Assasination Vacation in D.C.
I'm off to D.C. for the weekend to visit D.J. Bryan and Mark G. I plan to see Washington's teeth at the Smithsonian, and swing by the Portrait gallery, amongst other antics. I'll let you know how it all goes. In the meantime, here's an oldie but goodie: a post I wrote in 2005 on the occasion of my last D.C. visit.
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Last weekend I went to visit friends in DC. Thursday and Friday, while they were at work, I took a little time to get acquainted with our nation’s history.
I love visiting DC, this is actually my third visit there. On my agenda this time was a little trip down presidential assassination memory lane. I headed to Ford’s theater.
Ford’s Theater, where Lincoln was assassinated, is naturally located next to the Hard Rock Cafeé DC. It was, of course, the Hard Rock Café of the 1900s. I will be sporting my "Ford’s Theater DC" shirt for years to come. (Not true)
The Theater was staffed by 4 park rangers, who because the air conditioning was out could not be troubled to give the "special presentations" that day. Three rotund, middle aged Rangers staffed the ticket booth with their ASSES, while one exceptionally delicious, twenty-something, slight nerdy, and very attractive ranger was in the actual theater answering questions. I decided to tap that later, and headed downstairs to the Lincoln museum.
I’m not usually in to staring at things in glass cases, but having just done some reading behind the assassination, I was pretty psyched about the whole thing, and especially pumped about the Lincoln conspirators. For whatever reason, the men that plotted to assassinate Lincoln were major hotties.
John Wilkes Booth was one of the most famous actors of his day, possible only rivaled by his brother, Edwin. He was also a major playah: when John was arrested, he was found with the photos of five different women on his person. Four were actresses he knew (casual hook ups), the fifth was his secret fiancee. Her father was a retired senator and abolitionist trying to move to France to get his daughter away from Boothe.
People boned in the 19th century.
Hotter still was Lewis Powell
He's like the fucking poster child for conspiracy. I had seen his photo before in some of my photo history classes, and had only known him as "Lincoln Conspirator." The image is so striking because HE is so modern, so captivating. The image is post arrest–he would be hung for his crimes shortly after.
Here’s the lowdown–the plan was not just to kill Lincoln, but the Vice President and the Secretary of State as well. Powell’s job was to assassinate SoS Seward. Long story short he shows up at Seward’s house (Seward is sick in bed), end up stabbing to death both Seward and Seward’s son in front of his wife and daughter. Granted they don’t die of their wounds right away, but in a time of medicine without germ theory, they don’t recover. Oh, and the ladies die of shock. What a hideously violent crime for us all!
At this point the museum became overrun with boyscouts, up from the Jamboree. "Thanks for ruining my reverent fucking museum" I think. "Thanks for ruining history, boyscouts!"
These are casts on Lincoln’s hands and face. The hands were taken just after his first election. The right is slightly swollen, due to all the congratulatory handshaking he did.
The most visceral object in the museum was the frock coat that Lincoln wore the night he was assassinate. Not only was this Lincoln’s coat, but about ten years later souvenir hunters had gotten ahold of it, and ripped off the sleeve, selling slices of it that were stained with Lincoln’s blood . I stopped and stared at this. The boyscouts came with me. I cried over a man who died 140 years ago. So did the boy scouts. Good thing I took this INCREDIBLY BLURRY PHOTO OF IT ALL.
I went upstairs to the theater for a few moments of quiet reflection. The interior of the theater is actually a reconstruction–it collapsed in the 1890s. But like a lot of historical sites, it still occupies the same ghostly space that JWB shot and killed our president, lept from the balcony, and shouted "Sic Temper Tyrannus" before making his escape on a broken leg.
The play, "Our American Cousin," has not been performed in the theater since (I asked), which makes me wonder if this theater has ever seen the end of the show. JWB, knowing the play by heart, shot Lincoln on a laugh line.
Whenever I think about American politics, I just remember that things have really been on the up and up since the Civil War.
And man, was that park ranger hot. Hotter than John Wilkes Booth, but not as hot as Lewis Powell.
P.S. The house where Lincoln died was closed "due to excessive heat," but the Lincoln Souvenir Outlet was open–thank god!
P.P.S. Due to excessive heat, the majority of the rest of the trip was spent drinking.
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