Our agenda for Friday July 14, 2017 was ambitious and filled with Presidential sites; which was a relief to me as I had spent the previous day looking at old lighthouses. Because of the full itinerary, our alarm went off at 5:15am and we were on the road as soon as the Avenger was packed. The first site of the morning was one where we knew we couldn’t get too close; that was because it was still a summer home to two Presidents – the father and son duo George Bush. Built in 1902, the mansion was technically the Summer White House of George H.W. Bush; while George W. made the Prairie Chapel Ranch in Crawford, Texas his Presidential summer retreat.
We found a place to park the car on the shoulder of Ocean Avenue just south of Walker’s Point in Kennebunkport, Maine where we had a good view of the Bush Summer White House. The gray-sided mansion was situated over three football fields away from us across Sandy Cove, which made it difficult for my photographer to capture an image of me posing with the historic house.
We spent about 30 minutes on the shore of Sandy Cove as we admired the estate of George H.W. Bush. While we were there, my photographer had wondered if the 41st President was “tooling around” the estate in his wheelchair; but we weren’t sure if Bush was there at all. We left Kennebunkport around 8:00am and headed towards our next destination that was in Andover, Massachusetts; a drive that took us about an hour and fifteen minutes to cover the 70 miles. Vicki parked the Avenger around the corner from a large, white, two-story home that was once owned by John Aiken – brother-in-law of 14th President Franklin Pierce. Throughout his Presidency, Pierce used the Aiken home as his Summer White House.
After winning the 1852 election, President-elect Pierce and his family spent the Christmas holiday in the home. On January 6, 1853, Pierce; along with his wife Jane and 11-year-old son Bennie; left the house and boarded a train for Concord. A few minutes outside of Andover, the train derailed and killed the boy. On January 10, 1853, Bennie Pierce’s funeral was held in this house.
As I stood outside of the Pierce Summer White House, I thought of the heartbreak that Franklin must’ve felt inside the home. In 1853, the President-elect said his final goodbyes to his son Bennie in the home’s parlor. Ten years later, former President Pierce watched his beloved Jane die in one of the bedrooms; a few days later he mourned her during the former First Lady’s funeral. The house was a private residence, which meant we couldn’t venture inside; but I would’ve loved to have spent a night inside the house and listened for signs of Jane or Bennie. There’s not a doubt in my mind that Bennie’s spirit would’ve had fun with me!
After an hour-long drive from Andover that took us just north of Boston, we parked the Avenger on Beals Street in Brookline just a few doors from the birthplace of John F. Kennedy. JFK’s 100th birthday celebration was just 46 days earlier, which made our visit even more special to me. Before we toured the interior, my photographer took the outdoor photos of me with the house, which was perfect timing as we were alone. At one point, we met up with our NPS Ranger who was having lunch in the backyard. During her lunch, a bold gray squirrel had helped itself to a morsel of food and then wiped its mouth with one of her napkins.
The three-story house, located at 83 Beals Street in Brookline, was built in 1909 and purchased by Joseph Kennedy, Sr. on August 20, 1914 just after he and Rose returned from their honeymoon. At 3:00pm on May 29, 1917 in the upstairs Master Bedroom, the future 35th President John F. Kennedy was born. JFK’s sisters Rosemary and Kathleen were also born in the same room. My photographer carried me throughout the house where I posed in a few of the more important rooms: the Master bedroom where JFK was born; Joe and John’s bedroom; and the dining room where the young Kennedy boys ate their meals.
When the Kennedy family began to outgrow their home on Beals Street, they moved to a larger house located about two blocks away; a place that my photographer and his wife decided to walk to rather than ride in the car. That decision didn’t matter to me because I just rode along in my camera case; my only thought was: “Wake me up when we get there.” Our stroll through the quiet Coolidge Corner section of Brookline took less than ten minutes. Before I knew it, we were standing in front of a large, two-story home where John F. Kennedy lived from the ages of three to ten years. In 1927, Joseph Kennedy, Sr. packed up his family and moved to New York City.
