A Tour of the White House - First Floor

East RoomWhen I left you the other day, we had entered the Residence and were ascending the staircase to the First Floor, which is where most of the rooms you'll recognize are. We go up, take a right, and start in the largest room in the White House, the East Room. This is where Abigail Adams famously hung her laundry (and may still be there). It's where President Lincoln and President Kennedy laid in state after their assassinations, and you may recognize it as the site of Presidential press conferences, a tradition instituted in this room by President Reagan. Originally called the Public Audience Room, it was felt that this was too imperial a title for a young Republic, and the moniker East Room stuck. Perhaps best known of all the artifacts in the White House, the Gilbert Stuart portrait of George Washington that was saved by Dolly Madison hangs here, along with a more recent portrait of his wife. And, just to help debunk persistent and stupid urban legends, yes, the White House nativity was prominently on display.

From here, we passed in quick succession through the creatively-named Green, Blue, and Red Rooms. Green RoomThe Green Room, first referred to as such by President John Quincy Adams, was probably originally named for the green felt-covered game tables, and not the green silk wallpaper, which came much later. President Madison declared war on the British in this room, and President Lincoln's son Willie was laid out here following his death at 11 from typhoid fever. The Blue Room is the site for the "official" White House Christmas Tree (not to be confused with either the National Christmas Tree or the Capitol Christmas Tree). As is traditional, the tree reflects a theme chosen by the First Lady, in this case "Reflect, Rejoice, and Renew". Utilizing ornaments from previous Christmas's, the White House asked various community organizations to decorate them and pay tribute to a local monument. I'm afraid I couldn't get a comprehensive look before I moved on, but feel free to check out my flickr site if you want to see what I did get pics of. The last of the colored-themed rooms, the Red Room, was originally used as a breakfast room but is now a reception room.

State Dining RoomNext we move to the west end of the original building and the State Dining Room. Unlike the East Room, it doesn't quite take up the entire depth of the White House, leaving room for the Family Dining Room (not on our tour). The State Dining Room can seat up to 140 guests at a formal function, and has been expanded since the original construction with a removal of a staircase. A portrait of Abraham Lincoln by GeorgeHealy, painted shortly after his death in 1869, dominates the room, but a gingerbread White House added some holiday cheer.

We end up in, finally, in the Cross Hall and Entrance Hall. A slight traffic jam developed just outside the State Dining Room, as all of those damned tourists had to stop and get a picture of the iconic portrait of JFK that hangs just to the right as you enter the Cross Hall (mine is here). Painted by Aarom Shikler, it's pensive stance is designed to reflect the untimely end of President Kennedy's tenure as much as his personality. The Cross Hall is the long, red-carpeted, walk you see the President take on his way to the East Room for his press conferences. Like most guests we exit, ironically enough, through the Entrance Hall, stepping over a plaque commemorating four key years in the White House; the original construction in 1792, the post-fire building in 1817, Teddy Roosevelt's expansion in 1902 and  the Truman rebuilding in 1952.

As we exit towards Pennsylvania Avenue, I hope this little tour helped provide some background of what's behind the facade for the majority of folks who can't get in. And for those who do, I hope it gives you a little heads up on what you'll be seeing.

Ghosts in Navy Blue

After some time collecting stories of ghosts and hauntings in Washington, DC, a few themes start to jump out. Abandoned buildings will inevitably become haunted, often to the point where it becomes difficult to ascertain what happed first, the ghost or the owners moving out. For every good, solid, meaty story where the ghost does something tangible, there's at least a dozen "mysterious thumps in the night". Either ghosts were more active in the late 1800's and early 1900's, or newspapers were simply more amenable to reporting them, often as fact.

But I'm starting to notice that the tale of Washington ghosts overlaps quite heavily with the tales of Naval ghosts. It's entirely possible that as a former Naval Officer myself, I simply take not of them disproportionly. I mean, I love a good sea story as much as a good ghost story, so it's entirely possible that combining the two catches my eye.

Even considering this, I was surprised at how many ghosts in DC have a Navy or Marine Corps connection. In fact, we joked while developing the Capitol Hill loop of our tour that the problem was not finding stories, but finding stories where it wasn't a Marine doing the haunting. Which really shouldn't have caught us by surprise. Until relatively recently, the Navy Yard and it's associated Marine Barracks were the largest employers in town and Capitol Hill, especially the portion south of Pennsylvania Ave, was very much a Navy Town.

But even throughout the city, we stumble across ghosts associated with the sea services with astonishing regularity. The much haunted Halcyon House in Georgetown was built by the first Secretary of the Navy, Benjamin Stoddert. In yesterday's Vampire Story, the Brentwood Mansion was owned by a succession of Naval Officers, presumably when the vampire stalked the grounds. And in 1890, then Secretary of the Navy Benjamin Tracy refused to take head of warnings of a ghost in the house he purchased on Farragut Square not far from the White House. Sadly, the house caught fire and his wife, daughter, and maid were killed in the conflagration, which local lore says liberated the restless ghost.

