238: ON THE ROAD TO NOWHERE WITH THEODORE ROOSEVELT

It was precisely six o’clock when Tom’s alarm rang on the morning of Tuesday June 6, 2023. The weather forecast for that morning was cloudy, overcast, and a cool 57 degrees. My two companions got themselves ready, the Explorer packed, and we were on the road by 7:10am. Our first site on the day’s agenda was in the heart of Albany – the New York State Capitol Building. The commute from the Tru by Hilton hotel near the airport into downtown Albany was only 14 miles; Tom had our vehicle parked alongside the capitol just twenty-five minutes after our departure.

I love seeing state capitols, but this one had a Presidential connection. Actually, it had three Presidential connections as Grover Cleveland, Theodore Roosevelt, and FDR all presided as New York’s governor within the walls of that enormous building. Martin Van Buren was also governor, but he served for only three months in 1829, long before the current building was constructed between 1867 and 1899.

When we arrived, the three of us were shocked the building had opened its doors to the public at 7:00am, which was very rare for any historic site. Instead of going inside right away, Tom and Bob captured their exterior images of the majestic building first. And when I say majestic, it reminded me of a royal castle. The impressive granite structure rose 220 feet above street level and is one of only eleven state capitol buildings that doesn’t feature a domed roof. I posed for several images on the capitol grounds, including some near the General Philip Henry Sheridan Memorial, before we headed inside to find where Cleveland and the Roosevelt’s had worked.

Prior to our interior tour, my companions and I had to pass through security – which seemed more stringent than at the airport. The security scanning turned into an ordeal when my photographer was forced to remove his belt. I thought for sure Tom’s pants would fall down as he slowly walked through the metal detector, but thankfully he managed to not expose himself, or embarrass me, during the process.

Following the directions from a security officer, the three of us proceeded to the second floor of the building where we had attempted to see the governor’s office. While Governor Kathy Hochul’s office seemed to be off-limits to the general public, as well as bobble heads, we were allowed to spend some time in an impressive area called The Hall of Governors – which was in close proximity to the office of the current governor. Portraits of every New York governor lined the massive hallway, and cases featuring artifacts from some of the governors were on display there as well. Perhaps the highlight for me, at least on the second floor, was when Tom carried me into a large area known today as the Red Room. While camera equipment had been set up in the room because it’s the place where the governor often records televised addresses or hosts special events, that particular room served as the Executive Office beginning with Governor Alonzo Cornell in 1881. The last governor to use the Red Room as their working office was Governor Grover Cleveland from 1883 until he left the governorship in 1885 due to his election as our 22nd President.

When we returned to the first floor and were just about ready to leave the building, my photographer accidentally stumbled upon another Presidential site. When he set me down onto a bronze plaque embedded into the marble floor, I couldn’t believe what my painted resin eyes saw. The inscription on the plaque read: ‘Here during the night of August 4th 1885 rested the body on its way to its last resting place’. In the center of the marker was the name ‘Ulysses S. Grant’. It turned out following Grant’s death on July 23, 1885, private services were held at the Mount McGregor cottage where the 18th President died. On August 4th, Grant’s body laid in state in the New York State Capitol Building from 6:45pm until 10am the following morning. More than 80,000 mourners filed through the Capitol to pay their respects before the President’s body was transported via train to West Point. Grant’s funeral was held in New York City on August 8, 1885 prior to his burial in a temporary tomb located at Riverside Park in the Morningside Heights neighborhood of Upper Manhattan.

Our visit to the State Capitol Building in Albany lasted roughly 45 minutes, and throughout that entire time, I was pleasantly surprised and pleased by everything we saw – inside and out. The only thing that could’ve made our visit any better would have been meeting Governor Hochul. I would have loved to have posed for a photo while she held me. But that likely would never happen as governors don’t usually mingle with bobble heads, even though I’m the most famous bobble head in the country.