Finished in Brookline, we got in the Avenger and headed for Quincy, Massachusetts. Unfortunately for Vicki, who was driving, our route went through the hectic traffic of Boston, and it took around 45 minutes to make the 15-mile journey to the Adams National Historical Park Visitor Center. My photographer and his wife went inside the building at 12:30pm to purchase their time-stamped ticket to tour the three Adams’ homes – the birthplaces of John Adams and his son John Quincy Adams; along with John and Abigail’s farmhouse they had named “The Old House at Peace field”. Once the tickets were secured, Tom mentioned to the ranger in the Visitor Center that he had made prior arrangements with the NPS and was granted permission to photograph two rooms inside Peacefield. He had opted to acquire permission as opposed to sneaking candid shots since photography had been banned inside the historic home due to alleged security concerns.
We had two hours to kill before we were scheduled to board the trolley at the Visitor Center for our ride to the Adams’ homes. That two-hour window gave us enough time to walk a block down the street where we not only visited the United First Parish Church where John and John Quincy Adams were entombed; we also had enough time to walk across the street to Hancock Cemetery to see their original tomb.
Once inside the historic church, I was stunned by the original mahogany altar; especially knowing that John Adams admired it with his own eyes. As we walked down the main aisle in the sanctuary, I kept my eyes peeled for the Adams’ family pew, which had the number 54 attached next to the aisleway door. As we searched for the historic spot, I thought to myself: “Pew 54, where are you?” The United First Parish Church is known in Massachusetts as the “Church of Presidents”; as two Presidents regularly worshipped there, and both were entombed in the family crypt beneath the church. My photographer placed me on the red cushioned seat in Pew 54 and the feeling I had was beyond words. From my position on the seat, I could see a bronze plaque affixed to the wooden seatback in front of me that stated, ‘The Adams Pew’. In my mind, I thought about John Adams as he sat in that pew with Abigail as he prayed for a quick and peaceful separation from England; a prayer that went unfulfilled. At the same time, I had also wondered if our 2nd President ever passed gas there and then sat in his own pew.
I was carried from the Adams’ pew to the back of the church where my photographer took me down a set of stairs and into the basement. When we arrived at the crypt room beneath the church, we had to wait for the wrought-iron gates of the crypt to be unlocked. When the elderly woman arrived to let us in, she led us into the room where I saw four large rectangular sarcophagi. There didn’t appear to be a lot of room for my rotund photographer to roam around as the large burial vaults took up most of the interior. It seemed as though the woman was in a hurry, as well, which meant my photographer had to work fast to capture the images that he desired.
The first sarcophagus that he placed me on was where our 2nd President John Adams has been resting in peace. I stood between the words ‘John’ and ‘Adams’ that were located just a few inches from the 15-star, 15-stripe American flag that adorned the head of the sarcophagus. As I proudly stood there for a handful of photos, I could see the final resting place of Abigail Adams that was next to her husband’s tomb. Also from that spot, I could see the graves of John Quincy Adams and his wife Louisa that were located about twenty-feet away on the opposite side of the crypt.
When our photos were finished at the grave of John Adams, I was snatched up and carried to the opposite side of the crypt and placed on the sarcophagus of John Quincy Adams – our 6th President. The first thing I noticed from my position alongside the etched name ‘Quincy’ was the large wreath that had been placed near the foot of the tomb. That decorative coronet had been sent by President Trump in honor of John Quincy Adams’ 250th birthday; a milestone that was observed on July 11th – only three days before our visit. Behind me, at the head of the tomb, I saw a 20-star, 13-stripe flag that represented the American flag during John Quincy’s Presidency. To my left, I saw the nearby granite tomb of Louisa Catherine Adams who was born in London and was the first First Lady born outside of the United States. Louisa was the only foreign-born First Lady until Melania Trump, who was born in Slovenia, became First Lady earlier in the year.
