My photographer’s phone alarm went off precisely at 5:00am on Sunday July 9, 2017. The first thing Tom did was look out of the room’s window to check the weather – luckily for us there wasn’t a single cloud in the pure blue sky. Since the forecast was for low humidity and no chance of rain, it appeared that we had the perfect day to spend at the flea market. As Tom checked the weather, got dressed, and worked at getting his wife out of bed (which wasn’t hard because she was excited to visit the flea market); I kept my fingers crossed that my one dream would come true – Lara Spencer holds me in her hand at the Elephant’s Trunk Flea Market. While it’s still a huge goal to have a President hold me; I have a better chance to hook up with Lara – plus she’s a hell of a lot better looking than ‘The Donald’.
The early morning went exactly as planned: we easily made the nine-mile drive to the Elephant’s Trunk Flea Market in New Milford, Connecticut and we were in line to get onto the grounds exactly at 7:00am. As we entered the massive flea market, I was comfortably situated in the camera bag that was slung around my photographer’s shoulder. Since Tom’s antique and collectible interests are far different than Vicki’s, the pair split up and kept in contact via cell phone. My cameraman left the top of the case open so I could keep an eye out for Lara Spencer. After all, some segments of HGTV’s Flea Market Flip are recorded at the Elephant’s Trunk, which meant meeting Lara was a definite possibility.
Row by row we walked and searched for treasures – my photographer found several vinyl record albums that he had negotiated a deal on and planned to add to his collection. He also asked several dealers about Lara Spencer and whether they had ever saw her there. Every dealer my cameraman spoke with said the same thing – Lara has been there a lot of times and she was very nice; and each said they wouldn’t be surprised if she showed up that day. The dealers also mentioned that we should keep an eye on the big flagpole in the center of the property; each said that’s the meeting point when footage is shot for Flea Market Flip. Several times during the morning we crossed paths with Vicki; the last of which was when we sat down to eat lunch.
After my photographer carried me through the last several aisles of goodies, we made one final stop at the large flagpole – just in case Lara Spencer had showed up. Unfortunately for me she hadn’t. There was no Lara; no camera crew; nothing at all related to Flea Market Flip. Tom had found his Queen at a vinyl album table; but since my Queen was a no-show, my focus quickly shifted to a King – King Franklin that is.
It was 11:30am when we left New Milford for the 57-mile drive to Hyde Park, New York. The weather was still ideal an hour later when we arrived at the Home and Presidential Library of 32nd President Franklin D. Roosevelt. I had been anxious for this stop since we left Michigan as FDR was one of the most important Presidents in history. I knew our visit would also get me the most Presidential bang for my buck as Roosevelt’s birthplace, his adult home, his grave site; and his Presidential Museum were all on the property. It was a true Presidential smorgasbord and I was prepared to gorge myself. I had only hoped that my photographer’s wife didn’t regurgitate on the large portions. Vicki has always been a good sport, at least for the most part, during our Presidential site visits. But with this much stuff to digest all in a single setting, it could be the one time she loses her cookies, as well as her temper.
After my photographer paid for our entry fee at the visitor center, I was carried to ‘Springwood’; the lifelong home of Franklin Roosevelt. While some of our Presidents had been born in log cabins, not FDR – it was obvious that he was born into a family that had some serious dough. The NPS Ranger led us inside the immaculate home for our tour – and let me tell you, the tour did not disappoint whatsoever. So many times in the past we had visited Presidential homes, and they were filled with period pieces. Not Springwood. Everything in the 15-room house was used by FDR at one time or another and I did my best to pose in most of the rooms. Some rooms were more difficult to photograph than others because of lighting, but my cameraman did his best to capture the ambiance of Springwood.
As I was carried throughout FDR’s Springwood, it seemed as though I gained a better understanding of our 32nd President. As strong of leader as Roosevelt was for our country, he was a very insecure man to those who were close to him. He was a mama’s boy in every sense; and that immediately strained his relationship with Eleanor. So much so, in fact, that FDR’s dog Fala was closer to him than his wife. FDR was also insecure about his affliction with polio and his need to wear leg braces or sit in a wheelchair. As a matter of fact, he did his best to hide his disability from the world during his entire Presidency. In the 1930’s and early 40’s, would the world have labeled him weak because he suffered from polio and had to maneuver in a wheel chair or use metal braces to stand up? Times were different then. Today, I believe the world would have viewed him as a fighter whose ingenuity, strength, and leadership not only led our country out of the Great Depression, but he also helped keep the free world together during the dawn of the atomic age.