The second site of the day was located only one-half mile south of the Capitol, and that was the official residence of the governor. Trust me, we weren’t stalking Governor Hochul. However, the mansion where she and her family resided was built in 1856 and it became the official residence of New York’s governor in 1877. That meant the New York State Executive Mansion was a Presidential site as Grover Cleveland and the two Roosevelts all lived there. During Theodore Roosevelt’s two-year term in office, he had a gymnasium built in the mansion. In 1932, FDR had a swimming pool installed, although it had been converted into a greenhouse after he vacated the mansion. When Mario Cuomo took office in 1983 for the first of his three terms, had the pool restored at the mansion.

Tom found a great parking spot along Eagle Street, directly across from the front gate. My companions quickly discovered, however, that capturing quality images of the mansion was difficult due to the dense line of small trees that had been planted along the fenced barricade. At one point, Tom asked a security guard for permission to get onto the property so he could get better photos, but the guard seemed mentally preoccupied and very cautious about something. A few minutes later, we found out the reason for his anxiety. A pair of black SUV’s left the grounds and quickly headed past us along Eagle Street. There was no doubt in my mind Governor Hochul was in one of those vehicles. Obviously, the governor didn’t recognize me, or she would’ve stopped for a photo-op.

Our inability to get a better look at the Executive Mansion in Albany was a disappointment, but not a huge surprise. Earlier, I overheard my photographer tell Bob the mansion was only open to tourists on Thursdays, and there were only three reserved time slots available between the hours of 12 and 2pm. Since we were there on a Tuesday morning, my only chance of getting onto the mansion’s historic porch was for my robust camera guy to scale the security fence, and I knew his fence-climbing days had been over for a while. And unless Mongo felt like going to jail, he wasn’t going to make the daredevil climb either.

When the three of us returned to the Explorer and were ready to head north, Tom placed a pre-arranged telephone call to Ben Kemp, the Operations Manager at the Ulysses S. Grant Cottage Historic Site, located just north of Wilton, New York. A week or two before our trip began, my photographer arranged a private 10:15am tour with Kemp to see the historic cottage and its grounds. However, when the pair talked about a potential tour, Ben said the cottage was in the final stages of a fire suppression installation project and he wasn’t sure if we could get inside or not. The manager did mention the work was in its final stages, however, and Ben believed he could get us inside so the three of us could possibly see a room or two. Kemp even went as far as stating the work might be wrapped-up by the time we made our trip, but he wanted my photographer to call him just as we headed out of Albany. When Tom’s call went unanswered, he left a voice mail and told Ben we were one hour from the cottage and on our way.

At 10:10am, my photographer pulled off Mt. McGregor Road and into a parking lot alongside a small guard shack. The gate which blocked the road at the entrance seemed to be locked, although a delivery truck arrived after us, and the driver opened and closed the gate behind him before he drove up towards the cottage. Another call to Ben Kemp went unanswered, which disappointed my photographer to no end, and also made me shake my head in complete disbelief. I thought Ben was looking forward to seeing me again, but it appeared that wasn’t the case. As for Bob, this was his first time to Grant’s Cottage, so he didn’t quite know what to expect; although he said it’s not that hard for someone to check their calendar. But when Ben didn’t answer his phone, it became increasingly apparent Mongo would have to wait a while longer to see the historic building where President Grant died.

Suddenly, Tom’s cell phone rang, and I saw the name ‘Ben Kemp’ appear on the screen. “Hi Tom, this is Ben. I was out mowing the lawn and didn’t hear my phone ring. I forgot all about your visit today. Just open the gate and come on up to the Visitor Center; I’ll meet you in the parking lot.” I couldn’t believe my resin ears. He forgot? In my mind, that meant our pre-arranged visit was way down on Ben’s list of priorities; or perhaps not on his list at all. My photographer and his wife donated $100 for a private tour in July 2020, and Ben held me in his hands for a posed photo on the cottage’s porch. How could I, the most famous bobble head in the world, not be a priority? Then it dawned on me – one of the final things I heard Tom say to Ben on the phone a week or two earlier was he couldn’t justify paying $100 just to walk the grounds. I didn’t blame my photographer whatsoever, but maybe that was the deal breaker for Kemp.

