Less than a month after my trip to Grand Rapids, I was back in my case and we were headed for Dearborn, Michigan. I had to admit, even though 26 days had passed, my resin-rump was still a tad chapped over the fact that I didn’t get into the hands of Jimmy Carter. But I had to let that go; I couldn’t let the Secret Service pee in my Cocoa Crisp.
Once again, Bob Moldenhauer was riding shotgun and he graciously used his annual passes to get into Greenfield Village and the Henry Ford Museum. It took a little over an hour to make the 60-mile jaunt to the living historical museum that Henry Ford opened to the public in 1933. We had arrived at the village’s gate precisely at 9:30am when the park opened; and the timing was perfect as there wasn’t many other tourists milling about – which was surprising for a Saturday. Our plan was to hit all of the Presidential sites first, and then visit some of the other interesting exhibits before we finished our day inside the museum.
At a brisk-paced walk, at least as brisk as my hefty photographer could trudge, I was carried down Greenfield Village’s Main Street which was lined with jack-o-lanterns and other Halloween décor. From the opening in the top of the case, I could see a lot of the old buildings as we passed them by. We had one target in mind: the Logan County Courthouse where a young lawyer named Abraham Lincoln once argued cases.
Originally built in 1840 in the town of Postville (later Lincoln), Illinois, the two-story gray wooden courthouse was used for only eight years. During those years, Abraham Lincoln would argue legal cases within its walls before it was closed down for good in 1848. In 1929, inventor Henry Ford bought the old building for $8,000 and had it dismantled and moved to Dearborn. When local historians in Illinois told Ford that the building would lose its historic significance because it no longer sat on Lincoln, Illinois soil; the inventor had all of the ground that the structure originally sat on dug up and relocated to Greenfield Village.
For me, it was exciting to see the original courthouse that was in great shape for being 174 years old. The red, white, and blue bunting that hung below the second-story windows were a good contrast to the dull gray exterior. After I had posed for several photos near the building’s exterior, we ventured inside to see what might be authentic. As I was carried through the doorway, I thought to myself: “Abraham Lincoln once walked through that very entrance.”
The furnishings inside the Postville Courthouse were pieces used typically in courthouses in the 1840s. There was one piece, however, that was authentically linked to Abraham Lincoln. Sitting in the corner was a large wooden cabinet that was constructed by Thomas Lincoln; with the help of his son Abraham.
During my time inside the historic courthouse, I thought of Abraham Lincoln and his twice-a-year visits to the building while on the circuit. The young lawyer had once walked through the doorway; he walked on those very floor boards, and he gazed at those same walls as he was gaining fame as an efficient lawyer.
Lincoln also enjoyed himself outside of the courthouse as well. One well-corroborated tale says that the field across from the courthouse, then a vacant lot in Postville, was used by Lincoln and other young lawyers as a place to play ‘town ball’, a 19th-century variety of baseball, while the counselors were waiting for their cases to come up on the docket. I never pictured in my wildest imagination Abraham Lincoln playing baseball; but then again, he was likely good at everything he had set his mind to.
At about 10:15am we were finished at the Logan County Courthouse; which we thought was the only Presidential site in the village. But we quickly learned that we were mistaken. Located one block away from the courthouse was Edison’s Menlo Park Laboratory; and although Thomas Edison was an inventor and not a politician, what would we find interesting in that building that would relate to a President?
It turned out that on October 21, 1929, and event called ‘Light’s Golden Jubilee’ was held in the Menlo Park Laboratory on the grounds of Greenfield Village. The celebration was to commemorate the 50th anniversary of Thomas Edison’s incandescent lightbulb. As the inventor replicated the moment the first light bulb came to life, Henry Ford was by his side inside the historic structure. Standing next to Ford and Edison was the 31st President of the United States – Herbert Hoover. Unfortunately for Hoover, “Black Tuesday” occurred just eight days after the jubilee and the country began it’s descent into the Great Depression.
Using an old photo as a guide, I was placed on the exact spot where President Hoover had stood in 1929. My photographer was not allowed past the security barricades, but a woman who served as a docent in the building carefully sat me into position for a photograph. As my cameraman handed me over to the woman, I heard him say: “Please be careful and don’t drop him.”
As I stood on the shiny wooden floor of the laboratory, I looked up at the chair that was permanently affixed to the floor in the exact place it was when Edison sat there. My mind was flooded with emotion because I knew that we were just three days from the 85th anniversary of when Thomas Edison sat in that wooden chair. And not only did Edison sit in that very chair, President Hoover stood right where I was standing; and Henry Ford was standing next to Hoover. Those are some big names in American history and I was proud to be standing in their footprints. I was also thankful the woman didn’t drop me as well.
As I was being carried out of Edison’s laboratory, I thought about Herbert Hoover. It was sad because on the day Hoover was in that room, he had no way of knowing that the Great Depression would begin eight days later. Just thinking of that made me greatly depressed.
The final two stops inside Greenfield Village were not Presidential, but they sure were historic. Bob and Tom took me inside the Wright Brothers’ home that was originally located in Dayton, Ohio. I thought going inside Orville and Wilbur’s home was perfect because earlier in the year I saw their first airplane called “The Flyer” at the National Air and Space Museum in Washington. In September, I visited the gravesites of the two Wright brothers in Dayton, Ohio. Now it was time to visit the home where Orville was born; where Wilbur had died; and where both men dreamt of flying.
at the age of 45 on May 30, 1912.
When we were finished with our short tour of the Wright Brothers’ home, we walked next door the their bicycle shop. The Wright Cycle Company was opened in 1897 and was where Wilbur and Orville created the building blocks of flight. Yes, they built and sold bicycles there in the summer to make money; but in the winter, they worked on their flying machines. Most, if not all, of their airplanes from 1903, ’04, and ’05 were built in the bicycle shop. By 1910, the Wright’s moved out of the shop completely.
We spent about 20 minutes inside the Wright Cycle Company before we headed for the Henry Ford Museum. As I was carried out of the village and towards the museum, which was an identical twin of Philadelphia’s Independence Hall, I was shaking with excitement. I knew that two of the most historic and significant Presidential artifacts were inside that building and I couldn’t wait to pose next to both of them. One was the chair that Abraham Lincoln was sitting in when he was shot at Ford’s Theater and the other was the limo that John Kennedy was riding in when he was shot in Dallas. I wasn’t sure how close I could get to either artifact; but I would do my best to stand on both of them.
I was carried through The Henry Ford’s front doors and the first thing we saw was a spade that was permanently imbedded into a cement block. The concrete slab was inscribed with the signature of Thomas Edison. The famed inventor, who was a good friend of Henry Ford, wrote his name into the wet concrete block on September 27, 1928 at the dedication ceremony of Henry Ford Museum. Once inside the main corridor of the museum, we turned right and headed for the Presidential vehicle exhibit. Those cars were what I had come to see; especially one vehicle in particular – the limo that JFK was assassinated in.
We immediately headed for the crème de la crème first because there weren’t many tourists around the Kennedy car; which was surprising. The first thing that I noticed was Kennedy’s limo, which was known officially as the SS-100-X, looked a lot different than it did in 1963. It was painted black instead of the dark navy blue; but the biggest change was the hard top that was permanently attached to the car. When JFK was assassinated, the 1961 Lincoln Continental was a convertible that had a variety of extra tops when needed; including a snap-together clear bubble top. None of the temporary tops for the car were bulletproof and were not covering the President when he rode through the streets of Dallas. Following the assassination, the blood-spattered vehicle was flown back to Washington where it was delivered to the White House garage. The following month, the SS-100-X was taken to Hess & Eisenhardt of Cincinnati where it was rebuilt from the ground up. After the limo was outfitted with numerous protective additions, it went back into service – although President Johnson did not like to ride in it. The car was officially retired in 1978 and was taken directly to the Henry Ford Museum.
I posed for a handful of photos alongside the car; each of which corresponded with a photo taken during the actual 1963 motorcade in Dallas. A flood of emotions raced through my mind as I stood near the most famous vehicle in American history. As I gazed through the window and onto the two-toned blue back seat, I could envision JFK sitting there as he waved to the enthusiastic crowd in Dallas.
It was hard for me to leave the Kennedy car, but a group of tourists had just arrived at the vehicle and I could tell Tom’s patience had vanished. Before my photographer’s COBS had a chance to flare up, he carried me to the vehicle that was parked in front of the JFK car – which was the Presidential limousine used by Ronald Reagan on that infamous day in 1981.
The black 1972 Lincoln Continental was first used by Richard Nixon that year; but gained fame in 1975 when it protected Gerald Ford in San Francisco after an assassination attempt by Sarah Jane Moore went awry. After two shots were fired by Moore outside of the St. Francis Hotel, Ford was pushed into the Presidential limousine by Secret Service agents and whisked away to the airport.
On March 30, 1981; the Lincoln once again was used as a safe haven for a President. On that day, Ronald Reagan had just delivered a speech at the Washington Hilton Hotel and was walking to his car when six shots rang out from a .22 caliber handgun used by John Hinkley, Jr. Although the first bullet struck White House Press Secretary James Brady in the head; and a Secret Service agent and a police officer were hit by Hinkley’s shots; Reagan escaped direct fire. However, as he was being pushed into this Presidential limousine, a bullet ricocheted off the armor plated door and struck Reagan in the left underarm and lodged in his lung.
Jimmy Carter had rode in the ’72 Lincoln before Reagan was President and the car was still in use when George H.W. Bush was in office. The vehicle was retired in 1987 and found its way to the Henry Ford Museum where it was put on permanent display. I looked for the bullet mark on the rear door, but I was unable to see it.
The next car that I was photographed near was the 1950 Presidential limousine used by Dwight Eisenhower. Although the massive car was built for President Truman in 1950, it was most associated with Ike; he used the car from 1954 until 1960. Eisenhower had the distinctive “bubble top” added to the vehicle to give the motorcade crowds a better view of him. Another feature that Ike had added to the car was the “bug shield” that raised up in front of the rear seat. The shield would protect the President from insects when he stood while the vehicle was in motion
The next vehicle that I wanted to pose alongside was the 1939 Lincoln Presidential limousine used by Franklin D. Roosevelt. That vehicle became famous as the first car ever built exclusively for Presidential use. The car was slapped with the nickname “The Sunshine Special” because Roosevelt liked riding in it with the top down. After the attack on Pearl Harbor in 1941, however, the car was returned to the factory and outfitted with armor plating and bullet-resistant tires and gas tank.
It had been written that “The Sunshine Special” was the first Presidential vehicle to acquire its own personality. As I stood alongside that historic vehicle and peered into the backseat, I could envision FDR sitting there with the top down; his cigarette holder dangling out of his mouth as he waved to anxious onlookers.
The fifth and final automobile in the Presidential vehicle lineup was a 1902 horse drawn carriage known as a Brougham that was used by Theodore Roosevelt for parades and official occasions. Roosevelt was not fond of the cars of his day and he rarely used them – he preferred the old horse drawn carriages instead. On September 3, 1902 during a trip to Pittsfield, Massachusetts, President Roosevelt’s carriage was struck by a speeding trolley car and the President was thrown to the street. Although Roosevelt was slightly injured and the carriage was severely damaged, Secret Service agent William Craig was killed in the collision. Craig was the first agent killed in the line of duty of protecting the President.
After seeing all of the Presidential vehicles that were on permanent display at the museum, I was carried to another section that really peaked my interest. That area was called ‘With Liberty and Justice For All’ and it sounded like the perfect place for a Presidential bobble head to hang out.
Our first stop was alongside a display case that featured a handful of artifacts that once belonged to George Washington during the Revolutionary War. Through the glass I could easily see a camp bed and chest that was used by “The General”, along with a few eating and cooking utensils. As I looked at the small cot through the glass, I envisioned Washington trying to get some rest on it – even though the bed didn’t appear to have a Tempur-pedic mattress. During the eight years that Washington led the fight for freedom, he usually stayed in the homes of well-to-do citizens of the particular town that he was in. As far as the artifacts that were right in front of me, the General used those when he was out in the field with his troops. My photographer did his best to hold me up next to the glass in an effort to get me as close as possible to those Washington artifacts.
A short distance from the George Washington camp display, but still located in the ‘With Liberty and Justice For All’ area, was the artifact that was second-to-none in the museum. As I was carried up to a display case that offered access to both sides of the artifact, I was face to face with a rocking chair that was covered in well-worn red silk fabric. That parlor rocker was the chair where Abraham Lincoln sat when he was shot in the head by John Wilkes Booth at Ford’s Theater on April 14, 1865. The theater’s co-owner, Harry Ford, had the chair carried from his apartment to the State Box at Ford’s especially for the President. As a matter of fact, Lincoln sat in that very chair in the winter of 1863 as well.
