Meet Virginia - Day Five

I woke up today praying that I wouldn't be too congested to fly. At this point, I was feeling so lousy that all I could think about was getting home to my own bed, and I didn't want to have to worry about bursting an eardrum to do so. Lucky for me (at least under the circumstances), my nose was too busy dripping constantly like a faucet to head into the congestion phase of a cold, and I deemed myself ready to fly, though likely to infect anyone in my path.

Due to some careful map reading on my part, I had ascertained that our path back to Richmond by way of Monticello, would take us right through the town of Lexington, Virginia, which just so happens to be the burial place of both Stonewall Jackson and Robert E. Lee. Though I easily could have kept this information to myself and saved myself more tromping through the endless rain in my condition, I decided to be a good daughter and tell Dad about my discovery so that we could dutifully stop and pay homage to his heroes. 

Though Dad was unnerved to be driving through the mountains in the rain, we easily found ourselves in Lexington, where we located the dignified monument dedicated to Stonewall Jackson. Though I abhor the Confederate cause, you really can't deny that the man was a military genius. It's just too bad that he wasn't fighting for the Union side -- the war probably would have been much shorter.

Next on our Lexington agenda was a trip to Washington and Lee University, where Robert E. Lee, his family, and even his horse were interred in the chapel. Lee had accepted the presidency of the university after the war to continue his work in education (he had previously taught at West Point), and because his wife's family were kin to the Washingtons, and he admired George Washington greatly. Similar to Jackson, Lee was undoubtedly a master military strategist. If he had been given greater resources, there might actually be two countries inhabiting the territorial space of the United States today.

Though the rain was relentless, we pressed onward to see Monticello, the home of Thomas Jefferson. We didn't have much time, because we wanted to be back in Richmond with plenty of time to catch our flight, but we figured it was unlikely that we'd be in this part of the country again, so we wanted to try to see as much as we could. The booking agent at the visitor's center seemed skeptical of our plan, but she sold tickets for the next available tour nonetheless.

As we waited for the bus to take us to the main house, it truly began to pour in earnest. It was hard to appreciate the house from the outside, because we were too busy seeking shelter from the weather. Given that the primary draw of Monticello is to admire Jefferson's architectural daring and innovation, the weather was a disappointment, to be sure.

The tour was supposed to only take an hour, but as our guide prattled on endlessly and employed the Socratic method to draw out guesses from the audience about the contents of the house rather than sharing her information with the crowd, the hour stretched on and on. Finally, we had to separate from the group and make a run back to the bus for the visitor's center, or we would have been there all day. Due to the weather, we also missed out on seeing the Jefferson family burial plot, and the slaves' quarters. While the house itself was interesting, I think we really didn't get the most out of our experience at Monticello.

Now starving, we opted to grab lunch at Michie Tavern, a historic roadside tavern near Monticello, which the booking agent at the visitor's center had assured us was an experience not to be missed. She had spoken highly of the authentic food served there, but she must have meant authentic southern-style comfort food, because I doubt very much that they served fried chicken, black eyed peas, mashed potatoes, and collard greens on a regular basis during Thomas Jefferson's time. Though it was quaint that the waitresses wore period clothing, and it was nice that the buffet was all-you-can-eat, I felt that we got a bit of a bum steer with that recommendation.

As we neared Richmond, the skies turned ever darker, and the storm got progressively worse. We were early for our flight, which we quickly discovered had been delayed by the storm. Since it was the last flight to Chicago of the day, I was concerned that it might get cancelled all together. Feeling as crappy as I did, I wanted nothing more than to make it home tonight. On a whim, I asked the woman checking our baggage if it would be possible to be moved onto an earlier flight to Chicago, one that was scheduled to leave about thirty minutes from when we arrived at the airport. She did some lightning computer work, and we soon found ourselves running through the airport to make an earlier flight. 

By the time we got to the gate, we found that the earlier flight had been delayed as well, but at least it was still scheduled to leave. Eventually, we made it out of Richmond still a little bit earlier than we had originally planned, and I was joyfully reunited not only with Justin, but with my own bed and a medicine cabinet full of cold medicine. 