Once we met up with the site manager in the parking area across the street from the Visitor Center, the three of us sat around a couple of picnic tables and listened as Kemp talked about the ongoing fire suppression project. He said all of the furniture and artifacts in the cottage had been removed for the first time since 1885, which was necessary to install the system that’s unlike anything seen in any other historic building in the country. Just when I thought Ben would lead us out to the historic overlook, that’s when my photographer asked the “Grant guru” about the President’s intelligence, because Tom had read that Ulysses had the lowest IQ of any President in history – even a few points lower than George W. Bush. Fifteen minutes later, our passionate, yet forgetful, guide led us along a pathway to the famous overlook.

On July 18, 1885, President Grant had just finished writing his memoirs, although he was unable to speak due to his throat cancer. Two days later, the President passed a note to his doctor requesting to be taken to the scenic Eastern Outlook, which was situated several hundred yards east of the cottage. Grant’s son, Frederick; his valet, Harrison Tyrell; and Dr. John Douglas; helped the 63-year-old dying war hero into a bath wagon and they pulled him along a path to the overlook. Today, a stone marker memorializes the spot where Grant sat quietly in a rustic building, surrounded by his family. The President’s final wish had been granted. For on that mountaintop, the private thoughts of an American hero were left on the threshold of heaven.

As the four of us retraced our steps back to the parking lot, and the mustard-colored cottage with brown trim and green shutters came into view, that’s the moment the site manager revealed the bad news – “Unfortunately, I won’t be able to let you inside the cottage today. The preservationists are still moving the artifacts and furniture back in, so we can’t be inside.” That news was bad, but not totally unexpected – although I thought for sure Ben would work his magic and get us inside because he had given Tom that impression during a phone conversation a week or two earlier. Then a couple of moments later, as we walked closer to the historic building, I heard my photographer ask Ben if he could get the workers who were assembled on the porch to move for our pictures. The site manager seemed slightly put-off by the request and answered with a quick “No, I can’t ask them to do that.” Tom and Bob didn’t say anything more, but I was miffed. The three of us had traveled a very long way to visit the historic cottage and we didn’t need or want a congregation of unsightly people in our pictures. I began to wonder who was working for whom. No one, not Tom, Bob, or me, expected those workers to completely vacate the premises. But it wouldn’t have taken much for Kemp to politely ask them if they could take their break on a nearby picnic table, which was located in the shade and just a short distance from the cottage. In my resin mind, that was Ben’s revenge for my photographer asking about Grant’s low IQ.

Grant’s Cottage, as it’s known as today, was built in 1872 and owned by Joseph William Drexel, and New York banker and friend of Ulysses S. Grant. In the summer of 1884, the President was diagnosed with throat cancer, possibly caused by his frequent smoking of cigars. Soon after the diagnosis, Grant began to write his memoirs, which he did from his New York City home. When the summer heat and humidity in 1885 became unbearable, Drexel offered his friend the use of his Mt. McGregor cottage. On June 16th, Grant and his family moved into the cottage where the President continued writing. One month and two days later, on July 18th, Grant put down his pencil – the manuscript for his book was finished. Five days later, at 8:08am on July 23, 1885,, President Ulysses S. Grant died from a year-long battle with cancer – he was surrounded by his family.

For the next 15 minutes, Tom and Bob hung around the northern side of the cottage where Grant was photographed several times during his final days and weeks of life. I did my best to replicate those times by posing in the President’s footsteps, or butt prints. At one point, I stood on the precise spot where the General was photographed with his family on June 19, 1885. And of course, there’s the chair. Not THE same original chair Grant was seated in when he was photographed just three days before his death, because that chair was inside the cottage. Instead, I stood on a replacement chair, located in the same spot on the porch where Grant sat while he read a newspaper on July 20, 1885.

