Bob Moldenhauer was up at sunrise on Tuesday May 14, 2019 as the weather finally allowed him to make his morning run. I saw him as he quietly left the motel room; Bob did his best not to wake my snoring photographer. Mongo had a jump in his step and a smile on his face – and I knew why: he was headed to the site where the Wright Brothers flew the first airplane. While Moldenhauer loves history and the Presidents, his number one interest is visiting places that are associated with our astronauts. As a matter of fact, Bob has met dozens of American spacemen and women; and some of them know him by name. And for Bob Moldenhauer, Kill Devil Hills is the holy grail for space flight as it’s the site where a human first left the ground in a controlled powered machine.
My photographer finally rolled out of the sack at around 7:00am, which was about the time that Mongo had returned from his run. The two of them got the Acadia packed and we were in line to enter the Wright Brothers National Memorial roughly twenty minutes before it opened. The NPS pass that Tom had purchased in Yorktown got the three of us in without paying and before I knew it, we were standing alongside a large granite monument that was in the middle of a field. From an opening in the camera case, I could easily read the bronze plaque that was affixed to the side of the monument: “The first successful flight of an airplane was made from this spot by Orville Wright December 17, 1903, in a machine designed and built by Wilbur and Orville Wright”. On the ground, next to the large chunk of granite, was a reproduction of the launch rail that the Wright’s had used to guide their “Flyer” before it became airborne. Even though this was not a Presidential site, I was thrilled to death to be at the spot where one of the greatest achievements in world history took place. As my photographer slowly removed me from the camera case to place me on the rail, he discovered that the surgery on my leg from the night before didn’t work well. Likely during our short hike to the historic site, the jostling in the camera case may have caused my leg to crack open again. Not wanting to take a chance of my wound getting worse, Tom left me in the case during our entire time at the Wright Brothers site. That decision was based on the fact that we had a couple of Presidential sites to visit later in the day and my photographer needed me to be able to stand on my own two legs. Luckily for me, my companion left the top of the camera case open so that I could see the historic sites with my own painted eyes.
From the left wing of the sculpture, the Wright Brothers Monument can be seen through the plane’s front rudder.
The time we spent at the site where Orville and Wilbur Wright flew the first airplane on December 17, 1903 was amazing and is a place where every American should visit at least once in their lifetime. I looked out from the camera case from where Orville took to the air for only 12 seconds on a flight that carried him just 40 yards; and then I thought about the fact that only 66 years later, men flew to the Moon and back. To me, that was truly mind boggling. Then I had another epiphany – America sent astronauts to the Moon and brought them back safely, but we don’t yet have glue that can effectively keep my leg together.
After our visit to the site where the first flights were made by the Wrights, I was carried inside the Visitor Center’s museum where we saw plenty of authentic artifacts that were related to the Wright Brothers; as well as replicas of Orville and Wilbur’s gliders and their first planes. One artifact that I knew was near and dear to Mongo’s heart was the pieces of the original “Flyer” that Neil Armstrong took to the Moon’s surface with him during the Apollo 11 mission in 1969. A small piece of wood from the plane’s propeller and a small section of fabric taken from the “Flyer’s” wing were stowed away in Armstrong’s “personal preference kit” that he had onboard the Lunar Module.
Finished in the museum, Tom drove us south of Kill Devil Hill where we stopped at the life-size sculpture of the first flight scene that was nearly in the shadow of the Wright Brothers Monument. I had to give my photographer a lot of credit for exercising patience during our visit as Stephen H. Smith’s sculptures were crawling with kids, which made it difficult for Tom to capture his pictures. I nearly laughed out loud when I heard my photographer growl to himself when he saw a ten-year-old kid sitting on top of Orville Wright’s back as he ‘flew’ the plane. Within 15 minutes, however, we had our photos and rendezvoused with Mongo near the West side of the monument. We had been to the southernmost point of the trip and now it was time to head North.
During our drive out of the Outer Banks, I got extremely excited when my photographer mentioned to Bob that we were going to make a quick stop at the home of the grave digger. I immediately wondered which Presidential grave the person had dug and whether or not I would get to meet that guy. But, when Tom pulled into the parking lot of a place in Poplar Branch, North Carolina, I was immediately disappointed; and quite frankly, I felt betrayed. The grave digger that my photographer had referred to was a Monster Truck and Tom wanted to snap a few photos and buy tee-shirts for his grandsons. It turned out that the Grave Digger is Bo and Rory’s favorite Monster Truck and my camera guy simply couldn’t resist the temptation to stop.
