In less than 36 hours after I had returned from Chicago, my pony tail had been re-attached and I was back in the camera case headed for another adventure. The trip was scheduled to be eight days long and take us to Washington D.C. and Baltimore, Maryland; but only half of that time was set aside for Presidential sites. For the other four days, my photographer was slated to be in White Marsh, Maryland for a safety conference – where once again he donned his makeup and platform boots for his ‘KISS Injuries Goodbye’ presentation with Mark Mortimer.
For the first time since I had been travelling with my photographer to Presidential sites, we had someone else with us other than his wife Vicki. Tom’s long-time friend and fellow historical enthusiast Bob Moldenhauer was onboard and he was equally excited to tour our nation’s capitol. Tom and Bob have a long history (no pun intended) of historically themed road trips; including their most ambitious adventure in 1991 when they visited the homes and gravesites of all 56 Signers of the Declaration of Independence on one continuous17-day trip.
In our rented Kia Optima, we made the 575-mile jaunt on Friday July 18, 2014 to Washington in an impressive eight hours and fifteen minutes. We parked near the magnificent National Cathedral, which was the second largest church building in the United States, where the three of us prepared for the first Presidential sites of the trip.
Once I was carried through the doors and into the massive interior of the National Cathedral, I was on a mission; a quest to locate and stand on the tomb of our 28th President Woodrow Wilson. The President was just one of about 200 people entombed in the cathedral and his final resting place was located in a nave that was named after him – the Wilson Bay.
President Woodrow Wilson died at the age of 67 in his home on February 3, 1924 from a stroke. Although he was originally entombed in the Bethlehem Chapel crypt inside the cathedral, his tomb was moved to the nave in 1956; which was the centenary of Wilson’s birth. Woodrow Wilson was the first, and is still the only President buried in Washington D.C.
Once we arrived at Wilson’s tomb, I was immediately placed onto the handle of the crusader’s sword that was sculpted into top of the sarcophagus. That sword was symbolic of Wilson’s battle for peace following World War I.
Standing on the crusader’s sword was one thing, but posing on the smooth surface of the sarcophagus was another. The top was slightly rounded, and it seemed slippery; I was concerned that I would slide off the tomb and onto the marble floor below where I would meet certain death. But once again, I got lucky and managed to stay in one piece.
There was one more Presidential site that I wanted to visit inside the National Cathedral: the exact spot where Gerald Ford’s and Ronald Reagan’s caskets stood during their respective state funerals. As we neared the main altar, we found a large cross imbedded into the wooden floor that was located between two lecterns.
My photographer used a photo of the funeral and placed me on the exact spot where Ronald Reagan’s casket stood during his state funeral on June 11, 2004. As I stood there for a few moments, it was almost as though I could see Reagan’s flag-draped casket as President George W. Bush delivered the eulogy from the nearby lectern.
Of the 39 deceased Presidents, only four of them had funeral services that were held at the National Cathedral. The first was Dwight Eisenhower, then Reagan, and Gerald Ford. Four years after my visit to the cathedral, it was the site of George H.W. Bush’s state funeral. We weren’t exactly sure where Ike’s casket had been located, but we were sure of the position of Ford’s – it was in the center of that very same cross.
Our Presidential quest was fulfilled in the National Cathedral, but there were two other places that we wanted to see: The Space Window and the observation deck.
The Space Window was a stained-glass window that featured an actual piece of Moon rock imbedded into one of the colored panes. On July 21, 1974, Apollo 11 astronauts Neil Armstrong, Buzz Aldrin, and Michael Collins delivered a seven-gram lunar sample from the Sea of Tranquility to the cathedral.
For our final stop in the National Cathedral, we had to take an elevator ride to the observation deck which gave us a great view of the area – including our first look at the Washington Monument and Jefferson Memorial that were over four miles away.
Located one mile from the National Cathedral was the residence of Vice President Joe Biden. You are likely asking yourself right now: I didn’t think Jefferson visited Vice Presidential sites. I don’t focus on VP’s, but the mansion that was located at Number One Observatory Circle has been the official residence to the second-in-command since 1974 and it was where George H.W. Bush called home while he was VP under Reagan. To date, Bush has been the only Vice President to live in that house and then go on to be elected President. Could that house be bad luck for those who lived there and had aspired to be President?
Upon our arrival, we found ourselves on the outside of a fence looking in; as a matter of fact, I couldn’t see the VP’s house from that location. Nearby, however, we saw a black vehicle where two Secret Service agents were sitting. It was time for my photographer to work his magic. After he made his usual spiel, the agents were surprisingly receptive; although they did mention that under no circumstances would we be allowed onto the property. They did say, however, that we could get a good view of the house at the next gate. The ‘Men in Black’ also said they would contact the Secret Service at that entrance and let them know that we were headed their way and what we had requested.