My two companions had finished taking their pictures and we were about to step off the porch when I heard my photographer ask Ben for one final favor, not that he had granted any favors yet that day. Tom said to the site manager: “Bob has never been here before and we looked through the window and noticed the room where Grant had died appeared to be fully furnished. Is there any way you could open the door for a few seconds and let Bob see Grant’s deathbed with his own eyes?” Once again Kemp seemed dismayed by Tom’s request, and he immediately shot it down when he replied: “Nope, there’s no way I’m allowed to do that. I can’t open that door.” By that time, I was completely furious, even though Tom and Bob remained composed quite well. I knew in my resin mind Ben Kemp was not Tony Danza, but who in the heck was the boss there?

Our Grant’s Cottage visit had come to an end and the four of us headed to the Visitor Center where Ben led us into the small museum where we saw some artifacts on display. While all of the important and historic pieces were inside the cottage, I wanted to pose alongside a bath wagon similar to the one used to transport Grant to the overlook before he died. Just before we headed back to our vehicle, however, I saw something that completely shocked me – Tom dropped a $20 bill into the donation jar. In my resin mind, it was twenty bucks for what? To be forgotten? Or to not be able to see the interior of the cottage at all, not even the room where Grant died? Or to be denied the chance to capture pictures of the cottage’s exterior without people in the way? Perhaps my photographer’s IQ was lower than Grant’s!

On July 13, 2020, when my photographer and his wife and I departed the mountaintop of Mt. McGregor, there was a distinct tingle in my body and a bobble in my head. The three of us had spent nearly two hours with Ben Kemp at the historic Grant’s Cottage and it was one of the true highlights of that trip. Oh, it cost Tom $100 for the private VIP tour, but it was worth every penny. My photographer and I were treated like the Presidential historians we are – and that was pretty cool in my book.

But as the three of us headed down that mountain road on this trip, that tingle I had experienced in 2020 was gone. Not only was our pre-planned visit unexceptional, but it also seemed as though Tom, Bob and I were a distraction, or maybe even an annoyance, to the site manager. Perhaps someday in the future we’ll make it back to Grant’s Cottage, mainly to give Mongo the opportunity to see the interior. I know if my photographer does bring me back, I’ll likely still have a sour taste in my resin mouth. Unless, of course, Tom buys me a bottle of one-hundred-dollar mouthwash.

For the next hour or so, my companions and I embarked on a journey north through upstate New York where our plan was to follow in the path of Theodore Roosevelt; footsteps TR had laid down in September 1901. Those three sites on the agenda were ones I had never visited before, primarily because they’re fairly obscure and a good distance off the beaten path to other major historical sites.

Around 1:30pm, after Bob had finished barking-out the directions to the first of the three Roosevelt sites, I found myself standing near the front of a train station. But when I looked up at the facade of the large, brown wooden structure with forest green trim, I saw ‘North Creek’ emblazoned across a wooden nameplate. That’s right, we were in North Creek, New York at the historic 1871 train station. What was so historic about an old train station in the middle of nowhere? I’ve always agreed with my two companions when they’ve said: “Just because something is old doesn’t make it historic”. In the case of the North Creek Station, however, it was a huge historic Presidential site – at least in my resin mind.

Vice President Theodore Roosevelt was vacationing with his family at Camp Tahawus in the Adirondacks when he received word during lunch on September 13, 1901 that President McKinley was dying from the gunshot wounds he suffered a week earlier. Roosevelt immediately left the shore of Lake Tear-of-the-Clouds and headed back to MacNaughton Cottage where he and his family were lodging. Around midnight, the bold and daring TR began the high-risk journey through the darkness to the nearest train station, which was roughly 35 miles away in North Creek. Every ten miles or so, Roosevelt changed buckboard wagons and drivers; until Mike Cronin finally delivered the Vice President to the North Creek Station at 4:45am. Immediately upon his arrival, Roosevelt was informed President McKinley had died at 2:15 that morning. That meant at some point during the midnight ride, along a dark and desolate roadway in the middle of nowhere, Theodore Roosevelt transformed from Vice President to President of the United States.

The North Creek Station turned out to be a very interesting stop for us and I thoroughly enjoyed being at the site where Theodore Roosevelt first learned he was President on September 14, 1901. But that’s not the spot where he officially became the Commander in Chief, because that happened along the route to the train station. But where in the world, or in New York, was that site? Well, I was about to find out!