The jury is still out, I think, on whether this trip was worthwhile for me. I did get to see the Greenbrier and its fallout shelter. Even if it wasn't as well-preserved as I would have liked, it was an experience I'll remember all of my life. For the privilege of seeing it, however, I had to see a lot of not especially interesting (at least for me) Civil War sites. I'm happy to have helped Dad cross all those battlefields off his bucket list, and I'm grateful that his largesse allowed me to see the Greenbrier, but the balance of the sightseeing for his trip was undeniably skewed in his favor. And then I got sick, and nobody wants to be sick on vacation.

Perhaps when the memory of this illness has faded, I'll reflect different on this trip, but for now, I'm just happy to be home...

Meet Virgina - Day Three

In a nod to my interests, we ended our time in Richmond this morning with a tour of Hollywood Cemetery, a place that had initially come to my attention due to an engraving in our hotel bathroom entitled, "A View from Hollywood," which does indeed possess an enviable view of the city. The hotel's driver had recommended it to us the day before when he drove us to the Museum of the Confederacy because the weather had been so fine yesterday (we took advantage of the hotel's complimentary driver service for that particular jaunt because we weren't sure what the parking situation would be near the museum.)

It wasn't difficult to persuade Dad to go, considering the prestigious cemetery is considered to be the "Arlington of the South," and features the burial plots of two U.S. presidents (James Monroe and John Tyler), the only Confederate president, Jefferson Davis, and the notable Confederate generals J.E.B. Stuart and George Pickett. Thankfully, the hotel provided us with an excellent map of the premises, otherwise we would have been there for the better part of a day trying to suss out the location of the various significant tombs.

There was an interesting pyramidal monument to the Confederate dead, which was surprising in its scale, if not its elegance. Considering the South were not the victors in the war, I actually found it appropriate that their memorial was on the humble and uncomplicated side.

Naturally, the omnipresent Daughters of the Confederacy had a monument of their own, though it bothered me a lot more. The implications behind their inscription seems to be that the South lost due to a quirk of fate, bad luck, if you will, and not because their cause was not just. Plus, in my mind, the soldiers of the Confederacy did not enter a "glorious immortality;" they were fighting to protect a morally reprehensible economic model, in addition to threatening the sovereignty of the United States. It is sad that so many people lost their lives in the name of that cause, but I'm not sure that they deserve to be celebrated for it.

Monroe and Tyler were buried in the "President's Circle," by far, the most elegant section of the cemetery. Monroe's mausoleum was my favorite, with graceful, Flamboyant Gothic lines and a striking black finish. It looked more like an architectural flourish on a French cathedral than any tomb I've ever seen.

Jefferson Davis, it turns out, suffers the eternal indignity of being buried across from a gentleman named Grant, though he is apparently of no relation to the Union general. One would think that the cemetery establishment would have prevented that from occurring, given how sensitive southerners are towards protecting their "glorious" heritage.

With our tour of Hollywood complete, we left Richmond and headed south, toward Petersburg. Dad was keen on seeing the site of the Battle of the Crater, a particularly bloody moment in American history. Intent on breaking the siege of Petersburg, an important railway depot in supplying the Confederate forces, and the last line of defense standing between the Union and the conquest of Richmond, Union soldiers with mining expertise dug a tunnel under the Confederate fortifications, filled it with explosives, and blew and enormous hole in their defenses. The idea had been that the Union would charge into the gap, and take Petersburg while the Confederates reeled in shock.

What happened, however, was that the Union soldiers themselves were so stunned by the magnitude of the explosion, and under such poor leadership, that they marched straight into the massive crater that was formed by the explosion instead of around it. The steep banks of the crater trapped them, where the Confederates, who now had the high ground, were able to slaughter the trapped men.

Though there was a great interpretive trail at the site, and plenty of natural beauty to behold, we found ourselves unimpressed by the remnants of the actual crater. Apparently, many of the Union dead were buried directly in the crater, by covering the corpses with dirt. The hole was further filled in during the 1920s, when the land served as a golf course. Now, there is a moderate depression at the site, which doesn't really give visitors a feel for the plight of the Union soldiers who were trapped there. 

