble mantelpiece had arrived at Mount Vernon the previous year as a gift from Vaughan.
The 14-foot-high Palladian windows to the right were part of Washington’s 1787 second wave of renovations. The tall windows not only helped illuminate the ‘New Room’, but they also gave visitors a grand view of the Potomac River.
The ornate fireplace mantel in Mount Vernon’s dining room was created by William Bernard Sears in 1775.
I’m standing in the Front Parlor at Mount Vernon. Before the ‘New Room’ was added, the Front Parlor was “the best place in my House”, according to General Washington.
The portrait of Colonel Washington was painted by artist Charles Willson Peale in 1772 at Mount Vernon and is the first known likeness of George ever created.
George Washington added the black walnut staircase to the Central Passage in 1758. When George brought Martha to Mount Vernon after their wedding, he requested “the staircase ought also to be polished in order to make it look well.” I thought it was incredible to stand on the same spot where George Washington’s hands once touched.
This was the bedchamber of George and Martha Washington. Our first President died in that bed on December 14, 1799 at the age of 67. The couple had always referred to this room as “Mrs. Washington’s chamber”.
The large white chair was used by Martha Washington from 9am to 10am daily when she meditated, read, or prayed in the bedchamber.
I’m standing in George Washington’s study, which became his retreat from ever-present family and friends at Mount Vernon. No one was allowed in this room without George’s invitation.
The study was located on the first floor directly below the Washington’s bedchamber. George kept his clothes and shaving kit behind the door to the right and he would get ready for the day in that small, private closet.
The chair beside me was George Washington’s “uncommon chair” that he used as his official office chair throughout his Presidency. It featured a roller mechanism beneath the seat, which allowed the chair to swivel.
The wooden trunk next to my feet featured Washington’s nameplate and was used by the General in 1783 to transport his papers and other valuables back to Mount Vernon after the Revolutionary War.
The kitchen, which was situated in a separate outbuilding near the mansion, was where hired servants and Marth’s enslaved workers prepared the daily meals at Mount Vernon.
In the distance behind me, near the West Front of Mount Vernon, was an outbuilding known as ‘Servant’s Hall’ that Washington had added in 1775.
It was disappointing when we visited the mansion’s East Front as scaffolding had encased the entire piazza.
The magnificent view of the Potomac River was not necessarily a natural occurrence. George Washington graded the East Lawn, managed the height of the trees, and maintained the lawn to more fully show the river.
The piazza on the East Front had a practical function – it caught the river breezes on hot and humid Virginia days. George and Martha loved to serve afternoon tea and coffee to visitors and family members seated in comfortable Windsor chairs on the porch.
This painting depicted General George Washington and his wife Martha as they received French Generals at their Mount Vernon estate.
The South Lane at Mount Vernon featured numerous outbuildings, including the Washington’s smokehouse, storeroom, laundry, and the infamous dung repository.
The Old Tomb was where George and Martha Washington were first laid to rest following their deaths. Their bodies remained in that tomb until 1831 when the new tomb was constructed.
Behind the locked wooden door was where the bodies of 22 Washington family members were laid to rest following their deaths. Some of those family members included George’s older half-brother Lawrence and Martha’s daughter Martha Parke Custis.
In his 1799 will, George Washington stipulated that a new tomb be constructed for the Washington family. In 1831, the bodies of George and Martha, along with 20 other family members, were transported from the Old Tomb to the New Tomb.
President George W. Bush and First Lady Laura Bush visited the interior of Washington’s tomb on February 19, 2007.
Once again, I couldn’t get close to George Washington’s sarcophagus because of the locked gate.
At one point during our visit, we saw a black racer crawl inside the New Tomb and disappear behind the wall. A historically funny thought popped into my resin-filled head when I saw the snake: “Don’t Tread on Me!”
The marble sarcophagi of George (right) and Martha Washington were too large to fit inside the tomb’s doorway in the background. Family members installed a roof over the two crypts which created a brick vestibule that sheltered the sarcophagi.
On January 8, 1942, President Franklin D. Roosevelt visited Washington’s tomb with British Prime Minister Winston Churchill.
Two granite obelisks were erected in front of the Washington Tomb. The monument on the right was erected in memory of George’s nephew Bushrod Washington, who inherited Mount Vernon when Martha died in 1802. The obelisk on the left was erected in memory of John Augustine Washington II, George’s grandnephew, who inherited Mount Vernon from his Uncle Bushrod in 1829. Both men, and their wives, were entombed in the Washington vault.
This painting depicted President James Buchanan and British Prince of Wales Edward Albert as they paid their respects at Washington’s tomb in October 1860.
I’m standing on the Bowling Green with the West Front of Mount Vernon in the background. The Servant’s Hall (left) and Kitchen (right) flank the mansion.
My final glimpse of historic and majestic Mount Vernon came at the West Gate near the Bowling Green. At one point, while I stood on the wooden barrel, a foreign tourist came up and snapped a few pictures of me. I laughed when I heard Tom tell the guy: “That’ll be thirty dollars, please. And I only take U.S. currency!”
Once we were inside the museum, Tom placed me on this Windsor armchair that once stood alongside George Washington’s bed when the General died on December 14, 1799.
This chair was the original “Uncommon Chair” that George Washington used as his official office chair while President. The chair inside Mount Vernon was obviously a replica.
Then I saw THEM! The only surviving full set of dentures used by George Washington. They were not made of wood, but instead were fashioned from ivory, animal teeth, as well as the teeth from humans.
Welcome to my nightmare – three years and two days after I nearly fell to my death at the same spot, I was forced to recreate that moment. Thankfully, Bob maintained a death grip on my legs, and I escaped the photo-op unscathed.
The final exhibit I saw at Mount Vernon was a sculpture of 45-year-old George Washington on his horse, who I thought looked like Mister Ed. As a matter of fact, I could’ve sworn I saw the horse’s mouth say: “Hellooooo Wilbur! My mother didn’t raise her horse to be a jackass!”