I was carried to the next gate where two more Secret Service agents waited for us. I was a bit nervous as we approached them, but they turned out to be friendlier than the first pair that we had spoken with. As a matter of fact, my photographer mentioned our mission and also told them the story of my encounter with Garfield’s ghost. Just when we thought we might have a last-gasp attempt at getting an escorted visit onto the property, one of the agents said: “We can’t let you onto the grounds, but if you stand right here you can get a good view of the house.” Then the agent added, “Would you like me to hold the bobble head while his photo gets taken?” My photographer politely told the agent “no thank you”.
I was pleasantly surprised that the Secret Service agents seemed interested in my Presidential site adventures; and both agents said goodbye before we walked back to the Optima that was still parked near the first gate.
Ten minutes from Biden’s digs , we arrived at a three-story brick home that was located in the Embassy Row section of Washington. That house was where Woodrow Wilson and his wife Edith had moved to on his last day as President – March 4, 1921. It was also the house where Wilson had died. As I was carried up to the door, we saw a sign that posted the hours of operation – 10am to 4pm. It was exactly 4:15pm – we were fifteen minutes too late.
Mongo, which was the nickname that my photographer had called Bob since the movie Blazing Saddles last graced the silver screen, mentioned to Tom that he should knock on the door and whip some of his magic sales pitch on the people inside. With nothing to lose, he knocked and a young woman came to the door. Tom went right into his well-rehearsed monologue: “We travel all around the country visiting Presidential sites in an effort to get Jefferson photographed as close to the site as possible. This is our last day in Washington and we may never get the chance to come back; is there any chance that we can see the bed that President Wilson died in? It would mean the world to us.”
If my painted eyes could have rolled, it would have been right then. But his line worked and the next thing I knew we were inside the house and I was being carried up the grand staircase; even though the woman’s co-worker wasn’t too happy that she let us in.
The young tour guide led us directly to Woodrow Wilson’s second-floor study, a room that she thought would be a good place for me to be photographed since the President had spent a lot of his time there in retirement. The piece of furniture that interested me the most was the President’s desk; and much to my surprise, the tour guide suggested that I stand on it for my photo. I couldn’t believe my resin-filled ears – for once I wouldn’t have to be snuck onto an artifact when the tour guide wasn’t looking.
As amazing as it was to stand on Woodrow Wilson’s desk in his study, the final room of our abbreviated after-hours tour was the piece de resistance – his bedroom. When Wilson moved into the house after his Presidency, he was not healthy. He had suffered a severe stroke on October 2, 1919 during his second term and never fully recovered – he was partially blind and crippled.
The first thing I saw as I was carried into Wilson’s second-story bedroom was his bed. That was the bed that he died in and I wanted to stand on it; just like I had stood on the deathbed of Benjamin Harrison two weeks earlier. There was a roped barricade that was in position next to Wilson’s bed, however, which made my hopes of being placed onto the mattress a bit more of a longshot.
We weren’t alone in that room like we were at Lincoln’s tomb, but since my tour guide had no problem with me standing on the President’s desk, I had wondered what would she say about the bed? There was only one way to find out: “Is there any chance that I can set Jefferson on the bed for a quick photo?” asked my photographer. Without hesitation, she answered, “Oh, absolutely; I have no problem with a bobble head standing on that bed. Please be careful by the tray though.”
As soon as the woman moved the roped stanchion aside, I was carried over to the bed and carefully placed onto the mattress in between the pillows and tray. I did my best to not topple-over into the tray, which was used by Wilson for his meals while in bed. I stood there proudly for a moment; all the time thinking about Wilson’s final moments in that very bed. The night before his death, the President said to his doctor, “I am a broken piece of machinery. When the machinery is broken …” He fell silent for a moment, and then quietly said, “I am ready”. Those were his last words before he fell unconscious. At 11:15am on February 3, 1924, Woodrow Wilson died in that bed; his right hand was held by Edith and his left hand was in the hand of his daughter Margaret.
Our mission was complete and we couldn’t have been more grateful to our tour guide. After all, she had led the three of us on a private house tour, after closing time, and there aren’t many people who would have done that. As a matter of fact, not a lot of guides would’ve granted me access to the authentic pieces of furniture that I had stood on. I was convinced that my photographer could talk his way into putting me on anything and anywhere!
