Historic Home Tours: One Size Does Not Fit All

As an aspiring preservationist and historic home curator, one of the highlights of my trip to Virginia this summer was going on tours of three historic homes. When I lived in the DC area in the late 80s and early 90s, I made it to many of the essential tourist sites - the Jefferson and Lincoln Memorials, the Capitol, the Library of Congress, and almost all of the Smithsonian museums. I also spent many weekends at the National Gallery of Art. Sometimes, on these outings, I would have a companion, but just as often, I would go it alone. While in Virginia this summer, I had the pleasure of my Aunt Maggie's company on a couple of house tours. She was definitely one of the best "tourist buddies" I've had. We toured two homes together - Mount Vernon and Woodlawn Plantation. Then, I toured one other home - Frank Lloyd Wright's Pope-Leighey House - alone (Maggie had to take my cousin to a doctor's appointment). After our tours, what struck me most was not the architecture, furnishings or the stories the various docents told us, but how different the nature of three different tours were.

We started with Mount Vernon. Because of the numbers of people who tour the grounds and home, the tour of Mount Vernon was very well-organized, but somewhat regimented and impersonal. The posts and chains seen bordering the lawns in the picture above, in some sense, extend into the home itself. Visitors enter through a side door that leads into a beautiful dining room. The docent delivers her speech and one joins a line that snakes through the house giving you glimpses of porch, receiving hall, bedrooms and Washington's office. And I do mean "glimpses." Being a part of this circuitous line, one feels obliged to keep moving so as not to slow things up. (Although we did encounter one little princess of a girl whose mother had no qualms about letting her hold up the line with her toddler-sized histrionics.) Once you exit the house, there is freedom to walk the grounds, take pictures and tour the museum and education center. Now, don't get me wrong, the tour of Mount Vernon is nice. The docents know their scripts well and do their best to engage visitors with simple questions. And, of course, the house is amazing.

A few days later Maggie and I went to Woodlawn Plantation, the home of Martha Washington's daughter and George Washington, step-daughter. This tour was completely different to the one at Mount Vernon. First of all, Maggie and I were the only people on the tour. It reminded me of other historic homes where docents wait patiently - and, sometimes, desperately - for the odd visitor to arrive. After paying the admission fee and me making a quick trip outside, around the corner of the house, and down a set of stairs to the restrooms, we entered Woodlawn through the front door, which, once inside, the docent locked and barred with one of those beams you see doors locked with in the movies. For a minute, I thought we were trapped! The tour of Woodlawn was, in a word, leisurely. Because we had the docent to ourselves, we were able to ask questions and get more information than what one gets from a "canned" interpretive script. For me, one of the more interesting points the docent made was how the curators of the home had decided to reset how the rooms were cordoned off. Before, as is typical in many homes, including Mount Vernon, visitors were allowed to enter into rooms within about a three-feet by three-feet area just inside the door. Recently, the ropes had been moved to allow visitors to entire the room entirely while maintaining a proper distance from the furniture, especially the beds and chairs. (In one room, I nearly made a new exit through one of the walls, when a closet door began to open on its own. I was sure we were being visited by a ghost. The docent pointed out that the door led to offices for the staff. Whew!) In the end, the tour of Woodlawn was, as I said, leisurely and very well done.

On the same property as Woodlawn, but well enough removed so as not to compete with it, is the Pope-Leighey house, an example of Frank Lloyd Wright's "Usonian" house design. As I said, I toured this one alone, since my Maggie had to take my cousin to a doctor's appointment. (I say "alone." There were 6 or 7 in our particular group.) Again, this tour was unlike either Mount Vernon or Woodlawn. First, and most noticeably, we were allowed - or maybe, made - to sit down on chairs in the living area. To be honest, the chairs are reproductions from Wright's designs. Also, nothing was cordoned off as in the other homes. While we stayed with our tour group, the docent showed us through the house - which is much smaller than either of the previous homes - as if we were guests visiting for the first time. At each stop - bedrooms, bathroom, kitchen, dining area - she encouraged us enter completely and look around. Our docent was also the kind that, while she had a script and key points memorized, also gave us "behind-the-scenes" anecdotes about the "Usonian" houses, the previous owner and the preservation process. She also sprinkled her talk with some personal opinions. Some might find such personal interjections improper or off-putting, but I felt it spoke of a genuine and personal connection to the home, as if, in a way, it was hers.

So, three very different tours of three very different homes. What historic homes have you visited where the style of tour made an impression on you? Was the impression favorable? Or not?

An Outing Fit for a King

On my recent trip to Virginia to visit family, I took in many sites that I had never been to, even though I had lived in the area. Toward the end of the week, my aunt had to take my cousin to a doctor's appointment, so I decided to go for a drive. I visited Fredericksburg, VA and then, headed out the King's Highway just to see what was there. I stopped for a minute at George Washington's birthplace and then, in King George, came across this great little church - St. John's Episcopal Church. What struck me was the bell tower. I have never seen one like it. Being an Episcopal church in a town named King George, I would assume the architecture is in an English style. To me, though, it looks like it has Dutch or German influences. I'll have to do some research. What do you think?