At the conclusion of our tour, we walked out of Springwood and onto the back patio where we had the identical view of the Hudson River Valley and mountains that FDR had fallen in love with. I was carried around to the front of the house where I posed for a handful of photos alongside the historic estate. Not only did I see the ivy as it made its way up the fieldstone, I also saw the 48-star United States flag and the four-star (one for each of his four terms) Presidential flag as they flew near the front entrance.
Finished at Springwood, the three of us made our way to Sara Roosevelt’s Rose Garden, which was located about halfway between the house and FDR’s Presidential Library. Near the center of the Rose Garden we saw the final resting place of Franklin and Eleanor Roosevelt. Franklin D. Roosevelt was buried at his estate after his death in Warm Springs, Georgia at the age of 63 on April 12, 1945. His wife, Eleanor, died at the age of 78 at her NYC home on November 7, 1962 and was buried alongside her husband. The centerpiece of the Rose Garden was a simple rectangular block of white marble that marked the grave of the President and First Lady. Its simplicity was exactly what Roosevelt had designed in 1937 when he wrote that his tombstone would be “a plain white monument, no carving or decoration, to be placed over my grave.” From our position near the large flower bed at the entrance to the Rose Garden, we had a good view of Roosevelt’s grave. My photographer held me up and captured an image of me with the tombstone in the background. The problem was the tombstone was roughly 50-feet away and Tom really wanted me to be closer. A lot closer.
Seconds after my photographer took the first few pictures of me, I heard him say to Vicki: “I need to get closer to that tombstone.” Her response was: “No you don’t. You are close enough here and can see it just fine; you aren’t allowed to go out there anyway.” When Tom told her once again that he was going to place me onto the marble tombstone, Vicki stormed out of the Rose Garden – leaving my photographer and me all alone. With me in his hand; his good camera around his neck; and the small camera hanging from the strap that was clenched by Tom’s teeth; we headed along the pathway to where the barricade chain ended at the side of the grave marker.
As we were about to make our way onto the sacred area, two tourists came out of nowhere and walked towards us – one was a woman who appeared to be in her 50s and the other was a guy who looked to be in his early 30s; likely a mother and son (or a cougar and her prey). My photographer hesitated at first; he contemplated whether or not to chance getting reported to the authorities by that couple. After a ten-second delay, I heard him say “Screw it, I’m going in” and we began our fast-paced walk across the grass to the three-foot high white block of marble. About halfway to the monument, I heard a woman’s voice say out loud: “Isn’t he cute? Is that George Washington?” With the camera strap still clenched in his teeth, Tom mumbled the words: “No, it’s Thomas Jefferson. I photograph him at all of the Presidential sites in the country.” I was appalled that she thought I looked like that homely General Washington; but I quickly forgot about her comment when I was placed onto the tombstone. From my position on the monument, I could see the outline of both Roosevelt’s graves below me; they had what appeared to be a different type of leafy vegetation on their plots. Behind me, I saw the sundial and the graves of FDR’s dogs; his beloved Fala and a German Shephard named Chief. I was excited as I had made it to my 22nd Presidential gravesite; not to mention the fourth one on this trip with eight left to see before we return home.
Once my photographer had captured several images of me as I stood on top of the marble tombstone, I had assumed he was going to take me back to the pathway where we had come from. Not a chance. Tom decided at that moment that he wanted to get a snapshot of me standing on FDR’s plot, which proved to be more challenging than it should have been. His first attempt at placing me onto the four different types of myrtle failed, as the stiff and rubbery leaves caused me to tip over. During his second try to place me upright on the grave, Tom dug me into the small vegetation, which worked. At that moment, as I proudly stood on FDR’s plot, knee-deep in the greenery, I head a man’s voice say: “What do you suppose this is for?” Without turning around, and with the camera strap still clenched tightly in his teeth, my photographer replied: “What do I suppose WHAT is for?” It was at that precise moment when I saw the man in the distance holding the barricade chain in his hand. “This. What do you think this is for?” Tom shot back: “It’s to keep people from walking on the flowers. What do you think it’s for?” The young man sarcastically replied: “Oh, so you think this chain is to keep people from walking on the flowers?” Tom countered with: “Yes, what else could it be there for?” That was the end of that conversation; my photographer quickly went to work taking pictures of me as I stood on that hallowed ground above one of the greatest Presidents in history. Tom felt his internal clock was ticking and that he had very little time left before a ranger would walk into the area and kick us off the property.