When my painted eyes saw George Washington’s dentures for the first time since May 15, 2019, my nightmare transformed into reality. I stared at the hideous-looking choppers with bated breath; I didn’t want to re-create the near-death experience from three years ago. But I had no choice; Tom pulled me from the camera case and handed me to Bob, who said with a slight hesitation: “I’ll do my best to not drop him this time.” Mongo didn’t sound overly confident, and that was a huge concern – at least to me. However, my photographer had no qualms. Believe it or not, Tom said to Bob just seconds before the stunt: “You’ll be fine; you won’t drop him this time. And if you do, it’s no big deal. I have a whole tube of Gorilla Glue in my Bobble head medical repair kit and I’ll just put Humpty Dumpty back together again.”

Bob Moldenhauer grasped me tightly in both hands as he squatted down behind the display case. At first, it was déjà vu all over again. However, when I heard the click of the camera’s shutter, I kept staring at the “spring-loaded miniature bear trap” inside the glass enclosure. I was still in one piece. When our photo-op had finished, I laughed to myself and thought: “I knew I was safe in Bob’s hands. When one falls off a horse, they must get right back in the saddle again. Let’s giddy up!”

I had a bounce in my step and a wiggle in my neck when the three of us returned to the Jeep. I was ecstatic – I had survived Mount Vernon. We arrived back at the Comfort Inn Pentagon City at roughly 6:00pm and my travel mates looked exhausted. For dinner, Tom and Bob heated up their leftover Chinese food from the previous day. While the pair had discussed the possibility of another night tour of D.C. again, that idea quickly dissolved after dinner. Instead, my photographer and his friend relaxed while they brainstormed Wednesday’s itinerary for Washington, which included a tour of the Capitol Building and a potential meet and greet with our Congresswoman Lisa McClain.

My photographer extinguished the room’s lights at 11pm and I was left alone in the darkness. As I stood alongside the television set and watched over my slumbering friends, one question filled my mind: “Would I finally get to stand on the sofa where John Quincy Adams died in 1848?” As a matter of fact, I envisioned getting carried into the original Speaker’s office and placed onto the green upholstered box sofa that’s been in that room since the 1840s.

There was a single black cloud that hung over the Capitol, at least in my mind’s eye. Although Lisa McClain’s staff assistant Ben Danforth had secured our Capitol tour with a group from California, there was no guarantee our Congressional Representative would be available to meet us or be able to let us inside the Lindy Claibourne Boggs Congressional Womens Reading Room. It seemed as though getting into “Fort Knox” was more difficult than pulling teeth. But that was okay with me – after all, I knew where I could get my hands on a nice set of dentures!

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Thomas Watson

My name is Thomas Watson and I've been a U.S. history fanatic since I was 9 years old. In 2013, I decided to take my passion to the next level when I purchased a Thomas Jefferson bobble head with the sole intention of photographing that bobble head at Presidential sites. From that first day on July 10, 2013 at Spiegel Grove in Fremont, Ohio, this journey has taken on a life of its own. Now, nearly 40,000 miles later, I thought it was time to share the experiences, stories, and photos of Jefferson's travels. Keep in mind, this entire venture has been done with the deepest respect for the men who held the office as our President; no matter what their political affiliations, personal ambitions, or public scandals may have been. This blog is intended to be a true tribute to the Presidents of the United States and this story will be told Through the Eyes of Jefferson. I hope you enjoy the ride!

2 thoughts on “204: THE NIGHTMARE RETURNED DURING MY DENTURE ADVENTURE”

  1. The day certainly started off badly with the parking issues, salty-looking characters and the Wilson home closed to visitors. But visiting St. Matthew’s Cathedral was huge! I have always wanted to visit it, and we finally did. My. Vernon is always special, but I was much more nervous than TJ when it was time to visit Washington’s false teeth!

    One thing about Washington, DC, there is never a shortage of amazing things to do!

    Reply

    1. There was no excuse for the Woodrow Wilson home to be closed to visitors. The damned person who answered the phone could’ve taken us on a tour. I had the utmost confidence while you held TJ next to George’s choppers. However, I’m not sure Jefferson felt the same way! Washington, like most large cities, has its fair share of “salty characters”; and you know what, those characters always have the same thing in common! How ironic!

      Reply

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