Following the assassination, the chair was confiscated by the War Department and held as evidence against the conspirators. After the trials, the chair was put in storage in the Smithsonian Institution until Harry Ford’s widow petitioned to have it returned to the family; after all, it was their personal property. When Mrs. Ford got the chair back, she had it auctioned off. An agent for Henry Ford, Israel Sack, purchased it for $2,400 in 1929 and the chair was sent to Greenfield Village. Once Henry Ford received the historic chair, he put it on display in his newly acquired Postville (Logan County) Courthouse where he wanted to start an elaborate Lincoln museum. For the next 51 years, the Lincoln chair was on display at the courthouse until it was restored, preserved, and relocated into its permanent home in Henry Ford Museum.
As I was held up to the glass, only a foot or so from the historic red rocking chair, I could envision Abraham Lincoln sitting there comfortably as he watched the play ‘Our American Cousin’ at Ford’s Theater. The greatest President in American history had no way of knowing that when he arrived at the State Box and sat down in that chair he had very little time left on Earth.
Although they had arrived late to the play, the Lincoln’s were inseparable during the performance. As a matter of fact, Mary Lincoln was concerned about what their guests (Major Henry Rathbone and his fiancée Clara Harris) might think of her holding her husband’s hand. “What will Miss Harris think of my hanging on to you so?” Lincoln replied, “She won’t think anything about it.” Those were likely Abraham Lincoln’s last words. During the third act of the play, at the precise moment when Lincoln was laughing after actor Harry Hawke delivered the line: “Well, I guess I know enough to turn you inside out, old gal; you sockdologizing old man-trip”; the President was shot behind his left ear. Although Lincoln lived another nine hours after he was shot, he never regained consciousness. He died at 7:22am on April 15, 1865 across the street from the theater in a boarding house bedroom owned by tailor William Petersen.
The rocking chair looked fragile behind the protective glass as the seat cushion and arm rests were badly worn and threadbare. The ornate carved walnut wood appeared to be in great shape. Near the top of the rocker’s back I noticed a dark stain; at first I thought it was a blood stain. That would make sense since the President was shot in the head. Historians had the fabric tested, however, and it turned out to be old grease and oils from the hair of people who sat in the chair after it left the theater. I would’ve given anything to have been able to stand on the seat of the chair; even if for only a few precious seconds. After all, it was the place where Abraham Lincoln fell into eternal darkness.
My photographer had a difficult time leaving the display case that contained Lincoln’s chair, but he finally placed me back into the camera case and I was sadly carried away. As we meandered throughout the museum, we visited a few more historical artifacts of interest. We saw the bus that Rosa Parks was on when she refused to give up her seat in 1955; well, I saw it from the opening in my protective camera case. I also got a glimpse of a test tube that allegedly contained the last breath of Thomas Edison.
Overall, it was an exhilarating day in Dearborn and I got an up close and personal look at the historical artifacts where two of the four assassinated Presidents had been seated when they were shot to death. I was thankful that both of those relics had not only been preserved; they were also within 60 miles from the place I call home.
Six short days after I had returned to that home from Dearborn, I was on the road once again for my final journey of 2014. Throughout most of the month of October 2014, my photographer had discovered, researched, and found the connections that were associated with a Presidential house that was situated on the site of the old Michigan State Fair Grounds.
After a few weeks of emails and strategic telephone calls made by my photographer that sought authorization from the state of Michigan to visit the site, we were finally granted permission to gain access to the permanently closed State Fair Grounds on Woodward Avenue where a dilapidated house stood in silent solitude. Before the permission had been granted, Tom had schemed-up an attempted “break in” of the grounds. But after seeing the area where the historic home was located on Google Maps, it was determined that the fence that surrounded the grounds was impregnable by my overweight cameraman.
It was late afternoon on Friday October 24, 2014 when once again Bob Moldenhauer joined my photographer and I on a Presidential trip. I was back in my usual spot in the camera bag, but this time we were traveling in an electric blue colored Dodge Ram truck. I was riding in style! We had a 4:30pm appointment to meet the head of security at the main gate of the State Fair Grounds, which was located off Woodward Avenue. But since we made the 51-mile journey quicker than we had anticipated, mainly because we had preferred to be early rather than late, we had roughly 45 minutes to visit Woodlawn Cemetery and the burial place of Rosa Parks. We weren’t going very far off the beaten path as the cemetery was located across Woodward from the old State Fair Grounds.