Finished with the photos of me on FDR’s gravesite, Tom picked me up and placed me back into the camera bag. At that moment, when I thought for sure he would simply carry me back to the pathway, my photographer turned around and said to the guy who was still standing nearby: “Hey, while you’re standing there, would you take my camera and get a picture of me standing out here?” The man seemed surprised by the request and replied: “No thank you.” Tom sarcastically fired back: “No. Thank YOU!” With that, I was carried back to the pathway and we headed towards the museum to catch up with Vicki.
The two of us walked directly behind the man and woman as we made our way to FDR’s Presidential Museum. I thought for sure, had the four of us crossed paths with a NPS Ranger, the guy would’ve turned us in; but luckily that never happened. We also didn’t see my photographer’s wife outside of the museum either. I thought to myself that Vicki must be inside admiring all of the FDR artifacts and that we would catch up with her at some point inside.
Within minutes after walking into Roosevelt’s Presidential Museum, we knew that it was one of the best that we’d visited; primarily because it featured dozens of authentic artifacts that were historically significant. It was the complete opposite of Clinton’s and George W’s museums where it was hard to find significant Presidential artifacts. Since FDR was elected to four terms, his Presidential Library was the only one ever used by a sitting President. For me, the highlight of the museum was when I saw FDR’s private study. That historic room not only was the site of several of his famous “Fireside Chats”, the room also remained intact as it was when he left the museum for the last time in March 1945.
Throughout our visit at FDR’s museum, we kept an eye out for my photographer’s wife; but we never saw her. After we finished with our photos, we walked out to the Avenger that was still in the parking lot; but she wasn’t there either. Tom returned to the museum and asked the security director to check the surveillance monitors in an effort to find her, but that attempt failed as well. I knew she wasn’t happy over the gravesite incident, but I didn’t think she would do something drastic. When we rechecked the car about 15 minutes later, she was sitting behind the steering wheel with the engine running. “I almost left your ass here!” My photographer was stunned and replied: “For what? I didn’t do anything wrong. All I did was get a photo of the bobble head on the grave. Is that a crime? I think you’re overreacting.” Needless to say, Vicki thought it was a crime, which made the drive towards Albany extremely quiet. As I sat in the backseat in the closed camera case, I thought to myself: “It’s crap like this that makes me appreciate traveling to Presidential sites with Mongo all the more!”
It was 3:40pm when we arrived in Albany. There were two sites that Tom wanted to see and photograph – the Governor’s Mansion that was once home to three Presidents; as well as the State Capitol Building. The Avenger was parked on the street near the mansion and I was carried to a locked gate where we had an obstructed view of the building. The view of the mansion wasn’t much better at a second locked gate either. Although my photographer captured several images of the building, he knew that someday we would have to schedule a tour of the mansion where I could pose for our photos. It was an important building in our Presidential quest as Grover Cleveland, Theodore Roosevelt and Franklin Roosevelt all resided within its walls. Martin Van Buren was also Governor of New York, but he held office before that mansion had been built.
It was a short drive to the State Capitol Building of New York. Since it was late on Sunday afternoon, the traffic was extremely light – which was the good news. The bad news was the Capitol Building was closed on weekends, which meant we obviously could not see the interior. Vicki, whose demeaner seemed to be back to normal, parked the Avenger and I was carried in the camera case to the front of the Capitol where Tom captured a handful of images of the ornate building.
We left Albany at 4:20pm and headed north to get into position for our next day’s first site – Ulysses S. Grant’s cottage near Wilton, New York. Although we searched on-line for an inexpensive motel near Saratoga Springs, which would’ve put us closer to Wilton; we ended up in Clifton Park, New York because the motels were a lot cheaper there. We arrived at the Holiday Inn Express in Clifton Park just before 5:00pm, which was early for the three of us. After giving it some thought, however, the early arrival was just what the doctor had ordered; especially when I considered the amount of walking that my photographer and his wife had endured at the Elephant’s Trunk Flea Market in Connecticut.
After I was placed onto the nightstand in the motel, I spent the night thinking about the moment I stood on FDR’s tombstone and looked down at his gravesite. I also thought about what it was like to stand on the stiff myrtle that covered the President’s plot. At about 2:00am, as I continued to think of Franklin Roosevelt, I thought I heard the voice of our 32nd President say, “So, first of all, let me assert my firm belief that the only thing we have to fear is…fear itself; and maybe Vicki when she is peeved.”