Our visit to the family crypt of the Adams’ went beyond my wildest expectations. For me, it was a relief that the interior of the crypt was well lit; had it been darker, I would’ve been slightly creeped out. Nowhere else in our country are there two Presidents entombed in such close proximity with each other. Of course, it helped that they were father and son; plus, the other father son Presidential duo (George H.W. and George W. Bush) were still alive and there was no telling where they will be buried upon their deaths. The chance that the Bush’s will be buried closer to each other than the Adams’ was slim to none.
Even though our clock was ticking, we still had plenty of time to walk across the street to visit Hancock Cemetery – a historic graveyard that was founded in 1640 and named after Reverend John Hancock, father of Founding Father John Hancock. My photographer had one goal in mind and that was to find the temporary tomb of John and John Quincy Adams; a task that took roughly ten minutes to accomplish. Although the tomb was empty, it once held the deceased bodies of John and Abigail Adams; as well as John Quincy and Louisa Adams; all before they were re-interred into the United First Parish Church crypt across the street. Tom placed me onto the granite façade of the tomb and from my perch I could see that bricks covered the opening. I also noticed that the name J. Q. ADAMS stood out prominently from the granite face of the tomb. At one point, as I stood in front of the tomb’s opening, I had wondered what it looked like inside. It was likely a lot darker than it was in the church crypt.
As we made our return trip to the Visitor Center, my photographer and his wife decided to visit the Jimmy John’s sub shop that was located near the trolley pick-up spot. Even though it was 1:35pm and we had 55 minutes before we boarded the trolley, I was concerned about the food stop – I just didn’t want to miss our ride and forfeit our opportunity to visit the Adams’ three homes. At exactly 2:30pm, however, I was carried onto the trolley and within ten minutes we were dropped off alongside the birthplace of our 2nd President John Adams.
Tom didn’t wait long to go to work after we departed the vehicle. While the other tourists were congregated near the trolley where they waited for the NPS ranger, my photographer carried me to the front of the dark brown two-and-a-half-story wooden salt box home that was purchased in 1720 by Deacon John Adams, Sr. On October 30, 1735, John Adams was born in an upper bedroom of that house. When we were finished at the first house, we walked roughly 75-feet away to a lighter-colored tan house that was once owned by John and Abigail Adams; and it was where 6th President John Quincy Adams was born on July 11, 1767 – a hair over 250 years ago.
As we prepared to enter the birthplace of John Adams, we got the disappointing news from the NPS Ranger: Photography inside the two homes was prohibited. Although my cameraman knew in advance that he had to acquire permission to take photos inside Peacefield, he was surprised that photography was banned inside a house that didn’t feature many authentic artifacts or furnishings. As I was carried through the small handful of rooms on the first floor, the one that stood out to me the most was in the back of the house where Deacon Adams held town meetings. It was in that room where young John Adams got his first political education. Unfortunately for the three of us, we didn’t get to see the bedroom where our 2nd President was born as it was upstairs and off-limits to tourists, which disappointed me beyond words.
The second of the two Adams homes was located 75-feet from John Adams’ birthplace. Deacon Adams bought his neighbor’s salt box home in 1744 and when he died in 1761, it was inherited by his son John. When the future 2nd President married Abigail Smith on October 25, 1764, he and his bride moved into the home and lived there for the next 20 years, although John was there only half of that time due to his political commitments. On July 11, 1767 in a small upper-floor bedroom, John and Abigail’s son John Quincy was born. In 1803, John Quincy Adams purchased both houses and eventually lived in his birthplace from 1805 to 1807.
I was carried into the small home where once again we only went into the first-floor rooms. But unlike his birthplace, the John Adams home featured a couple of rooms that sparked my interest. First, we saw the ‘keeping room’ where Abigail cooked the family meals. It was also in that room where the most incredible woman in American history melted down pewter to make musket balls for the American Revolution. Another room that was historically mind-blowing to me was one that John Adams used as his law office and where he wrote the Massachusetts Constitution; a document that our United States Constitution was modeled after. Adams’ document is also the oldest living constitution in the world today.