Slightly disappointed, we headed west towards Appomattox, where we found ourselves on a seemingly endless stretch of road with little in the way of provisions, either gas or food. We finally found a gas station and were able to fuel up, but we had to drive far off the beaten path to locate a McDonald's for lunch, such were the food options along that particular stretch of highway.

In Appomattox, we visited the brand new branch of the Museum of the Confederacy, which was much better than the original back in Richmond. Frankly, they probably could have used the money they spent creating a whole new museum at Appomattox to spruce up their flagship space, but it was nice to see that they were at least cognizant of the latest trends in museum presentation. Almost every display was interactive in some way, and the rooms were full of audio-visual presentations. The objects were given more space, so they could be appropriately appreciated, and even I was excited to see the uniform worn by Lee at the surrender, as well as the pen he used to sign the agreement.

We made one last stop before continuing on our way to the Greenbrier, at Appomattox Courthouse, the historic village maintained by the National Park Service, where Grant actually accepted Lee's surrender. There, I learned that the surrender did not actually occur at the courthouse, but at a private home, which was disassembled and moved to the Smithsonian for preservation. Eventually, since the Smithsonian didn't have room to display it, they returned it to Appomattox Courthouse and restored the building, which you can visit today. The house itself wasn't particularly impressive, but it was cool to stand in a spot where history was made.

With the sun threatening to dip below the horizon, we wrapped up our tour of Appomattox and got back on the road, this time winding our way through the Allegheny Mountains, to the Greenbrier. If the sun hadn't been in our eyes the entire time, it probably would have been a breathtaking drive, but it was difficult to appreciate it while being partially blinded.

The Greenbrier was duly impressive once we finally reached it, but we found ourselves flabbergasted when we laid eyes upon the interior. The inside of the building was a riot of colors, patterns, and textures. There was literally nowhere to look where the eye could rest. Giant scale floral prints met and clashed with damasks and oriental details. It looked like a southern woman got drunk on mint juleps, passed out, hallucinated a garden party, and decided to use it as decorating inspiration. The guest rooms weren't any better, and they seemed rather old and tired. Considering the expense of staying there, I was expecting something more luxurious.

Without a dinner reservation for one of the resort's restaurants, we were relegated to eating at the family-friendly cafe overlooking the casino, where we had a spectacularly underwhelming meal. I ended up with a lame ham sandwich with some sad, soggy sweet potato fries, and the entire meal proved to be ludicrously overpriced given the quality. It was certainly not an auspicious start to our stay at the Greenbrier, and an unfortunate end to a busy day of tourism. Hopefully, tomorrow will prove to be better.

Meet Virginia - Day Two

For our first full day in Virginia, we started off our sightseeing itinerary at the Museum of the Confederacy -- a must-see attraction in Dad's eyes, and an eye-roll inducer for me. I will confess, I had very low expectations for this museum, and I was mentally bracing myself for an uncomfortable experience. I figured I'd be reading a lot about the "War of Northern Aggression" and pathetic justifications of the South's cause as a battle for the preservation of state's rights, not the continuance of slavery as an economic system. Dad, however, was excited to see artifacts that had belonged to Robert E. Lee, Stonewall Jackson, and some of the other military leaders he admires, so I sucked it up.

Having arrived early, we snagged a spot on the first tour of the day of the adjacent Confederate White House, the home where Jefferson Davis and his family lived when he was president of the Confederacy. It was pretty standard as far as historic house tours go, one exception being the ridiculously thick Southern accent of our tour guide. It was so impossible to decipher that I found myself tuning him out for large swaths of time, though I did manage to pick up a few interesting tidbits. A bust of Davis, for instance, was smuggled out of the house after the end of the war and buried in the yard of a Confederate sympathizer, who wished to protect it from marauding Yankees. He dug it up and donated it to the museum when the Daughters of the Confederacy came looking for pieces to restore the house.

