Welcome to Washington DC! I’m staying with my brother here for a few days, visiting monuments and park sites, on foot and by Metro (electric vehicles only). I won’t have time to see everything, so I’m planning a return trip next year. I’m trying to publish a post per day, so you’ll have something to read while I’m on my way home.
George’s imposing monument above is the tallest structure in the city, and it’s got a great view of the National Mall, from the Lincoln Monument to the Capitol. There are tickets to the top sold at 8:45 each morning, but for $1 per ticket you can reserve up to a month in advance. The windows are small, but it’s still the best way to get a sense of L’Enfant’s Plan. L’Enfant served with Washington as a military engineer, and Washington commissioned him to design the city. His bold vision for the city exceeded the initial instructions from Jefferson, and L’Enfant deserves credit for creating the bold public spaces that define the District of Columbia for both government and the people.
What anxiety or misgivings troubled me so incessantly today, I know not. Perhaps the unseasonable heatwaves dragging on interminably through the nights have robbed me of my wits by denying me the respite of unconsciousness, no matter how much gin I consumed. Even staying in the drafty old seaside cottage that I once played in as an eccentric child, only served to remind me of my age, my lack of gainful employment, my failed marriage, and the solitary road ahead of me. The storms of late have struck frequently with bizarre intensity, with lightning barrages casting ghoulish flashes on the faces of my now elderly acquaintances, as if to taunt me with signs of my own mortality.
The inexorable tides reach higher on the barnacled rocks with each passing year, and the great lawn, strained with drought, is over-crowded with groundhogs, rabbits and even passing deer seeking refuge, so desperate for food that they eat any flowering bud of beauty, no matter how small or hidden. I have long been tormented by the certainty of impending doom that renders me humorless and unappreciative of the banal social events that my family includes me in vain to soothe my awkward, sulking gloom. But now, some fiery rage is stoked in my soul, as avarice and willful neglect threaten all species with mass extinction while casual citizens busily immerse themselves in the capricious and mundane.
Certainly, knowing the tragic and unexplained death that befell the strange man whose steps I follow from Boston to Philadelphia weighs heavily on my brooding mood. A poet, critic and editor whose genius never quite paid the bills nor protected him from loss. His wife died of consumption at 24, perhaps pre-cognizant of her fate, visualizing her flower surroundings she would not smell. All of their furnishings of course are long gone, so there’s nothing left to do but study the cracks in the walls, read his disturbing writings and let your imagination call you into the basement, where his fevered dreams dwelled too long. The crazed rantings of his characters echo in the cobwebbed corners, some quietly creaking like the stairs too treacherous to climb and some screaming in my head like the gasoline fueled monstrosities on the roads outside. How was one genius able to create the Detective, Horror and Science Fiction genres, I wonder, before once again losing myself in the melancholic realization that our future may yet become a deviously difficult to solve dystopian hell-scape of our own pollution. This is one of my favorite sites, if only in my imagination.
As General, U.S. Grant won the Civil War, and as President, he saved the Union. He created the Justice Department, supported the 15th Amendment and fought the Ku Klux Klan. Over a million people gathered to watch his funeral procession in 1885, and his mausoleum became one of the top tourist destinations in the nation.
Racists like President Johnson were determined to resist letting African Americans vote, and Grant agreed to run for President in large part to protect those rights. This divide of bigotry, which festered after the Civil War, continues to divide our country. After Grant’s death, the descendants of traitors promulgated the big lie (known as the Lost Cause) that the confederates were honorable, benevolent to slaves, and were the moral victors of the Civil War. To do so, they maligned Grant as a drunk, ignoring his reform efforts and associating him with corrupt officials. The campaign was effective, and Grant was often ranked among the worst Presidents.
Grant’s Indian policy illustrates the problem. Grant appointed the first Native American to be Commissioner of Indian Affairs, and Grant pledged “proper treatment of the original occupants of this land—the Indians.” Supporting peaceful reconciliation, his administration allowed many Quakers and Episcopalians to “help” the natives, instead of continuing genocide. Grant was a firm believer in the separation of church and state, but the religious people believed that converting the Natives was the best way to help them and thus erased so much of their culture. And many people still wanted to take Native American land, so well-intended land policies were similarly corrupted.
