Jefferson's Monticello

Monticello

Wed. May 16, 2007- Jekyl Island, Georgia

We arose early, at 6 A.M., packed our bags, loaded the car and set off with the misty damp of a rising day. Rte. #17 took us to Rte, #95 North and into the ever waiting arms of the “highway culture.” It is a collective term for the notion of “gas em up,” “feed em up” and then “ticket them when they leave your jurisdiction. “ There is an entire culture, bred along America’s highways, dedicated to the care and feeding of its travelers, much like those in medieval times. The cynics claim that the cops wait until you have spent your money, and are leaving their jurisdiction, before they ticket you. But, I digress.

Rolling through the Carolina’s, on a bright Spring morning, is a visual pleasure. You can smell the pungent pine sap, in the air, from the surrounding forests. The burnt red soil is an attractive visual counterpoint. We kept our speed within legal limits, mindful of the “ticket em while leaving” philosophy. We passed no less than twelve state troopers in these two states. Each was citing some luckless mortorist for violations. The scene reminded me of a pack of wolves, singling out victims one at a time, then casually feeding on them.

Just South of Richmond, Virginia, we picked up Rte. # 288 North and connected with that estimable, elevated Highway Rte. # 64 West. It had once been the main artery from the coastal colonies. It ran across the mountains and into the interior of Tennessee, in an infant republic. The heavens opened as we neared Charlottesville, Va. A belly washer slowed traffic to a crawl. Temperatures had dropped, from 83 degrees to 67 in a matter of minutes, in the dampened cool of rain washed air. Without further incident, we made it into Charlottesville and found a Comfort Inn just off exit #164. We had covered 640 miles in ten hours. We were “ goofy with fatigue” as the saying goes. The room was neat and clean. At $109 per night, it was a bargain. A “martoonie” took the edge off my fatigue. We ordered Chinese food, from a nearby restaurant. It was delivered within the hour.After dinner, we read our books for a time and then settled in, to sleep like dead logs in a swamp.

Thurs. May 17th, 2007- Charlottesville, Va.

We were up by 6:30 A.M. It was cloudy and cool out at 58 degrees. We had coffee in the room, while watching the t.v. news, then showered and prepped for the day. Breakfast was provided in the lobby. We sat with an eclectic variety of fellow travelers, interested as always in the accents and provenance of those around us.

Rte. #64 West took us to Thomas Jefferson Way and the Monticello visitor’s center. We purchased “Presidents passes” for $27 each. They allowed one entrance into Jefferson’s home at Monticello, historic Michie’s tavern and “Ashlawn,” James Monroe’s plantation home.

We drove the few miles over towards Monticello. It sits high on a hill top. We followed the winding roads upward, mindful of how difficult this must have been for horse drawn traffic. The parking lots are large and accommodate large throngs of visitors. Several school buses had already arrived, with their boisterous occupants. It might be a good idea to arrive promptly at 8 A.M. to avoid the crowds. We caught a small shuttle that deposited us in front of the fabled red brick structure. The passes are timed for admittance, one group every half hour. We joined a small tour group for the narrated tour.

Monticello is a single story, red brick affair. The center section sports the wooden, white colored dome, so recognizable in pictures. The main section of the home is flanked by two raised, wooden walkways. They extend out in a symmetric “U” shape. At the end, of each extended arm, sits a small red brick structure. The estate is well treed and eye appealing. At the rear of the estate lies a huge floral gardens, sporting seasonal flora. Just off from the estate are the remains of the “slave quarters” and work shops, where the business of the self-sustaining plantation was carried out. At the rear of the home, and in the basement, Jefferson had built a huge kitchen and many store rooms. This was unusual for its time. Most home owners feared fire from the cook stoves, that could burn down a residence in short order. Now, various kitchen implements lay as if just used, fodder for guided narrative tours. Like everyone else, we wandered the estate admiring the historic fare. Jefferson's family grave site lies about 1/2 mile walk into the woods, at a fenced sight, now well maintained. Even now, his descendants are still laid to rest in the coveted plots. I don’t think Sally Hemmings kin made it into the cemetery.

Monticello had been built on 5,000 acres of land, granted to Jefferson’s father, by the English Crown, for surveying work performed in the colonies. We walked through his voluminous library and living rooms, admiring the late 18th century furniture and the aura of History around us. You can almost catch the visual whisper, from the corner of your eye, of the many historic figures who must have taken their ease here at Monticello. Jefferson had lived a lavish life style and died deep in debt. The estate had been rescued, in the mid nineteenth century, by a Richmond businessman, who refurbished the main home. He later willed it to the state of Virginia as a museum.

After and hour or so, we saddled up and drove through the winding hills, for five miles, to the small and attractive plantation home of James Monroe, our country’s fifth president. “ Ashlawn” is a two-story, clap board sided colonial. It also features “Jefferson’s kitchens” underneath and in the rear of the home. Small, wooden outbuilding served as the work rooms for the slave population. A docent led us on a guided tour of the small but warm and cozy home. Madison’s furniture and possessions linked him firmly with members of French Royal family, who were family friends. The house is warm and livable, bespeaking of a stature much less grandiose than Monticello. Docents, in period costumes, gave narrated performances about the various functions of the servants in the house. Ashlawn is small, attractive and worth a quick visit.