I wanted to yell out “All Aboard” when Tom fired-up the engine of the Explorer and we headed out of North Creek. For the next 20 miles, I peered out from an opening in the camera case where I saw nothing but trees on both sides of New York State Route 28N. Even though that highway turned into a winding road after we passed Minerva, New York, my photographer maintained an over-the-law speed as we traversed northward. Then out of nowhere we passed the site – a giant boulder on the east side of Route 28N. Tom hit the brakes, made a U-turn, and we returned to what’s affectionately known as the Theodore Roosevelt Presidential Memorial. In other words, it was a huge rock with an attached bronze plaque, all situated beneath a large American flag and surrounded by some decent landscaping.

When Tom set me on top of the six-foot-high, six-foot-wide granite boulder, I was offered a good look at the inscription on the plaque – it read: ‘Near this point, while driving hastily from Tahawus Club to North Creek at 2:15am Sept. 14, 1901, Theodore Roosevelt became President of the United States as William McKinley expired in Buffalo.’ I also noticed the names of the three relay drivers who helped Roosevelt get to the train station were listed on the plaque as well. They were David Hunter, Orrin Kellogg, and finally Michael Cronin. What amazed me the most was the monument had been put in place in 1908, just seven years after the historic event took place.

While there’s no way of knowing for sure exactly where on the route Roosevelt was at precisely 2:15am, historians of the day likely recreated the scene in 1908 and determined he was on the current Route 28N in front of the monument. As I stood on the huge boulder, it was as though I could see Roosevelt riding in the wagon along the rough road as driver Orrin Kellogg kept his horses running at full speed through the darkness. Neither TR nor Kellogg could’ve possibly known the transition of power from McKinley to Roosevelt happened there at 2:15am, right there in front of me. Thankfully, for TR and our nation, Kellogg wasn’t a “cereal” killer!

With two Roosevelt sites in the Adirondacks finished, we had one final Roosevelt stop to make – and the MacNaughton Cottage would prove to be the biggest challenge of the three. That was because my companions didn’t have any GPS coordinates to direct us. All Tom had written on the agenda was: ‘Once we go past the Theodore Roosevelt Memorial on the right, we’ll turn right on Blue Ridge Rd. About a mile later, turn left on County Highway 25 and go for a while. Near the end, the MacNaughton Cottage is on the right.’ Those were some pretty basic, no-nonsense directions that even a caveman could follow – drive on Highway 25 until it ends.

The entire drive seemed to go smoothly, although it felt like we had been riding forever on the road to nowhere. All of a sudden, roughly eight or nine miles into the mind-numbing ride, we came around a small curve and saw an Essex County Sheriff’s patrol car parked near the fork in the road. My photographer, who was likely speeding because he didn’t see another vehicle the entire time, took the paved road to the right and over a small bridge that spanned the narrow 75-foot-wide Hudson River. But did he make the right choice or not? At that moment, I thought of Clint Eastwood as ‘Dirty Harry’ – “I know what you’re thinking, did I make the right choice or not? To tell you the truth, in all the confusion, I lost track myself. But being this is a road that might go for another 44 miles and could throw your schedule completely off, you got to ask yourself one question – ‘Do I feel lucky?’ Well, do ya, punk?”

Out of nowhere, Bob came up with another one of his brilliant ideas – he suggested we head back over the bridge and ask the cop if he or she knows where the MacNaughton Cottage was located. Once Tom pulled up alongside the patrol car, Mongo braved an endless swarm of black flies and asked the officer for precise directions to the cottage. The cop said we needed to take the narrow, gravel road all the way to the end instead of the paved road over the bridge. Talk about a stroke of good fortune! We were somewhat lost in the middle of nowhere, and there just happened to be a police officer parked right at our place of indecision.