Like most of the park rangers I’ve spoken with, I’m a fan of Grant. We believe he was, generally for his time, on the right side of history and does not deserve the vitriol he received in life and death from those on the wrong side of history. I wish he had better understood the depths of and had proposed better solutions against systemic racism, but he was an ally of the Americans who were denied their rights by many white Americans. The struggle to secure the voting rights of African Americans and to restore justice to Native American communities continues over 150 years later. Grant recognized both his own failures of judgement and the moral sins of our nation. But Grant also said victory goes to those who keep fighting.
“Nations, like individuals, are punished for their transgressions.”
The New York Royal Governor Crosby’s allies tried to disenfranchise the Quakers by requiring them to swear an oath on the Bible, which violates their beliefs. In response, the colonial assembly voted in favor of religious freedom and protecting voting rights. The press coverage so annoyed the Governor, that he had the publisher arrested and tried at Federal Hall. But the publisher (Zenger) was acquitted in the case, resulting in expansion of freedom of the press.
The original church here was established by the British to impose the Church of England on the heretical Puritans and Quakers and others who lived here, including people like Anne Hutchinson, who fled both Boston and Rhode Island to avoid harassment over her belief that women could interpret scripture too. (The Hutchinson River Parkway is named after her). As the revolution approached, the people here split into factions of loyalists and patriots, and the graveyard contains families who fought on both sides, as well as Hessian mercenaries, slaves and free African Americans. There was some fighting nearby at Pell’s Point which helped Washington retreat to White Plains, and the church was used as a military hospital.
In addition to the fine old organ, family box-pews and flags pictured above, there’s also a bell cast in London in 1758 and a stained glass window. Much of the restoration work was done around WWII with fundraising led by FDR’s mother. But the surrounding neighborhood at the northeast border of the Bronx is now heavily industrial, not residential. (I walked from the Eastchester-Dyer Av station). The Episcopal church, which is related with yet independent from the Anglican Church, was deconsecrated around 1978 and is cooperatively managed with the parks service as a (secular) national historic site. Take some time to walk around the evocative colonial and early American graveyard.
Yesterday I mused about the need ‘to learn from our past to prepare for the future’, without realizing that today I would be looking at a symbol that means exactly that, the West African Sankofa, which is carved above the doorway of return on the opposite end of the memorial structure above. The architect, Rodney Leon, has filled this space with symbols and symbolism, and it evokes the slave-ship hold, the middle passage, the diaspora centered on West Africa and the depth of the remains. When we choose to recognize our roots and learn from them, we can draw strength to be better.
When the burial ground was rediscovered in 1991 and when protests forced the government to change their plans, I was abroad and missed the news reports of the historic find and cultural repercussions. Fortunately, the story is well told in the museum in both the park film and in the exhibits. Government leaders were initially unable to see the pricelessness of the rediscovery due to the value of the land, and the African American community needed to speak out both for their ancestors and for all of us to force the government to respect the remains, preserve the site and honor the contributions of Africans to this city and to our society. The archaeological research, the history of those buried here and some African artifacts are all on display. Facing the emotionally moving subjects daily, the rangers help visitors understand the site’s importance, history and significance.
“You may bury me in the bottom of Manhattan. I will rise. My people will get me.”
If General Sheridan returned to admire his statue, he would likely wonder why there were so many rainbow flags in his park. If he walked into the Stonewall Inn bar (to the left above), he would probably have more questions. But here on the 28th of June 1969, a police raid against the bar for illegally serving homosexuals sparked a riot against police oppression. Unlike earlier riots, a large crowd gathered and forced the police to retreat into the bar. The police called for backup, but the community brought even more protesters who linked arms and fought back. The bar was boarded up, but the protests became larger, as the LGBTQ+ community came out into the open in force to organize marches to Central Park that grew each year. Before Stonewall, some activists had begun staging “sip ins” at gay bars like Julius’ to protest the denial of civil rights and attempts to humiliate and prosecute people based on their sexual orientation. After Stonewall, laws began to change.
