Day Trip: The Peninsula

Marina in Kecoughtan
I have a week of vacation time carried over from last year, so I figured I'd better start using some of those days. I took the day off Monday, and Morris & I hit the road early and drove down to the Virginia Peninsula.

We were specifically interested in seeing Hilton Village in Newport News, and planned to stop at Country Style Donuts on the East End of Richmond to stoke ourselves with sugar, but the shop was closed for remodeling. Chagrined, we continued down the road to the peninsula, and decided to eat breakfast there.

We ate breakfast at the Oasis, which has been welcoming Hampton residents and visitors since 1952. The food was good, and the service was very friendly.

Across from the Oasis was the White Oak Lodge. I don't know if you can get a meal there, but the beer truck was out front early in the day, stocking up for the evening crowd. It had the look of an old honky tonk, with its boarded windows.

The business establishments above on Kecoughtan Boulevard, and the house shown below on Chesapeake Avenue on the James River, are in the Old Wythe section of Hampton. Hampton is the oldest continuously inhabited English settlement in America. The Wythe section of the city honors George Wythe, an important patriot and statesman of our nation who was murdered!
Holy Jessica Fletcher!

Stick around for that stranger-than-fiction story coming up after the next photo!

A stately home overlooking the waters of Hampton Roads
George Wythe, born in 1726 in what is now known as Hampton, was a just & respected man. Thomas Jefferson, once George's student of law, called him "my faithful and beloved Mentor in youth, and my most affectionate friend through life." Wythe's life was filled with accomplishments, too many to list, but a few include first professor of law in America, signer of the Declaration of Independence, Virginia's Chancellor and foremost classical scholar.

Upon his death in 1806, Jefferson wrote "No man ever left behind him a character more venerated than George Wythe. His virtue was of the purest tint; his integrity inflexible, and his justice exact; of warm patriotism, and, devoted as he was to liberty, and the natural and equal rights of man, he might truly be called the Cato of his country."

He also sounds like a nice guy. A widower, he welcomed his law students into his home as boarders, and tried to cripple the institution of slavery in Virginia. His ruling that African-Americans were included in "all men" born free did not survive appeal, but he did free his slaves and provided for their support.

So, how did a venerated man, kind, generous and scholarly, become the victim of arsenic poisoning?

When Wythe became judge of Virginia's Chancery Court, he moved to Richmond. Lydia Broadnax, a freed slave, remained with George Wythe's household as housekeeper, and George added a provision to his will for her. Also, he had taken a young black man, Michael Brown, into his home to teach him law, and the will included funds for his education. Enter George Wythe Sweeney, the Snidely Whiplash of our story, a grand-nephew to old George. George Sweeney had forged checks against his great-uncle's accounts to cover debts, and was an all around ne'er-do-well. He also stole rare books from Wythe's library, and sold them to finance his gambling habit. Lydia saw Sweeney examining Wythe's will late one night when he thought he was undetected.

Mr. Sweeney seethed that his inheritance would be shared, and purchased a quantity of arsenic. He stealthily poisoned the breakfasts of Broadnax, Brown, and his great-uncle one morning, and then left the house before eating. Mathew Brown died within a few days; old George lingered in agony for a couple of weeks, and named his nephew to his doctors when he said "I am murdered." He summoned his lawyer to his bedside and eliminated the bequest to his nephew from his will.

An interesting sidenote: when George Sweeney was arrested for the forged checks, he had the gall to send a a message to his dying uncle asking for bail money. The request was refused.

The only survivor of the poisonings was Lydia Broadnax. She could not testify against George Sweeney because he was white and she was black. Mr. Sweeney was acquitted. Ironically, although he wished to, George Wythe had not eliminated the law prohibiting a black person from testifying against a white person when he revised the Code of Virginia three decades earlier. The law that prevented his faithful housekeeper from giving evidence at his murderer's trial remained on the books until 1867 during Reconstruction.

If you would like to learn more about the death of George Wythe, historynet is a good source. I would avoid wikipedia because that account has inaccuracies.

This house was an anomaly in the midst of colonial and traditionally styled houses. I would love to see the interior. It was a handsome departure from the vernacular architecture along the waterfront. I think it adds a touch of Hollywood glamor to the neighborhood.

James River Bridge

Waterfront near Hilton Village

Hilton Village homes along River Road

Hilton Village home
Hilton Village was the first Federal war housing development, necessitated by the critical lack of adequate housing near the Newport News Shipping and Drydock Company during World War I. German U-boats were sinking ships faster then the U.S. & England could produce them by the end of 1917, and shipbuilding became vital to winning the war. The shipyard had doubled its workforce, but the best-skilled workers were leaving because of deplorable, expensive, and scarce housing.

The community was planned through the cooperative efforts of an architect, a landscape architect, and a town planner. Town planning included schools, shops & markets, churches, theaters, clubhouses, and parks & playgrounds. A streetcar line extension provided transportation to the shipyard for the men.

It was an era when women worked in the home. Remarkably, the planners thought to ask the wives of the shipyard workers what features they wanted in their dwellings. Thus, housing included built-ins, such as dressers and Murphy beds in the bedrooms, and cabinets in the dining rooms. