27: THOMAS AND GEORGIE AND ABE, OH MY!

I heard Bob tell my photographer that parking in Washington sucks, but Mongo had figured with a little luck that he could get us a spot along the road in East Potomac Park; which he did. From there, I was carried in my camera case along the edge of the Tidal Basin until we ended up in front of the first monument of the day – the Jefferson Memorial. For me, this was what I had waited for since our arrival in D.C. After all, my namesake was memorialized, and I wanted an up-close look at The Man!

When I was removed from my protective case and held in the air for a photo in front of the Jefferson Memorial, I could see the dark silhouette of the third President. The statue of Jefferson was framed by the white marble columns that adorned the front of the structure.

After I had posed for a few photos with the Jefferson Memorial in the background, it was time to ascend up the granite and marble steps to see the interior.  With each step we climbed, Jefferson’s statue seemed to grow in size and grandeur; and I was bursting at the seams with anticipation.

Once we made it inside the memorial and were under the dome, I found myself directly in front of the larger-than-life figure of our third president. The 19-foot tall, 10,000-pound bronze statue stood on a dark marble base that was inscribed with the words:  ‘Thomas Jefferson 1743-1826’.  As I looked up and saw the stoic expression on Jefferson’s face, I thought to myself:  “Dang, that’s one good lookin’ guy!”

It was a hot, Saturday afternoon and it was difficult to pose for photos in the memorial’s interior due to the multitude of tourists there, but with patience my cameraman managed to capture what we had needed.  Once we were finished with the pictures, I bid farewell to my namesake: The tall, dark, and handsome Thomas Jefferson.

Virtually from anywhere in Washington D.C., one can easily see the world’s tallest obelisk; which stands at exactly 554-feet, 7 11/32-inches tall.  As we got closer to the monument that was dedicated to our first President, the hollow structure that was made of white marble, granite, and bluestone gneiss seemed to reach higher and higher into the morning’s blue sky.

The last several hundred yards of our walk was uphill; which I didn’t mind because I was being carried.  When I was removed from my protective case, we were standing alongside numerous American flags that were positioned near the base of the Washington Monument; the world’s tallest obelisk. 

Construction on the Washington Monument began in 1848; but the worked stopped in 1854 due to lack of money and some control issues within the monument society itself.  The outbreak of the Civil War kept any work from starting back up as well; it wasn’t until 1879 before work continued on the marble obelisk. Due to the 25-year halt in construction, it’s easy to see a distinct line around the monument at the 156-foot mark.  The bottom third of the obelisk was slightly lighter in color, which was due to the marble being obtained from different quarries once construction had resumed.

At one point I had hoped that my photographer would take me up to the observation deck of the monument, but that thought was quickly squashed when I saw the never-ending line of tourists who had waited for their chance to take the elevator to the pinnacle.  It would’ve been cool to get a bird’s eye view of Washington from 500-feet in the air, but I didn’t want Tom to have another COBS flareup.

The next stop was one that I was very excited for, even though it wasn’t a monument to one of the Presidents – instead, it was their home. That’s right, we were headed for the “President’s Palace”; the “Presidential Mansion”; or the “President’s House” – today it’s known simply as the White House.

When we finally arrived at the south side of the White House, I was pulled from my case and held in between the bars of the thick, iron fence.  As I penetrated White House “air space”, I began to worry about the Secret Service.  Would the sharp shooters that were positioned on the President’s rooftop attempt to blow my head off for trespassing?  Or would the nearby ground agents haul me off to jail for “breaking the plane” of the fence? Then a thought popped into my mind: what if my photographer “accidentally” dropped me, I would be laying on the White House lawn; that would be cool. But if I did get onto the grass, would my cameraman be able to get me back?

As I was being held over the lawn, I thought about John Adams and what he had written to his wife Abigail the day after he had moved in to the partially completed house: “I pray Heaven to bestow the best of blessings on this House, and all that shall hereafter inhabit it. May none but honest and wise men ever rule under this roof.” I wasn’t one hundred percent sure that his prayer had been fulfilled, but as an enthusiast of all Presidents, I was willing to give them the benefit of the doubt.

There were over a thousand tourists all jammed into a small area where I was being held; each one of them were trying to capture images of the historic building.  As my photograph was being taken, I could see that some of the visitors were looking at me in wonderment; not quite sure why a bobble head was being held through the fence.  Some smiled and said something in a foreign language; I had imagined it was “oh, he sure is cute” in their own tongue.  Others said nothing and just shook their head; almost as if they were annoyed that I was taking up that prime location. Or perhaps they were just mocking me.

After Adams, there were 41 other men who had resided within the walls of that 132-room mansion.  Some had made great decisions that not only affected our country, they influenced the entire world as well.  And there were some whose decisions would leave historians scratching their heads for the rest of time.  But for me, I truly believed that each President tried to do their best for our nation; no matter which political party they pledged allegiance to.

The south side of the White House, which was the most picturesque and recognizable side, was actually the back of the residence. Wanting to see the front of the house, I was carried to Pennsylvania Avenue where another thousand or more tourists fought for their prime spot for a photo along the iron fence.

After we had found our “perfect” position, I could see numerous armed security guards in the area; which once again made me feel uncomfortable as I was held between the thick, iron bars of the fence and over the plush lawn of the White House.  Not once during the entire time that I was beyond the fence was I questioned about my actions.  I had to believe, however, that had I been set onto the grass, the Secret Service police would’ve been on me like flies on a rib roast. And for what?  After all, the White House belongs to the citizens of the United States and each citizen should have the right to visit their own house; or walk on the lawn; without fear of persecution.  That right should be afforded to bobble heads as well – even though I was born in China.

Pennsylvania Avenue in front of the White House was closed to vehicular traffic, and has been since the Oklahoma City bombing in 1995. The area became even more strict after the 9-11 attacks in 2001. In my efforts to stand in the footsteps of Presidents, I was placed onto the surface of Pennsylvania Avenue and stood where President Barack Obama walked with First Lady Michelle Obama during his Inaugural Parade on January 21, 2013.

From the “Church of the Presidents”, I was carried back across Lafayette Square to Blair House; which was not only the residence of a President for a while, it was also the site of an assassination attempt. Blair House was constructed in 1824 and is the oldest of the four structures that make up the President’s Guest House complex. With 119 rooms and over 70,000 square-feet of living space, Blair House is actually larger than the White House.

During President Harry Truman’s time in office, Blair House served as his primary residence while the White House was undergoing interior renovations.  On November 1, 1950, two Puerto Rican nationalists unsuccessfully tried to assassinate Truman while he napped in a second-story bedroom.

I had one final house to visit on that Saturday afternoon; it was a place known as the Octagon House. On September 8, 1814, President James Madison and his wife Dolley moved to Colonel John Tayloe’s house after the burning of the White House by the British.  The First Couple paid Tayloe $500 in rent for their six-month stay.

My photographer carried me up the ten steps to the front entrance; only to find that the historic home had already closed for the day.  I was extremely disappointed to find the Octagon House locked up; mainly because I was excited to connect with the alleged spirits in the home.  Legend has it that mysterious bells ring in the home at times when no one is ringing a bell.  Some have stated they saw Dolley Madison hosting a ghostly reception in the dining room; while others have sworn they witnessed the presence of John Tayloe’s two daughters – each of whom allegedly had died in the house by falling, or had been pushed, down the steep, spiral staircase. I had wanted to stand on that very staircase to see if the spirits would push me down the stairs, but that experience would have to wait for another trip to Washington.

As I stood on the cement step at the historic home’s front entrance, it popped into my hollow head as to why Colonel John Tayloe called his six-sided home ‘Octagon House’ rather than the ‘Hexagon House’.  Since the word ‘hex’ also refers to bewitching someone; a curse or evil spell; or something that causes a string of misfortune – perhaps the Colonel didn’t want evil spirits running amok in his home.  By the sounds of it, Tayloe’s scheme didn’t work.

It was 6:15pm and we had a long hike in front of us. We wanted to visit the Lincoln Memorial and I was happy that I got to rest comfortably in my camera case as Tom huffed and puffed his way over to the southern end of the Reflecting Pool. Once there, I was taken out of my case and held in his hand as we made our way up the 57 steps that led to the shine that paid homage to the Great Emancipator. When the large image of the seated Lincoln finally came into view, I had chills go up and down my resin-laced body.

Eighteen steps below Lincoln’s statue, however, we found an engraving that was etched into the marble that read: ‘I HAVE A DREAM  Martin Luther King, Jr. The March on Washington for Jobs and Freedom August 28, 1963’.  It was on that exact location where the iconic Civil Rights leader had delivered his historic speech to over 250,000 people.  King’s intention for having the Lincoln Memorial as the backdrop was to honor Lincoln 100 years after he issue the Emancipation Proclamation.  The language of the speech that was filled with patriotism and its aura of the Gettysburg Address helped symbolize the monument as one to national unity.

Once we made it inside the monument, I had a great view of the magnificent figure of a seated Abraham Lincoln that was directly in front of us.  The 19-foot tall statue was designed by Daniel Chester French and weighed over 159 tons.  Lincoln was seated as though in deep contemplation; but if he could stand, Lincoln would be 28-feet tall.  Above the figure of Lincoln I could see an engraved epitaph that read: “In this temple, as in the hearts of the people for whom he saved the Union, the memory of Abraham Lincoln is enshrined forever”.  The inscription was written by a guy named Royal Cortissoz. Thomas Jefferson couldn’t have penned it better himself.

There were hundreds of tourists inside the memorial, but it wasn’t hard for me to be photographed near the statue of Lincoln without others in the picture.  At one point, I thought to myself: “I have a dream. I want to stand on Lincoln’s lap for my photo”. But due to the shear height of the figure, and with security located nearby, I knew that idea was an impossible dream.

We had three sites left to see before reaching the vehicle; the first of those was located about 300 yards southeast of the Lincoln Memorial.  It was the Korean War Veterans Memorial, which was a haunting monument that depicted 19 ghost-like steel statues of soldiers on patrol in Korea. Although my photographer’s father served our country during the war in Korea, I was not photographed at the memorial.  Had Tom known where George H.W. Bush performed the ground breaking ceremony on Flag Day in 1993, I likely would have strayed from my case for a posed photo; but that did not happen.

It was roughly 7:15pm when we began our hike towards the Martin Luther King, Jr. Memorial; which was situated near the Tidal Basin almost half-way between the Lincoln Memorial and Jefferson Memorial.  Was it a twist of irony that the monument to the most famous and iconic Civil Rights leader in U.S. history was positioned directly between the memorial to a President who owned slaves and the one who freed them?

Without a direct Presidential tie, I was not taken out of my case as we walked around the gigantic memorial to Dr. King. I was, however, able to see the 30-foot tall white granite sculpture of the Civil Rights leader as my case was not completely zippered closed.  It appeared as though the relief impression of King, which was called the “Stone of Hope”, had successfully broken free from between the two-piece section of the memorial called the “Mountain of Despair”.

The cloud-covered setting sun was getting lower in the sky as we continued our journey to the Kia.  We walked the sidewalk along the Tidal Basin until we came upon the Franklin Delano Roosevelt Memorial; which was located some 300 to 400 yards from Dr. King’s memorial. At first glance, the FDR Memorial was a huge, confusing maze of stone and water; with some photos and statues sprinkled in.  There were four “rooms” to the memorial; each representing one of Roosevelt’s four terms as President.

Since it was very late in the day, we hurriedly walked through the rooms of the memorial as we searched for a statue of FDR as President.  In the third room, we found a large, bronze statue of Roosevelt – he was seated in a chair with a cloak covering most of his body and the chair.  A statue of his is faithful dog Fala was positioned nearby.

There were a handful of photos taken of me in that room; a couple were from a short distance from FDR’s likeness and one photo was captured after I was placed on his knee.  Roosevelt’s large, dark green fingers steadied me so I didn’t fall to my death.  As I stood there on FDR’s knee, with his humungous digit positioned behind my arm, only one thing crossed my mind: “I’m glad Franklin wasn’t a proctologist!”

I had been to a number of memorials to our Presidents; but I have to admit, the one that was dedicated to our 32^nd President was my least favorite.  It was spread out, but not tall; and the entire memorial seemed confusing to me.  There just seemed to be a lot of wasted space and the statue of FDR should have included a wheel chair.  Even though Roosevelt hid his disability from the public as he thought it portrayed him as weak and vulnerable, I believe just the opposite – it would have shown the world his courage and strength. It would’ve also proved that people can rise above adversity through hard work to become anything they set out to be, including the leader of the free world. The Franklin Delano Roosevelt Memorial fell short of inspirational for me.

After a long walk from the FDR Memorial, we finally made it back to the car. Luckily for us, the Optima remained unscathed and in the same place we had parked it; and with no parking ticket.  As we drove out of the park and over the Potomac River, I heard Mongo say that he could see the Air Force Memorial towering over the treetops.  He also stated that we should stop there before darkness fell on us. Although another stop was okay with me, I had wondered what the heck that memorial had to do with the Presidents. 

Within a few minutes, we were there – standing under the three stainless-steel arcs that reached into the air 201-feet to 270-feet high.  The three memorial spires were designed to represent soaring planes; as though they are contrails of Air Force Thunderbirds.  The absence of a fourth spire suggests the “missing man formation” that traditionally is used for funeral fly-overs.  From my perch inside the case, the memorial was cool; but it didn’t blow me away.

Within a mile or so of the United States Air Force Memorial, we pulled into the Best Western Pentagon Hotel at 8:15pm; only to drive past the “Cockroach Inn” to the Comfort Inn that was located on the far side of the parking lot.  We had a second floor room, which was what Bob had requested as a way to deter unwanted six-legged room guests.  I was placed alongside of the television set; where I watched for crawling critters the rest of the night.