The bar itself is still serving drinks with pride, but the site is scheduled to become the headquarters & visitor center in 2024. There are other bars, nice shops and restaurants in the area, and it’s worth taking a stroll and maybe ordering a drink to raise a glass to the brave souls who fought police here. Despite being discriminated against by society and targeted by law enforcement, they demanded and won respect for their rights, bringing more freedom for everyone.
To prevent the British from taking New York (again) in 1812, a fort was built here on a man-made island (since filled in with the park above). As usual, the city reinvented the space several times, as an exhibition hall, an immigration center, an aquarium and as a national monument (where people also buy tickets to the Statue of Liberty & Ellis Island). The exhibit space is basically one room with displays showing the castle’s history, plus a few placards. The rangers are very helpful and knowledgeable, but unfortunately, nobody knew of a way to get to Liberty or Ellis Islands without burning carbon.
From the balcony outside, George Washington was sworn in as our first President in 1789. In 1790, Congress passed the Bill of Rights here, which was appropriate since the Zenger case that defined freedom of the press was tried here in 1735 and since the 1765 Stamp Act protests outside here defined freedom of assembly. The current version of Federal Hall was a Customs House in 1842 and later became a bullion depository for the US Treasury, which is appropriate given that it is around the corner from the NY Stock Exchange. New York City’s national park sites all seem to serve multiple purposes, as layers of history stack up in crowded urban spaces, but this quiet site offers a moment of respite to reflect on our past as we must prepare to face our future. I recommend eating at Fraunces Tavern nearby, since it predates our founding and is the oldest restaurant in New York City.
While I took the 1902 tour focusing on Jewish immigrants and the beef riots, the film in the museum was about two Joseph Moores, one black and one Irish, and explored the unequal outcomes dictated by law and society. I highly recommend both, as seldom does history provide so valuable a perspective on current issues such as the importance of activism in resisting inequality and injustice and as the long term impact of systemic racism.
The Levine family lived and worked in a three-room sweatshop tenement producing garments like those above (the one on the right is original), and their butcher’s family lived and worked in the basement. In the spring of 1902, the new scion of the Armour meatpacking firm of Chicago decided to hike the price of Kosher beef by 50%. He was trying to build an estate for his wife which would include a bowling alley, 20 marble fireplaces, fish ponds, a large herd of deer, and a greenhouse for growing oranges. (He inspired Upton Sinclair’s novel The Jungle). The Beef Trust had a monopoly on Kosher beef in New York City (at the time the largest Jewish city in the world), so they simply dictated the new price to all the butchers. The firm was renowned for low pay, strike-breaking, and hardball tactics to get whatever they wanted.
But they underestimated the Jewish housewives of the Lower East Side tenements. The women organized, boycotted, threw bricks through butcher shop windows, burned meat on their floors and even climbed down from the synagogue balconies to throw raw ground beef in the butchers’ faces. In a month, the price rise was reduced by 2/3rds, and a whole generation of suffragettes, union leaders and political activists was born. (In my first job, I worked with old women who had numbers tattooed on their arms, and they were not to be underestimated).
One of the historic Orchard St buildings is undergoing renovations, but all the tours, including the walking tours of the neighborhood are insightful. I recommend Katz’s deli or Russ & Daughters for a bite before or after your tour.
Since the musical, Hamilton’s home has been busier than ever. Built as a countryside retreat for his wife, Hamilton was killed in a duel only a couple of years later. But his wife and children lived here for many years, protecting his legacy and eventually donating his 18th century piano pictured above. The house itself has been moved a few blocks, twice, and the park service has only opened it for tours here in the past few years. The gardens are being regrown according to Hamilton’s old instructions, and the site is now located on the edge of a public park.
The town has grown up a bit since then. Historic Harlem is only a few blocks away, and I recommend dining at one of the old soul food restaurants with live music, if you have the time. I’m obviously in New York City, still traveling by EV, namely the Metropolitan Transit Authority’s NYC Subway.
“Who talks most about freedom and equality?
Is it not those who hold the bill of rights in one hand
Zero Carbon Travel 