The gravel road, known as Upper Works Road or Highway 25, was well-compacted, and it followed the western shore of the Hudson River. As Tom navigated the Explorer around each curve of the winding road, I hoped the MacNaughton Cottage would soon come into view, but I had to wait. And wait some more. I began to wonder whether or not the cop had been mistaken. Then suddenly, roughly ten miles past the spot where the sheriff had been positioned, we arrived at the parking lot for the Upper Works Trailhead. I thought to myself: “Don’t tell me we have to hike to this cottage!” The vision of last year’s Rapidan Camp hike came rushing into my resin head. My fears were for naught, however, as the cottage was situated just one hundred feet north of the parking area.

My photographer carried me to the front of the MacNaughton Cottage, which was the only surviving building from the 1830s ghost town at the McIntyre Iron Company’s Upper Works. In September 1901, Vice President Theodore Roosevelt and his family were staying at the cottage as guests of the Tahawus Club. In the early afternoon of September 13, 1901, Club Guide Harrison Hall delivered a message to Roosevelt as he ate lunch along the shore of Lake Tear-of-the-Clouds after he climbed nearby Mt. Marcy. The message stated President William McKinley was on the verge of death in Buffalo. Roosevelt returned to MacNaughton Cottage where he rested until around midnight. A short time later, the Vice President began his 35-mile ride to North Creek Station – the first leg of Roosevelt’s harrowing journey was with David Hunter, who likely navigated his wagon along the same road we had traversed.

When I stood in front of historic MacNaughton Cottage, I was disappointed to see a run-down, dilapidated building on the verge of ruin. I knew the cottage was completely off the grid and in the middle of nowhere, but it was the place where Theodore Roosevelt spent his last night as Vice President. A little over two hours after he walked out of the cottage’s front door and boarded Hunter’s wagon, Roosevelt became President of the United States. In my opinion, that historic cottage must be renovated and saved by our government, or some other caring entity.

Our visit to MacNaughton Cottage lasted roughly 20 minutes, and during that entire time, I watched as my companions swatted black flies away from their faces. The bugs didn’t bother me much, mainly because I’m made of resin and didn’t smell as bad as those two.

The three of us had followed Theodore Roosevelt along the road to nowhere. Even though it took a great deal of time and effort to visit the train station, the monument, and the cottage, it was well worth it. Each site played a huge part in American Presidential history and I’m grateful to have been afforded the opportunity to see all three. The MacNaughton Cottage marked the furthest point north on our trip. At 3:00pm, it was time for Tom, Bob, me, and a hundred black flies who boarded our Explorer, to head southeast toward historic Fort Ticonderoga.

About an hour after we left the Roosevelt sites in our rear-view mirror, we arrived at Fort Ticonderoga – or should I say, the guard shack at the entrance to the site. In the Presidential mindset I’ve been blessed with, the fort was only a semi-important site to me; even though it played a huge role during the Revolutionary War. While historic figures such as Ethan Allen and Benedict Arnold walked the grounds with the Green Mountain Boys during the war, it was General George Washington’s visit in July 1783 that sparked my interest. Tom’s original goal was to take me inside the fort, let me pose near a couple of scenic spots within the walls, and leave. After all, my photographer figured we’d have less than an hour to complete the entire visit because the historic site closed at 5pm. At the end of the day, however, none of that mattered. When the elderly woman at the entrance to the grounds said the price was $25 for each of my travel mates, that immediately became a deal breaker. As a last resort, my cheap camera guy asked the woman if we could view just the exterior of the fort for a reduced rate. She said no, it was twenty-five bucks or no entrance. My companions chose to leave; and quite frankly, I didn’t blame them.

Missing out on Fort Ticonderoga was not a huge deal for my companions or me, even though we went over 15 miles out of the way for nothing. But if I thought the historic fort was only a semi-important Presidential site, the next planned stop on the agenda was less than that. Twenty minutes after our dismal attempt at visiting Fort Ticonderoga had gone by the wayside, we headed north once again and crossed over the Lake Champlain Bridge and into Vermont. Upon our arrival to the Green Mountain State, which was Bob’s first-ever visit to Vermont, Tom steered our vehicle into a driveway that took us to a historic tavern at Chimney Point. In the early 1990s, the tavern was transformed into a museum. The museum was closed when we got there, but that didn’t matter much. My companions and I had made the short trip to the tavern because of two very famous Presidents, Thomas Jefferson and James Madison. We felt exterior images of the building would serve our needs just fine.