From Ashlawn, we drove several miles back through the hills, to another historic remnant, that of “Michie’s Tavern.” It is a large, two-story affair that sits astride a small hillock, along the rural lane. First built in Charlottesville in 1784, by an Immigrant Scotsman, it was later moved to this current spot. It is one of the oldest functioning taverns in the United States. Several of us were led on a guided tour of the small tavern. Meeting rooms, a large hearth, where most of the guests slept ,and all of the accompanying pioneer implements and armaments, are all interesting. The second floor of the Tavern held a large suite of rooms, available for the wealthy, and a smaller bed room available for female travelers. They all slept at least two to a bed. We sampled the apple cider in the bar and enjoyed the conversation with the guide. She played an Irish tune on a tape. I recognized it as theme of the N.Y. 69th Irish Regiment in the civil war, the “Garry Owen.” The civil war still lives much in the minds of the folks here abouts. But, the rancor is much less evident here than in Georgia.

The main dining room of the Tavern was serving a huge buffet lunch. It featured traditional colonial fare, in the form of chicken and “fried everything else,” finished off with a slice of apple pie. Vegetarians are not known here both then and now, so we headed on down the road. We found a nearby Starbucks and stopped in for scones and some of their estimable nectar. It was 64 degrees, cloudy and cool out. We were tiring from our tours and stopped back at the motel for an hour’s conversation with Ozzie Nelson. (nap)

Later in the afternoon, we followed Rte.#250 into the historic district of Charlottesville. The streets are narrow here and traffic is heavy. We parked in a lot. We then walked a few blocks over to the six-block long pedestrian mall that makes up much of downtown Charlottesville. We strolled by the shops, enjoying the ebb and flow of people, walking here and there. Small children noisily abounded. They appeared to us as oddities, after spending six months in an aging Florida. We walked one block over to the historic Courthouse Square. The court house is Grecian Classic in style and visually appealing. The surrounding buildings, many now law offices, are built in that charming, red-brick colonial style, much abundant in Georgetown and Philadelphia. An outsized statue, of a mounted Confederate General Thomas ”Stonewall” Jackson, sits prominently in the square. Two blocks over, a mounted Confederate General Robert E. Lee also perpetually watches over the area, from his impressive stone horse. The Confederacy rides high and well in these parts.

We again walked through the pedestrian mall, enjoying the sights and sounds of a burgeoning Spring evening in Charlottesville. College students drifted by on various errands.The University of Virginia is located here. At the end of the mall sits an enclosed ice rink. Small hockey players were even now practicing their skills on the rink. The outside cafe’s were filling up with afterwork commandos. In the middle of the Mall, we came upon “Sal’s Italian Cafe.” Red checkered table cloths, and a comfortable ambiance, drew us in. We opted for a table in their outside patio, covered with a vined bower. A glass of cabernet relaxed us. I had an wonderful fruiti di mari and Mary, a pasta primavera in blush sauce. Both were excellent. They have come a long way, in the South, from the days when Italian food meant getting egg noodles and ketchup. We much enjoyed the meal. The day was getting old and we were tiring. We retrieved “le voiture” and drove back to our room. We settled in with books and let the sand man claim us. It had been a enjoyable visit, to the historic hill country, of South Central Virginia.

Friday, May 18, 2007- Charlottesville, Virginia

We were up early again at 6:30 A.M. We repeated yesterday’s ritual and then checked out of the Inn. We set off across Rte. # 64, in the light mist of a morning rain. We were driving 60 miles westward, to the hilly confluence of Rtes. # 81 and #64 at Staunton Virginia. It is here that American President Woodrow Wilson had been born and lived for a few years as a small boy. He is the fifth Virginian to occupy that lofty office.

The town of Staunton is architecturally attractive, with large, 19th-century homes well preserved along its hilly streets. We circled the area and found the Wilson home and museum atop a small hillock, next to a large woman’s seminary and school. The three-story home is a Manse for the nearby Episcopal church. Wilson’s father ahd been an Episcopalian Minister. He had served as a Confederate Chaplain in the U.S. Civil War. A small parking area bespoke of a lesser traffic flow than the other two nearby presidential retreats. For $8 each, we joined a guided tour. The home is of solid oak, pine and maple construction. It is unremarkable except for its solidity. It had none of the ornate and warmer furnishings from an earlier century. The young minister and his family had entertained visitors and led their lives in a subdued and spartan manner, much different from that of the flamboyant Jefferson.

The actual one-story museum lies two houses down the street, draped in red white and blue bunting. We entered and browsed through the small collection, of pictures and memorabilia, enjoying many of the early 20th century mementos. Those exhibits, from the first World War era, were of particular interest. The scholarly Wilson had loomed large on the world’s stage in his day, but is now not very well known by Americans. A large, black Pierce Arrow motor car, that Wilson had used while President, sits in the museum for all the curious to admire. A brief stop here will suffice.

We then followed the elevated expanse, of Rte. #81 North, through the beautiful Shenandoah Valley. The well ordered and rural farmlands here are visually appealing. Union and Confederate Cavalry units had chased each other up and down the valley for much of that long ago war. The falling rain highlighted the beauty of the emerald green fields around us. It is eye candy and interesting. We were headed North for Altoona , Pa. and a brief visit with my Niece and her family. It had been a long route home from Ft. Myers, Fl. The journey was interesting, but we were tiring with the drive and ready now for the ever so humble precincts of our home.

Joseph Xavier Martin

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