The porch of the Confederate White House.

The Daughters of the Confederacy were largely responsible for assembling the vast collection of the Museum of the Confederacy. An incredibly persistent group of women, they managed to acquire the auction log from when the contents of the Davis house were auctioned after the war, and tracked down every buyer and guilted them into returning their purchases for free, in order to preserve the glorious memory of the Confederacy. While the entire concept of celebrating the Confederacy turns my stomach, you kind of have to admire their chutzpah.

A recreation of Robert E. Lee's field headquarters.

While they were able to amass a truly enormous collection of uniforms, weapons, and other artifacts, I was further put off by the way in which it was displayed. The exhibits seemed to harken back to an earlier time in exhibition design, when more was deemed better, and context and connection to the audience weren't highly valued. The cases were jam packed with objects, often with only a small key available to ascertain what each object was. To me, it almost diminished the items' importance, since they received virtually no individual attention. It also quickly became tedious walking from overstuffed case to overstuffed case, with little interactive activity to enrich the viewing experience. I was honestly happy to leave and move on.

Since we were only a short walk away, we made a brief stop at the Virginia State Capitol, which was oddly reminiscent of the actual White House in Washington D.C., but nonetheless featured some beautiful grounds, including a nice sculpture park. There was an obligatory equestrian statue of George Washington, who is revered here not only as the father of our country, but as a son of Virginia, as well as a moving statue commemorating the civil rights struggle for equal schooling in the state.

From there, we hopped in the car and headed north toward Fredericksburg, site of a devastating battle in which the Union forces were decimated by the Confederates. On the way, however, Dad wanted to stop at the Stonewall Jackson Shrine, a miniscule national park surrounding the plantation office building where the great Confederate general drew his last breath after being accidentally shot by his own men. The original plantation house is long gone, but the modest out building where Jackson died has been preserved.

The Stonewall Jackson Shrine, in Guinea Station.

There is a modest interpretive site near the structure where you can listen to a recording about Jackson's last days, but the National Park Service employee who is stationed at the house tells a much more compelling, and emotionally resonant version of the tale. It added a much-needed human element to his story, one that make the journey there more worthwhile than it would have been otherwise.

Next on the agenda was Fredericksburg itself, where we encountered some confusion with the GPS, which took us to a historic plantation house instead of the actual battlefield site, since both were part of the same National Park Service operation. We eventually got ourselves sorted out, and Dad found himself fascinated by the landscape there. Viewing it with his own eyes, he proclaimed the Union position to be impossible, and declared that General Burnside should have been court-marshaled for ordering his men to attack the impenetrable Confederate stronghold.

Not knowing anything about the Battle of Fredericksburg myself, I was mostly interested in the terraces that had been cut into the imposing hillside to accommodate a cemetery for the dead of both sides. It was a sobering sight to behold, and to consider the huge numbers of Americans who gave up their lives that day.

We also took a nice walk around the park, albeit an abbreviated one, since Dad is still suffering from a foot fracture he incurred months ago during a trip to Las Vegas. Dad was able to envision what it was like to be a Confederate soldier with a highly defensible position in the so-called "sunken road," hidden behind a stone wall, able to pick off the charging Union soldiers with ease. For him, at least, this leg of the trip had absolutely been worth the voyage.

Nearby was the site of the Battle of Spotsylvania, a skirmish that I had actually heard of, though it was really only memorable to me because of its silly name, rather than the particulars of the engagement. However, Dad opted to skip it in favor of the Battle of Chancellorsville, where Stonewall Jackson was fatally wounded by his own troops. Given his admiration for Jackson (Dad has a statue of him sitting on his desk back home), I can see why he was drawn to Chancellorsville, but the battlefield site wasn't especially interesting. The main item of note there was the film at the visitor's center, which shed more light on the events that transpired there than the actual landscape.

By the time we were finished there, we were quickly running out of daylight, and the locations operated by the National Park Service would soon be closing for the day. Dad had had about as much walking for one day as he could handle anyway, and I had long since reached my tolerance for Civil War tourism, so we opted to head back to Richmond, where we had an average, if passable dinner at Bistro 27, a vaguely Italian restaurant near our hotel.