It took a little over a half-hour to visit both Presidential birthplace homes. Our group boarded the trolley and we made the 1.5-mile trip to the historic “Old House at Peace field” – the home of John and Abigail Adams. As soon as we walked off the trolley, my photographer met up with the NPS Ranger that was assigned to escort the two of us into the Adams mansion for our photo-shoot. While Tom held me in his hand on the sidewalk leading to the home, the ranger said something that stunned me: “That’s Thomas Jefferson, not John Adams? I’m not sure I can allow photos with a Jefferson bobble head inside John Adams’ home. I thought I was told you had a John Adams bobble head.” As I was shaking my head in disbelief (although I shake my head constantly anyways), Tom got into a heated debate with the woman about why he thought Jefferson was a better President and forefather than John Adams. In my unbiased opinion, my photographer won the debate hands down.
After the two stubborn and passionate people agreed to disagree, I was carried into Peacefield where we immediately headed upstairs and into John Adams’ study; a room where he spent a lot of his time in retirement. As I looked around, I saw Adams’ desk that was positioned in front of the fireplace. From that historic desk, John Adams wrote countless letters to his friend Thomas Jefferson. But positioned in the corner of the room was one the pieces of furniture that I had come to see: John Adams’ favorite armchair that he was sitting in when his heart gave out on the morning of July 4, 1826.
From his study, John Adams was carried down the hallway to his bedroom where the 90-year old Founding Father went in and out of consciousness. While our country was celebrating the golden anniversary of American Independence, John Adams muttered his final words: “Jefferson still survives.” At 6:20pm on July 4, 1826, John Adams died. He had no way of knowing, however, that his friend, colleague, rival, and fellow Signer of the Declaration of Independence died about five hours earlier. The fact that the only two signers of that great document, both of whom went on to become President of the United States, died on the 50th anniversary of the adoption of the declaration is perhaps the most mystical coincidence in American history. I was carried along the same hallway that Adams was carried; once we were in his bedroom, I got my first glimpse of the bed where John Adams had died.
Standing next to John Adams’ deathbed was an honor for me and somehow, I knew that the Duke of Braintree would have smiled and approved of my visit; no matter what the NPS Ranger said about me. In my mind’s eye I could see the weakened man as he laid in that bed. Adams was aware of the special anniversary of American Independence, and I could see him struggling to speak his famous and final words: “Jefferson still survives”.
We were guided back downstairs and then outside where I posed for a handful of photos with the exterior of Peacefield. John and Abigail bought their farmhouse sight unseen in 1787 while they lived in London. The following year they moved into the home and were surprised by what they saw, especially after living in some of the finer homes in England. The house at that time consisted of only two low-ceilinged rooms on the ground floor, two bedrooms, and an attic. Abigail Adams wrote “it feels like a nest”; and during the subsequent twelve years, while her husband was away as Vice President and President, she went to work and had their home enlarged. Today, The Old House at Peace field has 21 rooms.
During the time my photographer and I were outside, we had the chance to visit the garden that was located to the west of the mansion. While her husband was in Philadelphia serving as George Washington’s Vice President, the garden was Abigail Adams’ sacred place. It was not only where she grew the food to feed her family, it was also where she went to admire her flowers and trees. Abigail loved ornamental gardens and the music from songbirds; tastes that she had acquired in Paris. Her garden also helped her cultivate something else from Paris as well; her friendship with Thomas Jefferson – a man who enjoyed gardens and songbirds as much as she did. I knew there was a reason why I liked Abigail Adams so much!