We spent only about 20 minutes at the Digger’s Dungeon; mainly because my photographer knew that he would be back with Bo and Rory. Time was precious at that point because we were nearly 250 miles from Washington D.C. and we had at least three sites to see before we got to our Nation’s Capital. At roughly 3:30pm, we arrived at the first of those sites near Warsaw, Virginia – and it was a place that Tom and Bob had first heard about during their 1991 Declaration of Independence tour. After a brief stop at the Menokin Visitor Center, the three of us headed down a two-track roadway to the historic site where the ruins of Menokin were in the process of being preserved.
Menokin was built around 1769 and was a wedding gift from John Tayloe II to his daughter Rebecca and her new husband Francis Lightfoot Lee after their marriage in 1772. Just four years later, Lee was in Philadelphia as a Virginia representative to the Continental Congress and he voted for and signed the Declaration of Independence. Once Lee had retired from public service, he and Rebecca lived the rest of their lives at Menokin. The loving couple died just four days apart at their beloved Menokin in January 1797.
The historic two-story stone house was in rough shape as half of the exterior had collapsed to the ground over the years and the interior didn’t look much better. But as I stood directly in front of the dilapidated structure, the true beauty of Menokin began to emerge – at least in my eyes. As a matter of fact, Buzz Aldrin’s words that he spoke as he stood on the Lunar surface in 1969 popped into my mind: “Magnificent desolation”. My photographer carried me around the entire perimeter of Menokin and I was afforded a glimpse of history 220 years into the past. At one point, I had wanted Tom to set me onto a section of the debris field for a picture; but I could sense that he didn’t feel comfortable getting too close to the ruins as the historic structure didn’t appear to be overly stable. My cameraman knew that Francis Lightfoot Lee and his wife Rebecca both died in that house; Tom didn’t want to be the next casualty at Menokin.
Located only a few miles south of Menokin was a plantation house that was near and dear to the hearts of my photographer and Mongo. Mount Airy Plantation was built around 1758 and was the home of Colonel John Tayloe II. During their 1991 D of I tour, Tom and Bob had permission from the owner of Mount Airy, Mrs. Polly Tayloe, to visit her historic home and the Tayloe Family Cemetery where Signer Francis Lightfoot Lee was buried. A month or two before our 2019 trip, Tom did his best to contact the family members for permission to once again visit Mount Airy; but unfortunately, his request went unanswered. Since we were less than six miles away, my photographer and his friend decided to venture onto the property for at least a glimpse of the historic Mount Airy home. It was cool for me to hear their excitement as Tom drove the Acadia up the long driveway towards Mount Airy as my companions relived their ’91 visit. Suddenly, my photographer stopped the car when he saw the mansion through an opening in the pine trees. From my position inside the camera case, I could hear Tom and Bob as they discussed whether or not they should continue their journey up to the house. While their credo has always been: It’s better to beg for forgiveness rather than ask for permission; they decided against going closer than they already were. Their trip to Mount Airy in 1991 was very special and they didn’t want to jeopardize that moment in time by an uninvited and unexpected visit that could potential turn out bad – especially if Polly, or her daughter Anne Emery, or granddaughter Mary didn’t live there anymore.
As we retraced our path out to the main highway, I could tell that both Tom and Bob second-guessed their ultimate decision to not get closer to the house. After all, Mount Airy did have a Presidential connection. It turned out that Colonel John Tayloe II was friends with George Washington and the future first President had visited the plantation a time or two. In my mind, however, I thought it was the right move to respect the family’s privacy. I figured there would be a time in the future when Tom and Bob could revisit Mount Airy and it would be a reunion that I would love to partake in as well. I could envision myself standing on the same front steps that Mary Emery had stood in 1991 when she held my photographer’s copy of the Declaration of Independence.
It was a couple of minutes before 5:00pm when we arrived at the birthplace site of President James Monroe that was located near Monroe Hall, Virginia. During the 30-mile drive from Mount Airy, we passed the road that led to the birthplace site of George Washington; and we ended up only 15 miles east of where James Madison was born. It was hard for me to fathom that three of our first five Presidents were all born within 25 miles of each other. There was no doubt in my mind that Virginia’s Northern Neck is the cradle of American history and the birthplace of its presidency.
The first thing I saw when Tom carefully removed me from the camera case was a 12-foot tall granite obelisk that marked the birthplace site of fifth President James Monroe. Born in a small farmhouse at this site on April 28, 1758, James Monroe lived and worked on the family farm until he left for college. When the future President’s father died in 1774, James inherited the farm. Over the years, the farmhouse was abandoned and then was destroyed; only remnants of its foundation were recently discovered by archaeologists. In 2017, a project to build a replica of the birth home of President Monroe began and was still ongoing during our visit. After I posed for a few photos standing alongside the obelisk, I was carried further back onto the property where we saw the replica farmhouse. There was also a small Visitor Center on the grounds as well, but that was closed for the day.
Our stay at the Monroe birth site lasted for about 20 minutes. Once we returned to our vehicle, we began the 15-mile journey westward to Belle Grove – the plantation where James Madison was born. Upon our arrival at that site, we saw a large sign at the entrance which stated that Belle Grove was not only the birthplace of President Madison, it was currently a Bed and Breakfast as well. Tom navigated the Acadia along the gravel roadway until we came to a circular driveway directly in front of the impressive mansion. The first thing I saw when I was removed from the camera case was a large sign that let visitors know that Belle Grove was a private residence and the mansion and grounds were currently closed. The sign also stated that uninvited guests were not to proceed past that point; unless, of course, they had reservations to spend the night there. I immediately thought to myself: “Or else what? That has never stopped my photographer and Mongo before!”
Luckily for the three of us, Belle Grove was visibly in the open and unobstructed to the eye; which made it easy for Tom to get some nice images of the historic plantation – at least from a distance. The current Belle Grove Bed and Breakfast was built in 1790; which was nearly 40 years after the birth of James Madison. It turned out that the plantation house where our fourth President was born on March 16, 1751 had been destroyed (likely by fire, which was the destiny of a lot of historic buildings) and was replaced by the current structure. Since the three of us were unable to venture close to the house, Tom did his best to photograph me with the building in the background. Perhaps someday in the future my cheap photographer will bring me back to Belle Grove where I can pose for images inside the building instead of standing 250 feet away.
After our photo-shoot in front of Belle Grove had finished, I thought maybe my photographer would throw caution to the wind and carry me up to the porch; but he didn’t. In a ‘worst-case scenario’, I figured we would only get yelled at or asked to vacate the property. I was concerned. Had my photographer lost his nerve? Some of our finest moments and greatest adventures in our first six years of visiting Presidential sites have been due to him taking a chance. There’s a Star Trek quote that continuously runs through my head, although I’ve changed the working up a bit: “Presidential history – the final frontier. Our mission: To explore historic sites; to walk in the footsteps of the Presidents; and to boldly go where no one has gone before.” And then we quietly drove away.
With Belle Grove behind us, it was time to boldly go to Washington, D.C. – or at least to our motel just south of our Nation’s Capital. During the one-hour, twenty-minute journey to our hotel in Alexandria, Virginia, I had flashbacks of the cockroach that Tom killed in our bathroom at the Best Western Hotel near the Pentagon during my first trip to D.C. in 2014. I was relieved when I heard Mongo say that he didn’t reserve our room at “The Cockroach Inn”; but instead we had reservations at the Day’s Inn – a relatively inexpensive place that Bob had stayed at in the past. While that hotel was over four miles further away from our sites in Washington, we were confident that our room would be “roach free”.
It was a few minutes after 7:00pm when we arrived at our home-away-from-home for the next four nights. Once the guys had unpacked the Acadia, the three of us headed to the IHOP that shared a parking lot with the hotel. After I had the displeasure of listening to my photographer gorge himself on pancakes, we finally settled into our room at around 8:15pm. But it wasn’t time for the lights to be turned off just yet. Instead, I headed to the surgical table where Tom once again did his best to fix my left leg. He took a small piece of gauze tape and glued it into place with Gorilla Glue. Once that procedure had time to dry, he wrapped my leg with an additional strip of tape. I was impressed because the color of the tape matched the color of my stockings; which made it hard to detect that I was a surgery survivor.
As I stood alongside the television set with the newfound strength in my legs, I could feel a sense of excitement in the room. As I listened to my photographer and Mongo discuss the plans for our first day in Washington, it was at that moment when I realized why they were so excited: We had tickets to tour the White House in the morning. I couldn’t believe my resin-sculpted ears – in a little over twelve hours, I would be inside the home to every President since John Adams. But as mind-boggling as that news was, it got even better – I discovered that we were also scheduled to go back into the White House on Friday as well. It turned out that we were slated for a regular public tour of the Executive Mansion on Friday morning; we had an invitation for lunch in the West Wing at noon; and we were invited for a private West Wing tour at 8:30 in the evening where we had a possible chance to see the Oval Office. Now I understood why it was important to my photographer that he performed surgery on my damaged left leg that night. He wanted me to look good in case we met President Trump or Vice President Pence. He also needed me to be able to stand upright on my own two legs; just in case he had the chance to set me onto the Resolute Desk in the Oval Office. When the lights in the room were finally extinguished, all I could think about throughout the entire night was the White House. In 2014, I had posed in front of both the North and South sides of the historic mansion. But in the morning, I would get closer – a lot closer. Would I make it into the hands of the President of Vice President; or even First Lady Melania Trump? Only time would tell!