As we drove through the entrance gates of Woodlawn, we could easily see that the cemetery was huge. Without knowing exactly where Rosa Parks was entombed, and with our clock ticking, we needed help. Once my photographer secured a map, we drove to the Rosa Parks Memorial Mausoleum, which was only a short distance from the office building. Bob had the security lock’s combination memorized and before I knew it, Mongo had the three of us inside the chapel.
My second year of visiting historical sites was nearing an end and I had been blessed to have stood in the footsteps of true Presidential greatness. But on that sunny October afternoon, I was once again in the presence of greatness on the anniversary of her death. My only regret, when I thought of Rosa Parks’ legacy, was never having the honor of meeting her or held by her for a photograph. I bet she would’ve held me with pride, too; Rosa Parks was that kind of woman.
With 25 minutes before our scheduled meeting at the State Fair Grounds, we headed for the gravesite of William Clay Ford, Sr. Ford’s resting place was interesting to us for several reasons: He had died earlier in the year and his death had made the local news because he owned the Detroit Lions. He was also the last surviving grandchild of Henry Ford; as well as the youngest child of Edsel Ford.
As it was getting close to 4:30pm, we made our way out of the cemetery and over to the front gate of the State Fair Grounds. We were met by a security guard who immediately radioed Dan; the person who was scheduled to take us to the site. Within a few minutes, we were led onto the grounds and to our final destination – the former home of Ulysses S. Grant.
Right away we could tell the two-story house was in total disrepair and it appeared that it had been neglected for quite some time. The white picket fence that surrounded the house had fallen down in some spots; and in other areas the fence was broken or was completely missing. All of the home’s windows were boarded shut and the white paint on the wooden exterior was terribly weathered. The house was old; it was built around 1847 and was originally located on West Fort Street near Historic Fort Wayne in Detroit. In April 1849, Army lieutenant Ulysses Grant moved into the rented house and lived there with his wife Julia until May 1850.
I posed for a handful of photos outside of the house and I was angered by the fact that a Presidential home was allowed to fall into such disrepair. Not only was that building one of the oldest houses in Detroit, it was once occupied by Ulysses S. Grant and money should have been made available by our state to make restorations so that future generations could visit the home. But today, that house was kept under lock and key where it took a virtual act of God and a lot of good fortune to visit.
When Grant first moved into the house in 1849, he wrote a letter to his wife that described his new digs. He mentioned the interior had a double parlor, a dining room, one small downstairs bedroom, and a kitchen. The future President also described the yard that was filled with gardens and fruit trees; including currants, plums, peaches and grapes. When Grant wrote the letter, Julia was about a week from moving into the Detroit house.
As bad as the exterior looked, the interior seemed worse; and that fact was obvious from the moment I was carried through the front door. Every room that we walked through was littered with debris and it appeared to have been ransacked in the past. In the kitchen that Grant once wrote about, there were discarded banners, advertising signs, political signs, and trash strewn everywhere. As I stood there among the carnage, I envisioned “carnies” smoking and drinking as they cooked their late-night meals. At one time that room likely reeked from the smell of cabbage. With all of the mess, it never crossed my mind that the Grant’s ate their meals in that room for over a year,
I posed for a few photos in certain areas of the house; each time I did my best to not have the rubbish in the photos – but that was hard at times because there was crap everywhere. In the double parlor, I found an antique couch and chair that looked cool; as a matter of fact, I stood on the chair and posed for a photo. I was also placed on the fireplace mantel in the parlor; and as I stood there looking out into the room that was filled with trash, I could envision Ulysses and Julia Grant sitting in front of the fireplace on a cold Michigan night.
It had taken a lot of work and communication with the state to get me into that house and I was honored for the chance to visit that historic building; even though it was disappointing to see it in such poor condition. It was our hopes that someday soon someone will put some cash into restoring the house to the way it looked when Grant lived there during the mid-1800s. When it is finally refurbished and opened to the public, I hope I will be taken back to see the famous dwelling in a different light.
That was the final trip in 2014 and it ended on a somewhat disappointing note. I knew it would be a long Michigan winter standing in my usual perch on the living room cabinet, but I would be ready whenever the call to duty would arise. When it comes to Presidential trips, I never crack under the pressure.