The Grand Dame of H Street, NE

Recently, the National Trust for Historic Preservation has been running a campaign where people across the country photograph themselves with buildings and hold a sign that reads "This Place Matters." For me, the building in this photograph definitely matters. It sits on the corner of H and Third Streets, NE in Washington, DC. Originally built in the late 1800s to serve as a convent and nursing home run by the Little Sisters of the Poor, by the 1970s, Capital Children's Museum had taken up residency and transformed the building into a wonderland. I began working at the Museum in 1987 and instantly fell in love with the place. Everyone on staff work hard, none more than our executive director, Ann Lewin, to keep the exhibits and building repaired. Even then, the building was showing its age. There were many days when the elevator wouldn't work, the heat was not enough in the winter and the air conditioning kept no one cool in the summer. But we had fun, especially, I hope, the families who came to visit. There are too many special memories of the eight years I spent at the Museum to recount here - working until 3 a.m. on a new exhibit, welcoming dignitaries and celebrities, being on your best behavior while the Secret Service conducted mock tours (the building had so many nooks and crannies, it was perfect for them), and many days and nights spent with some of the most talented, creative and smart people I have ever worked with.

The Museum closed its doors in 2005 to begin the process of opening a new museum - the National Children's Museum - in a modern facility (now scheduled to be built at the National Harbor complex). When I heard the news of the Museum closing, I worried about the fate of the old building. Who would want it? Would it be torn down? Luckily, a developer saw the potential of the building, and in what turned out to be a great at example or reuse, turned the building into apartments. The developer also built two mid-rise apartments on the site - one square block.

I visited the building recently and seeing it was a little bittersweet. I am so glad it was saved from the wrecking ball, but it was little sad that will never again "my Museum."

Preservationists Rally Against Plan for “Pit” in Union Station

How timely to my previous post on personal memories of Union Station. I agree that the proposed modifications to the Grand Hall are misguided. At one time, the Grand Hall was the waiting area for the trains. It must have been something to sit on a bench and look up at those Stoic soldiers watching over everyone. When Union Station was re-opened in the late 1980s, the first time I entered the Grand Hall, it was, for me, one those "wow" moments that one enjoys in the grand architecture of DC, much like walking into the Capitol building the first time or the Library of Congress or the original National Gallery building. While the Center Cafe doesn't "fit" with the design of the Hall, any further modern modifications should be discouraged. It is just as easy to get to the lower level via staircases and escalators just behind the Grand Hall.
Preservationists Rally Against Plan for “Pit” in Union Station

Memories of Union Station

It is a Saturday sometime in the early 1990s. I am eating lunch at Au Bon Pain in Washington, DC's Union Station. I look up from my book and sandwich to see an elegant, dark-haired woman wearing large sunglasses and walking in my direction. I try not to stare, but there is something faintly familiar about this woman. As she passes, the recognition crystallizes. It is Jacqueline Kennedy Onassis. I manage to stifle any outburst at seeing, in person, one of the most famous women of the 20th Century. The most striking thing is that she is alone; no escort, no Secret Service detail. She passes and is gone. I revel in one of those moments that occurs when one lives in a place like Washington. I finish my sandwich and decide that it wouldn't hurt to get just one more glimpse of her. I figure she is at Union Station to take a train back to New York, so I quickly, but non-chalantly, make a tour of the waiting area. There is no sign of her. Oh, well. My next stop of the day is Georgetown to see a movie, and I decide to treat myself to a cab ride instead of taking the Metro. I make my way through the great hall and out to the taxi stand. As I get in line, there, standing right in front of me, is not only Mrs. Kennedy but John and Caroline. Again, I make an attempt to stifle any outburst or personal engagement. Unfortunately, those around me don't work quite as hard. Pictures are taken. Greetings are made. One woman asks, "Are you Mrs. Kennedy?" If they are at all bothered by the attention, they don't show it. They are polite to the gawkers and picture takers - regal, almost. I am getting angry for them for the awkwardness, rudeness and intrusion. In a matter of minutes, they are in their cab and off.

That is probably my best memory of time spent at Union Station. There are many others, including after work drinks at Fat Tuesday's (They served a kind of Slurpee for adults!), lunches with co-workers down in the food court, dinners at Uno's, shopping at Brookstone's, and my own mini-film festivals at the AMC theatre. The old adage goes, "You can never go back." That is true, but the memories of some very special times will stay with me forever.

On a recent trip back to the area, I got a chance to revisit Union Station. It had been 15 years since I had seen her. She has held up well. I wanted everything to be exactly the same as I had left it back in 1995. I wanted to see my friends waiting for me. But while much was the same - the Grand Hall, Uno's, the Rice Bowl, the Indian food place where I first fell in love with pakoras, samosas and curry, much had changed. The AMC theatre where I saw numerous movies (I still have all of the ticket stubs), like Steel Magnolias, Schindler's List and Dead Poet's Society is now boarded up. Fat Tuesday's has been replaced by a diner. The Greek food vendor and the place that made the best fish sandwich are gone.

It was great to see the grand place one more time. Hopefully, it won't be another 15 years before my next visit.

Dashboard Cam: Gatlinburg Tunnel Honking

This tunnel is on the spur between Gatlinburg and Pigeon Forge, TN. I have driven through it several times and always there was someone who starting honking their car horn. Others would join in. Why? I'm not sure. I've read it is good luck. Other opinions say it's dangerous and annoying. I just thought it was funny!