Being a fan of the limited but fascinating Washington, DC Naval ghost genre, the natural place to search for ghosts is, of course, the Washington Navy Yard in southeast DC. Searchers need not be disappointed, either; it is well haunted. I particularly enjoy the tale of Capt. Thomas Tingey, the first Superintendent of the Navy Yard, who had the distinction of building it twice, the second time being after he ordered it burnt to deny it to the British in 1814. Commodore Tingey remains on watch at the Navy Yard, keeping a eye on things. In addition to his protective spirit assisting at Quarters A, originally his home and now the residence of the Chief of Naval Operations, he has been sighted late at night, inspecting the Yard. He wears the period fore and aft hat, familiar to any fan of pirate movies, and carries a spyglass. His authority is further confirmed by the sword belted to his waist, but somewhat dimmed in that it is belted over his nightshirt.

Fellow fans might enjoy Eric Mills new work, The Spectral Tide: True Ghost Stories of the U.S. Navy, which is an excellent collection of tales, well written and thoroughly researched, two traits often missing in the world of ghost stories. It highlights, among it's many stories, several of the ones listed above, including a great description of the Tracy House fire. I'l leave it to Mr. Mills to tell that one.

Ghosts in Navy Blue

"Oh say, can you see?"

Having finished smacking down the unruly upstarts, the British began the process of withdrawing from Washington, DC, and returning to their ships in the Patuxant River. Had it not been for the incoherent nature of American leadership at that point, the British were horribly overexposed and could have had a difficult time retreating, a thought very much on General Ross's mind. He had been reluctant of the whole venture, and the Naval commander, Admiral Cockburn had to coax him into it. Fortunately for him, he had little to fear.

On the afternoon of the 25th, a fierce summer storm hit Washington, knocking chimneys off roofs and men off horses. Shredding what little remained of discipline in the Americans, it allowed the British to withdraw without incident, despite the several injuries it caused to their own. So quietly was it done, that many American's thought they had snuck away. Presumably, we were just unused to the difference between "professional army" and "traveling circus".

In their wake, the British left behind a shattered city and an outraged country. As Washingtonians struggled to rebuild, the British set their eyes on the early nineteenth Century's version of Somalia: Baltimore. Eager to rid themselves of what they considered a "nest of pirates", the English planned to destroy the port of Baltimore, guarded, of course, by Ft. McHenry. Furious at the destruction of their Capitol, Americans flooded Baltimore to defend her, and under the able leadership of Major General Samuel Smith, were ultimately successful. You know this part of the story, right? Remember "bombs bursting in air" and "rockets red glare"? Yeah, you don't need my help here.

Part of the enduring popularity of the Star Spangled Banner came from this sense, that after being so humiliatingly defeated at Washington, our defense of Ft. McHenry recaptured some of our pride. It was possible for American soldiers, properly led and inspired to stand up to the British Lion and tweak his tail. But, as this is DC, and not Baltimore, Like a Local what do we care? Because, the Star Spangled Banner is here in DC, of course. The centerpiece of the Smithsonian's National Museum of American History; it occupies a new and specially designed gallery directly across the foyer as you come in the Mall Entrance. And, if you catch the timing right, flag creator Mary Pickersgill will take the time to explain how she made it.

But that's all in the future. Back in the summer of 1814, Congress reconvened in Blodgett's Hotel, then the site of the Patent Office. The British had spared it as the head of the Patent Office, Dr. William Thornton, had argued that while the building was public, the patent models inside were private property of the inventors. Impressed with the argument, short of time, and probably just wanting the annoying man to go away, the British spared the building. Congress resisted calls to move the capital elsewhere (New York and Cincinnati were suggested), and rebuilding soon commenced under architect Benjamin Latrobe. Blodgett's Hotel burned many years later (on it's own, without British help) and become the site of the General Post Office, now the Hotel Monaco.

Down Pennsylvania Avenue from the rebuilding Capitol, Jemmy and Dolley were similarly unable to occupy the gutted White House and took up residence in the nearby, and still-standing, Octagon House, also designed by Dr. Thornton. The mansion's owner, Col. John Tayloe (technically his wife), ensured the building's survival by hosting the French Ambassador, thereby making the building, albeit temporarily, a diplomatic residence. It would be in it's study, a year and a half later on February 17th, 1816, that President Madison would sign the Treaty of Ghent, officially ending the increasingly poorly-named War of 1812.

"a most magnificant ruin"

As the British marched down Baldensburg Pike (now US 1) and turned south on North Capitol Street they entered a largely deserted "City" of Washington. Most of it's 8,000 inhabitants had either run off or were in hiding. Except for small scale looting, the British troops were largely unhindered as they went about their tasks by the light of the burning Navy Yard.

Largely, but not entirely, unhindered, that is. As the column of Redcoats approached the Capitol, shots rang out from what is now none as the Sewall-Belmont House (above), on the corner of Maryland Ave, Constitution Ave, and 2nd St NE. Ironically, the target was the British commanders, General Ross and Admiral Cockburn, heading in under a flag of truce to provide a guarantee against the destruction of private property of "all those who remained quiet in their homes". One British soldier was killed, as well as General Ross's horse. The mysterious gunman of the Sewall home most certainly not remaining quiet, the British set fire to the house.