When our garden visit was finished, my photographer and his wife went on the public tour of John Adams’ beloved mansion. With me in his hand, Tom carried me through the entire mansion – the rest of the historic home did not disappoint. At every corner, it was as though we would encounter John reading a book or writing a letter; or we would find Abigail tending to one of the children. At times, I wondered if we would run into Lurch somewhere in the house as well. Peacefield was one of the most awe-inspiring Presidential homes I ever had the pleasure of visiting. Their house was a museum when people came to see ’em; they really were a scream, the Adams family. “Snap. Snap.”
The trolley dropped us off at the Visitor Center and we made it back to the Avenger at roughly 4:45pm. We had been in Quincy for over four hours; not only did the time fly by, but the visit was also worth every minute we spent there. But we weren’t quite finished with the Adams family yet. My photographer punched-in the GPS coordinates and we headed for a small house in Weymouth, Massachusetts that was only ten minutes to the south.
Vicki had to park the car on the shoulder of Norton Street in Weymouth as we didn’t see a driveway or parking lot near Abigail Adams’ birthplace. While his wife stayed in the car, my photographer carried me across the street to a small wooden two-story home that was painted brown with rust-colored trim. On November 22, 1744, Abigail Smith was born in the house in front of me and she lived there until she married John Adams on October 25, 1764. Their marriage ceremony took place inside that home, which we couldn’t enter as it was open only on Sunday. I stood on the window ledge of the home and did my best impersonation of a Peeping Tom, but the curtains prevented me from seeing the interior. As I stood there, however, I thought about what an amazing woman Abigail Adams was. After all, she was the first woman in American history to be the wife of one President and the mother of another; although she did not live to see John Quincy elected to the White House.
My photographer’s wife had visited the homes of several American patriots on that day. As we prepared to leave Weymouth, she said it was time to visit the home of some more patriots; which meant we were headed for Foxborough and Gillette Stadium – home of the New England Patriots. Tom Brady is Vicki’s favorite player, and the Patriots are her favorite NFL team. The fact that we were a little over 20 miles from the stadium put the spring back into her step; even though it was after 5:00pm and we had spent the entire day visiting Presidential sites.
We shouldn’t have been surprised that our arrival at Gillette Stadium was met with controversy. After Vicki had pulled the Avenger into the stadium parking lot, the three of us walked a bit closer to capture a few photos. A minute or two went by before security informed us that we couldn’t park where we were and we needed to move the car. It was no surprise, at least to me, when my photographer shouted a few remarks to the security officer; remarks that left Vicki more deflated than a Brady game-used football. She quickly moved our car to a nearby parking lot that served the Patriot Place shopping center, while at the same time Tom captured his images of the stadium without an issue. We walked into the Patriots Pro Shop at one end of the stadium where we saw thousands of souvenirs with the Patriots logo slapped on them. The souvenirs that were the coolest, especially to Vicki, were the Tom Brady autographed jersey and NFL football; each of which came with a hefty price tag.
For dinner, we ate at the CBS Sporting Club that was located in the complex; at the same time my photographer’s wife secured our room at the Hilton Garden Inn that was also situated in the Patriot Place complex. Once we were in our room, Vicki had an unexpected surprise when she looked out of the window – we had a great view of Gillette Stadium. My photographer wanted a night photograph of the stadium, which meant I was left near the television set while he and Vicki walked around the complex to an area near the Pro Shop where we had been earlier. When they returned 30 minutes later, I heard Vicki mention that she had asked the hotel’s desk clerk what it would cost to stay in our room on a Patriot’s game day: “I asked the girl how much our $125 room would be on a day when the Patriots were playing. She told me $1200 per night and I about crapped my pants; that’s ridiculous.”
When the lights in our room went out, I figured Vicki would dream about the G.O.A.T. and my photographer would think about the next day’s visit to the JFK Library. For me, however, my resin-filled mind was focused solely on humpback whales and our upcoming boat ride to see them. I didn’t have a fear of whales or the boat ride, I just didn’t want a seasick kid puking on me.