Back outside, we captured the images of the exterior of the house that we didn’t have time get before the tour. There were a couple of cars parked directly in front of the building, but I didn’t complain as they were likely owned by the tour guide and her co-worker. A pose that I thought was creative was the one where I stood close to the black mat that featured the house number ‘2340’ stenciled in white. That mat was important to me because Woodrow Wilson stood on that very spot on December 28, 1921; which was the President’s 65th birthday. Once again, I had stood in the footsteps of a President; although it was likely that the original mat had been replaced once or twice since 1921.
It was a few minutes past 5:00pm and our next site was located just five blocks from the Wilson house; in the Embassy section of Washington. It was the Embassy of Syria house, and it turned out that the building had been empty since March 18th – exactly four months before our arrival. The house was not abandoned because the Syrian ambassadors were on vacation. Oh no; it was vacant due to controversial actions in the country of Syria and U.S. special envoy for Syria, Daniel Rubinstein, ordered all operations suspended – and that included the embassy in Washington.
But I wasn’t standing in front of that embassy house because we were interested in Syria or its delegates. Instead, we were there because that three-story red brick house was the residence of former President William Howard Taft who had lived in the house for nine years while he was the Chief Justice of the Supreme Court. In an effort to adopt a fitness regiment, the rotund Taft walked to work at the Supreme Court every day. It was a distance of three miles to get to work; and then he walked home in the evening. Unfortunately, Taft’s health had declined both physically and mentally and he resigned from the bench on February 3, 1930. Five weeks later, at 5:15pm on March 8th, Taft died in his bedroom from heart disease and high blood pressure at the age of 72. Thirteen years later, former First Lady Helen Taft died in that home on May 22, 1943 – she was 82 years old.
The three of us tried to enter the property through the front gate, but the large iron fence was securely locked with no chance of entry. Our next option was for me to be placed on top of the iron fence as Tom captured my image. As I stood there with the house behind me, I wondered to myself which room was the one where “Fat Bill” had died. I also wondered what condition the Syrians had left the historic house; especially since they were likely pissed after getting kicked out of our country.
Next on our large itinerary was a visit to a house once rented by Ulysses S. Grant; a house that was located in Georgetown and was about a mile east of Taft’s place. As Mongo parked the Optima across the street from the three-story historic brick home, we could tell right away that we wouldn’t be going inside. Just like the Syrian Embassy house, the iron gate and fence that surrounded the home was locked.
The house that was in front of us was once rented by Major General Henry W. Halleck and near the end of the Civil War, Halleck allowed Grant to stay there as his guest. Although it was undocumented as fact, Grant once used the house as his Summer White House while he was President. Although this was not a significant Presidential site, at least in the grand scheme of things, I was still happy to have visited the house – albeit from the brick sidewalk near the street. Once again I was positioned on top of the iron fence while I posed with the historic house as my backdrop. As I stood on top of the fence, I didn’t think about Ulysses S. Grant whatsoever. Instead, my only thoughts centered on me not falling off the fence and onto the brick sidewalk below.
Following the quick ten-minute stop at the Scott-Grant House, I was back in my case that was situated in the back seat of the Kia and we were headed for the home once used by Richard Nixon while he served as Vice President under Eisenhower. Nixon’s elegant eight-bedroom Tudor-style home was located on a quiet cul-de-sac in the Wesley Heights section of Washington.
For once, we had easy access to the Presidential site as I was carried along the sidewalk and to a spot near the stone pathway that led to the front of the house. The home was privately owned and we knew that a tour of Nixon’s former place was out of the question; although my photographer did contemplate walking up the pathway with the intention of placing me on the porch for a photo. At the last minute Tom decided against that idea as he didn’t want to be arrested for trespassing on the first day of the trip. But in all honesty, I believe that Tom could’ve talked the owners out of calling the cops had they caught me posing on their porch.
Julie Eisenhower once said that her mother, Pat Nixon, loved that house more than any other home they ever lived in – possibly including the Big White One on Pennsylvania Avenue. Perhaps that was because no one had died in that house, while ten people had passed away within the walls of the White House; including the first to die: President William Henry Harrison.
It had been said that Harrison died in office because of Tecumseh’s Curse, also called the Curse of Tippecanoe, and stemmed from an 1809 dispute between U.S. President William Henry Harrison and Shawnee Indian leader Tecumseh. Some believe the curse is the reason that Harrison, and every following president up to Kennedy who was elected in a year ending in zero, died in office. President Ronald Reagan was elected in 1980 and lived to the end of his two terms, breaking the alleged curse. But did the spirit of Tecumseh call on John Hinckley, Jr. on the afternoon of March 30, 1981? I needed to walk in the footsteps of President Reagan to find out!
