Mr. Bones Goes to Washington

A Very Unofficial Visit

The Spirit of St. Louis – National Air and Space Museum

Part 3: The Sun Breaks Through

INDEX

Part 1 Walking in Washington

Part 2 Saturday in the Mist

Part 3 The Sun Breaks Through

Part 4 Where the Sidewalk Ends

Part 5 A Morning with Mr. Lincoln

Part 6 Pandas and Pachyderms

It was Sunday morning and I was getting into a rut. An iron gray sky hung low as I once more found myself wandering down to the Capitol Building. The weather was supposed to clear and I'd left my umbrella at the hotel. In celebration, it began to rain. I hurried down to the National Air and Space Museum.

Even for a Smithsonian facility, National Air and Space Museum draws a huge number of visitors. This is not surprising, considering what there is to see. Charles Lindberg's Spirit of St. Louis hangs from the ceiling in the atrium. Behind her is the Glamorous Glennis, first manned aircraft to fly faster than the speed of sound. There's an IMAX theater, the Einstein Planetarium, exhibits on war planes and space flight.
The Glamorous Glennis There are missiles and spy planes and a lunar lander. It's all a bit overwhelming and very impressive. Its companion facility, the Steven F. Udvar-Hazy Center near Washington Dulles International Airport is even bigger.

On the second floor was an excellent exhibit called “The Wright Brothers and the Invention of the Aerial Age”. In the center of the room is their 1903 Flyer, the first airplane in history to fly successfully. It looks about as substantial as a dragonfly wing. You can stand and imagine a blustery December day on a North Carolina beach when a few bystanders shivered in the wind as they watched this gossamer moth made of wood and fabric rise from the ground on its short flights. The world would never be the same.
The Original Wright Flyer

I was in one of the aircraft display areas looking at an early helicopter when a small tour group came by. A very severe and official-looking guide was giving her spiel, mostly to a woman who was quite formally dressed compared to most Mall tourists. I stepped over to get a photo of the helicopter when I found my way blocked by the shoulder of an impeccably dressed man who stepped into my path. He was more or less the size of a small mountain. He said to me politely, “Please step back, sir.” I looked at him and saw an earphone with a small curly wire plugged into his ear. I knew from the movies that this means “Secret Service” and that he probably had an Uzi submachine gun in his pocket. It took me a moment to figure this out, and he repeated “Please step back, sir.” Needless to say, I didn't contest the issue and stepped back. I don't know who the well-dressed woman was, but we as a nation were obviously kissing up. I hope it did us some good.

Hot or Not? The Photographer in Infrared The Air and Space Museum was filling up with tourists and even with so many impressive displays I was reaching the end of my ooh and ahh quotient. I hurried through the space exhibition with its Lunar Lander, which looked about as substantial as a cereal box. There was an interesting display of satellite imagery, complete with a camera showing what one looks like in infrared photography. This could add a  whole new dimension to calling someone “hot stuff”.

The next building down is the Hershhorn Sculpture Garden and Museum of Modern and Contemporary Art. Mist formed droplets on the sculptures and on me. Inside, I rode the escalator up to the second floor where there was an extensive exhibition by Japanese artist Hiroshi Sugimoto. I wandered through it backwards, snapping photographs and thinking that while I know little about old art, I know even less about modern art.
Hirshhorn Sculpture Garden Perhaps I'll educate myself about art someday. As I emerged from the entrance to the Sugimoto gallery I saw a prominent sign that said “No Photography”. Oops.

Outside, the sun was busily burning off the overcast. Everything gleamed. The Washington Monument shown bright white against a sky that was Montana blue. I walked west to the World War II Monument. When it was introduced, there was a lot of controversy about the design and placement of this memorial but I thought it was well done. Like most of the monuments, the great mass of people seemed to see it as just another photo opportunity. A few of the people there were thoughtful and contemplative. I think they're the ones these memorials are really for. World War II--”The Last Good War”, Studs Terkel called it. I'm glad I missed it. In this day of global instability it's sobering to remember that in perspective, what we deal with is very minor compared to what happened in the mid 20th Century.

The Lincoln Memorial Continuing west along the reflecting pool, the Lincoln Memorial looms stately and somber. Up the steps and in the chamber, the crowd pushes to have their pictures snapped standing beside the giant dignified figure of the Great Man. It's all hustle and bustle in a place where it should be quiet and respectful. I didn't stay long.

At the bottom of the steps I turned north. The Viet Nam War Memorial was just a few steps away on my right, and of all the monuments on The Mall it's the most sober. Such a simple design, but I don't think anyone can stand beside the wall and be unaffected. The tapered wall represents a small beginning, years of escalation, then drifts off to nothing again and brings home the futile, empty waste of the whole thing. Names of the dead cover the wall. It's so close to the White House and the Capitol Building, and I wonder if the people who occupy those institutions ever spend time right here at the apex of these walls and consider the lesson to be learned from this bitter debacle: think more than twice before sending people off to die. Some wars must be fought, I accept the fact. But if, like the non-war commemorated by this monument, all we end up with are graveyards of the dead and a handful of air, I don't accept it. Let those smug and powerful people send their children off to war, then I'll know they take it seriously. This, of course, will never happen. I'm not enough of a photographer to capture what needs to be shown here. I didn't even try to take a picture.

Albert Einstein Memorial With a deep sigh I turned my steps to Constitution Avenue and west to 23rd Street. On the northeast corner is the National Academy of Science, and tucked into a little cove of trees is a small monument to Albert Einstein. The statue of Mr. Einstein himself is 12 feet tall. His thoughts, of course, filled the universe.

Going north on 23rd, the street was Sunday-morning quiet. A block up I passed the State Department building. About G Street I hit some barricades. Along the curb for at least two blocks were movable galvanized barricades of the type used for crowd control, the type that look like a steel fence.. The entire sidewalk was fenced off, and inside the barricade were cops in large quantity. They were obviously relaxed, there for prevention and not some immediate threat. I was soon on the grounds of George Washington University and the barricades continued for several blocks before turning a corner. I went straight. At Pennsylvania Avenue I turned right and was once again walking toward the White House. In a little way I ran into the barricades again with even more police inside them, who were talking and laughing. The building behind them said International Monetary Fund so I guess something big was happening, or going to happen. I wanted a picture but didn't think it was a good idea to be seen photographing the security arrangements.

Instead I angled once more back to the National Building Museum so I could bid my Latvian friends goodbye. They were having another good day but looking forward to packing up and going home. Having exhibited at hundreds of craft shows myself, I knew exactly how they felt.

No Parking On my way back to the hotel I walked past a big building that had the sign United States Tax Court. I wondered if they, like many of the Washington buildings, have a museum with memorabilia. I resisted the temptation to go peer in the window.

Back in the room I kicked off my shoes, put my feet up and took out my notes. I had an expedition planned for the evening, trying to locate what I'd heard was the best pizza in Washington. The question was whether to walk or ride the Metro. Studying the map, I estimated that it was about five miles. Maybe six. My feet were tired but not sore and I considered which way of transport would be the most adventurous. Walking, obviously. That decided, I leaned back in the chair for a little nap.

Next: Where the Sidewalk Ends

The Washington Monument

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