Washington, D.C. Today we drove there to visit a holy site: Ford's Theater, site of the April 14, 1865 assassination of America's greatest president ever, Abraham Lincoln.
First we toured the museum in the basement, where we viewed the tiny derringer fired by actor John Wilkes Booth to murder the president. We also saw most of the clothing that Lincoln wore that famous night, as well as some of the attire worn by Booth himself. Also on display were guns, knives, and other artifacts used by Booth's co-conspirators, who had been tasked to "take out" other high government officials. One or two came perilously close to succeeding.
Upstairs, we strolled around the theater itself, with its plush red furniture and carpeting, and its elegant scrollwork. I had hoped to gain access to Lincoln's box, where I could view his rocking chair and see the tiny peep hole pre-drilled by Booth to spy on the President. In this I was disappointed, for such access is denied. Nevertheless, we moved to the other side of the balcony, where a fine view of the box could be had. We marvelled at the elevation of the box, from which Booth leapt to the stage in his escape, breaking his ankle in the process. And I made note of the settee in the box, where sat two betrothed Albany, New York residents, Major Henry Rathbone, and his step-sister, Clara Harris, daughter of New York's U.S. Senator. Both would come to tragedy many years later, no less Booth's victims than Lincoln. Only one with a heart of iron would fail to be moved by this museum and its story.
Still another disappointment: we were unable to access the Peterson House, the boarding house across the street to where Lincoln was carried after he was wounded, and in which he died the next morning. A major restoration project had just commenced a few weeks before.
Later we taxied to one of D.C.'s most famous restaurants, the Old Ebbit Grill, where we enjoyed an extraordinary meal, and where we met the man who must be one of the city's greatest characters, 76-year-old Georges de Paris. Georges has served as a White House tailor since the Kennedy Adminstration, and even sports a tape measure around his neck while standing at the bar sipping his wine. One cannot help but be completely charmed by this striking and gregarious man, and we made sure we were photographed with him.
Next we strolled a block-and-a-half to 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue, and viewed the White House at the North Portico. I noted that a pair of moving vans were parked near the entrance. Is something happening that we are not aware of?!?! Are Republicans that certain of the upcoming elections?
We returned to our vehicle, and drove I-66 and I-81 back to our condo at Massanutten. It had been a magical day, never to be forgotten.
First we toured the museum in the basement, where we viewed the tiny derringer fired by actor John Wilkes Booth to murder the president. We also saw most of the clothing that Lincoln wore that famous night, as well as some of the attire worn by Booth himself. Also on display were guns, knives, and other artifacts used by Booth's co-conspirators, who had been tasked to "take out" other high government officials. One or two came perilously close to succeeding.
Upstairs, we strolled around the theater itself, with its plush red furniture and carpeting, and its elegant scrollwork. I had hoped to gain access to Lincoln's box, where I could view his rocking chair and see the tiny peep hole pre-drilled by Booth to spy on the President. In this I was disappointed, for such access is denied. Nevertheless, we moved to the other side of the balcony, where a fine view of the box could be had. We marvelled at the elevation of the box, from which Booth leapt to the stage in his escape, breaking his ankle in the process. And I made note of the settee in the box, where sat two betrothed Albany, New York residents, Major Henry Rathbone, and his step-sister, Clara Harris, daughter of New York's U.S. Senator. Both would come to tragedy many years later, no less Booth's victims than Lincoln. Only one with a heart of iron would fail to be moved by this museum and its story.
Still another disappointment: we were unable to access the Peterson House, the boarding house across the street to where Lincoln was carried after he was wounded, and in which he died the next morning. A major restoration project had just commenced a few weeks before.
Later we taxied to one of D.C.'s most famous restaurants, the Old Ebbit Grill, where we enjoyed an extraordinary meal, and where we met the man who must be one of the city's greatest characters, 76-year-old Georges de Paris. Georges has served as a White House tailor since the Kennedy Adminstration, and even sports a tape measure around his neck while standing at the bar sipping his wine. One cannot help but be completely charmed by this striking and gregarious man, and we made sure we were photographed with him.
Next we strolled a block-and-a-half to 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue, and viewed the White House at the North Portico. I noted that a pair of moving vans were parked near the entrance. Is something happening that we are not aware of?!?! Are Republicans that certain of the upcoming elections?
We returned to our vehicle, and drove I-66 and I-81 back to our condo at Massanutten. It had been a magical day, never to be forgotten.
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