The grounds we stood on, located along the eastern shore of Lake Champlain, were transformed into a military fort by the French in 1731. Following the Revolutionary War, the tavern in front of us was built around 1785 and has been there since. The historical aspect that sparked our interest was the tavern had been visited by Jefferson and Madison on May 31, 1791. During President Washington’s first term in office, Secretary of State Thomas Jefferson and U.S. House of Representatives delegate James Madison travelled to the area and stayed in the historic tavern. The pair were also accompanied by two slaves, James Hemmings and Matthew. The two future Presidents were on a tour of upstate New York and eastern New England. During their stay, James Madison observed: “On Crown Point is one family only. On the opposite side, the country is well inhabited.”

When our visit to the Chimney Point tavern and its grounds wrapped up just before five o’clock, I knew the next stop on our adventure was going to be the hotel. With Mongo barking out the directions, my photographer navigated the winding, hilly back roads for 54 miles until we arrived at the Mountain Sports Inn, located in Killington, Vermont. While the route we traversed through Western Vermont would’ve been very scenic on a clear day, the haze caused by the out-of-control Canadian wildfires in Quebec had slightly obscured our view.

My companions were registered, had the Explorer unpacked, and we were in our lavish room by 6:30pm. After a short break, the three of us headed down the road where my companions had dinner at a place called Charity’s – which billed itself as an 1887 saloon. I watched in horror as Tom gorged himself on a dozen BBQ chicken wings, while Bob filled his face with a smash burger and fries. What I found interesting about that area was it’s a huge ski resort in the winter and a bicycling haven during the summer months. As a matter of fact, our server at Charity’s mentioned skiing had just finished the week before. Snow skiing in June? I thought to myself “So much for global warming”, especially when I saw the remnants of ice and dirty snow on one of the nearby slopes.

When we returned to our room, which reminded me of Swiss chalet, Tom set me alongside the television set where I spent the night. After the lights were extinguished at 10:15pm, I was left alone with my thoughts as I listened to my photographer snore. Throughout the night, I couldn’t help but think about our lousy experience at Grant’s Cottage that morning. Why was Ben Kemp’s demeanor so different from our visit in 2020? After several hours of racking my resin brain, the answer suddenly popped into my head – the key was what Bob Moldenhauer said after we left Mt. McGregor. Mongo mentioned that Kemp was arguably the leading Grant expert and historian in the country, yet whenever Ben talked about a Grant site he still needed to personally visit, my photographer countered by saying we had already been there. While that exchange between the two happened several times during our time at Grant’s Cottage, I knew in my heart Tom wasn’t playing a game of ‘one upmanship’. Instead, my photographer was proud of all the hard work and research he’s done over the past ten years to make me the most famous bobble head in the country.

Ben Kemp is an amazing Ulysses S. Grant historian; I believe he’s the best in the nation when it comes to the General who saved of our Union. At the same time, however, I’m proud to boast about being the finest Presidential historian bobble head in the country. When it comes paying tribute to all of the Presidents, I’m a lot like Reggie Jackson – “I’m the straw that stirs the drink.”

** A NOTE FROM MY PHOTOGRAPHER: THIS POST IS DEDICATED TO ABIGAIL ADAMS WATSON, MY BEST CANINE FRIEND IN THE WORLD AND MY BABY GIRL WHO LOVED HER BELLY RUBBED. SINCE I BEGAN THIS BLOG IN 2019, ABIGAIL HAS SAT BY MY FEET DURING EVERY POST I WROTE AND PUBLISHED. I’M WRITING THIS WITH A VERY HEAVY HEART AND WITH TEARS IN MY EYES – ABIGAIL PASSED AWAY AT THE AGE OF 12 AT 1:45am JULY 2, 2023. **