Like so many visitors after them, the British felt that having come so far, it wouldn't be a trip to DC if they didn't see the Capitol. The Capitol Building, not even envisioned as the grand edifice you see today, was at that time two unfinished buildings; a Senate and House chamber connected by a wooden walkway. As difficult as it was to destroy a stone building with an iron clad roof, British soldiers showed considerable ingenuity in attempting to do so, piling up, among other things, the books of the new Library of Congress, to build their fires. Had it not been for a fierce rainstorm, they might have succeeded completely. As it was, it was left as "a most magnificent ruin" in the words of Architect of the Capitol Benjamin Latrobe.

General Ross and Admiral Cockburn sent detachments out to destroy other public buildings and military works, such as the Arsenal at Greenleef's point (now Ft. McNair), the Navy Yard, and, of course, the White House. Ross and Cockburn personally led the detachment to the White House, sitting down at the table that had been set earlier that day when it was still considered doubtful that the British would enter the capital. Toasting the health of "Jemmy" Madison, Admiral Cockburn took as a memento, Dolley Madison's seat cushion, so as to "remember her seat". Once a sailor, always a sailor.

The British officers then ordered the mansion torched and withdrew across the street to a nearby tavern to dine by the light of the burning White House. Following the fire, the fire-weakened east and west walls were taken down to the basement level, as was all but the center section of the north side. Rebuilt to it's original specifications by original architect James Hoban, some of the original ornamentation was re-used, scorch marks and all.

We'll leave you here today, with Washington on fire. Join us tomorrow as we bid our British guests adieu and clean up from the party.

Run for it!

When last we left them, our fearless American's were scampering down the Bladensburg Pike (now US 1) as fast as their little feet could take them. Naturally, upon their arrival in DC, those few residents who hadn't succumbed to full fledged panic felt this was a good moment to begin to do so.

But before we delve deeper into that panic, let's take a minute to discuss why our British friends decided to drop in for tea. Traditionally, in so far as the subject was even taught in school, we learn that the British were admonishing a brash young Republic, letting us know that we'll impress your seaman when and where we see fit and stir up Indians so your bold frontiersmen will live in fear. While not untrue, the full story, is, as is almost always the case, both more complex and more interesting.

It's not my intent to rehash the entire war here, but for a fascinating look at the origins of the war from the other side, take a look here. Specifically, two years into the poorly named War of 1812, the invasion of the mid-Atlantic region had several goals in mind, from diverting the Americans while operations were conducted in the north to attacking targets of opportunity. But in no small way, it was in direct retaliation for our burning of York (now Toronto), the capital of Upper Canada (now Ontario). And this is what I find interesting. As much as our history pits the United States as the underdog against the world-bestriding British Empire, the Canadians view it as standing up to the mighty Americans threating them from the south, perhaps even making them pronounce the letter O.

Anyway, back to Washington, DC. Having initially dismissed an attack on Washington as unlikely, President Madison and several members of the Cabinet were in the unfortunate position of getting personally refuted by Admiral Cockburn and the British. Having poorly prepared to defend the Capital, certainly the Americans were not ready to evacuate it in an orderly fashion.

The most famous tale of the retreat has infused itself so deeply into American History that even school groups that look at me blankly when I mention the War of 1812, respond immediately and enthusiastically when I mention this story. It is, of course, the story of Dolley Madison and the Gilbert Stuart portrait of George Washington. You know the one on the one dollar bill? Anyway, I don't need to recount to the whole story to you (pdf), but suffice it to say, thanks to Dolley, who almost alone seemed immune to the prevailing panic, the original White House Gilbert Stuart hangs in the East Room, not that you will be allowed to see it while you're here. However, if you do want to see a Stuart painting of Washington, just stroll down F St.

So where did Dolley go? Like many residents, she initially fled to Georgetown. Then a separate town within the District of Columbia, Georgetown was on the high ground across Rock Creek to the West. Easily defensible, it was where Gen. Winder was attempting to rally his militia, with all the leadership and command presence he had displayed at Bladensburg. Dolley initially stopped at Dumbarton Oaks, the residence of Declaration signer Charles Carroll. Dumbarton still stands and is well worth the visit in your time here in Washington. In fact, if you're here this weekend, they're hosting Dolley herself to help commemorate the War of 1812.

But by far the most visible sign of the retreating Americans was the burning of the Washington Navy Yard. Desperate not to let the supplies stored there fall into the hands of the British, English-born Commodore Thomas Tingey waited until word came of the American defeat at Bladensburg came, and ordered the Yard burned. Over half a million dollars of buildings, supplies, and ships caught fire, most notably the 32 gun frigate Columbia, due to be launched in ten days. No doubt due to the large amounts of pitch and tar laden supplies, the glow of the fire that night was reported to be seen as far east at the British warships on the Patuxant River and as far west as Leesburg, Virginia. As destructive as it was, some buildings survived, most notably the Latrobe Gate, shown above. The Navy Yard, or at the very least the Navy Museum, is near the top of my list of under appreciated sites in Washington, DC.

Coming tomorrow, the British!