Tomorrow, we'll leave Richmond, but we'll continue our battlefield-heavy itinerary as we head west, towards the Greenbrier...

Meet Virginia - Day One

Despite being broke, whenever I get an email from Groupon or LivingSocial advertising their vacation deals, I feel compelled to take a peak. Though they often feature offers for places I have no desire to see, or properties that are of questionable quality, they still provide a tantalizing opportunity to daydream about the places to which I could be traveling if my life circumstances were different.

I was doing just that back in July, when I spotted a photo of a resort that looked vaguely familiar. Clicking on it for more information didn't jog my memory much, but when I googled the property, it all came flooding back to me: the resort was the Greenbrier, and I had seen it ages ago on television, either on the History Channel or the Travel Channel. It captured my attention because it just happened to be home to a massive Cold War era fallout shelter, constructed by the U.S. government to shelter the members of Congress and the Senate in the event of nuclear war. As soon as I saw it, I vowed to see it one day, in light of my academic interest in that period of history. Given how expensive it was to stay at the resort, and the fact that it was inconveniently located in West Virginia (the government needed a remote site that was protected by the neighboring mountains), I figured it would be a long time before I ever made it there.

The LivingSocial deal would make the Greenbrier more within the realm of affordability, but not quite cheap enough for my budget. I knew I'd have to convince my parents to make the trip with me, so I could see the Greenbrier on someone else's dime. At first, I approached Mom, hoping that her interest in genealogy would have unearthed some distant relatives with graves she might be interested in visiting in the area. No such luck on that front, so I moved on to Dad, hoping that the Greenbrier's vague proximity to Appomattox, the site of Lee's surrender to Grant at the end of the Civil War, would spark his interest. 

Thankfully, Dad was intrigued, but he was interested in seeing a lot more than Appomattox. In the process of planning the trip, my mission to see the Greenbrier's bomb shelter turned into a pilgrimage across Virginia and West Virginia, starting in Richmond and heading west, in which we would visit the sites of numerous Civil War battlefields, as well as the capital of the Confederacy. I wasn't so keen on all the Civil War stuff, but I was willing to keep him company in the interest of scratching the Greenbrier off my bucket list.

This is how I found myself in Richmond this evening, a city I never expected I'd see, nor did I have any particular desire to experience. Our flight ended up being much delayed, and we arrived in town just shortly before dinner time, so we checked into our, admittedly, very swanky accomodations at the Jefferson Hotel. In operation since 1895, the Jefferson had all the grandeur and opulence of a European grand hotel, though from the outside, it looked rather more like a cathedral.

The Jefferson.

It featured multiple lobbies on multiple floors, each more grandiose than the last. My favorite featured a lovely stained glass dome. For my part, however, I was mostly just pleased that the hotel took its name from U.S. President Thomas Jefferson, and that it was his statue in the lobby, not Confederate President Jefferson Davis, who remains a celebrated figure in this town. 

Stained glass in the lobby of the Jefferson.

The concierge recommended a nearby restaurant where we could obtain some authentic Southern-style food for dinner, appropriately named Comfort. Dad was not at all pleased that they didn't take reservations and we had to spend time waiting in the bar, but the bartender was a personable chap and he and I had a nice conversation about the Greenbrier, and its secret Cold War past.

Richmond doesn't have a lot going for it architecturally speaking. The best thing it has going for it, in my opinion, is a preponderance of ghost signs.

I genuinely enjoyed my shrimp and grits (so much so, that it will be a challenge not to eat them at every meal on this trip), and my fried catfish, though Dad didn't seem to appreciate the hipster vibe put forth by the atmosphere and the wait staff. It really wasn't his kind of place, and if we'd been in Chicago, and not on vacation, I don't think I would have been able to drag him there in a million years. Still, I'm glad that he humored me. 

Even if the next couple days in Richmond don't hold a lot of excitement for me personally, I'm still looking forward to seeing what the next few days will hold. Maybe I'll be surprised...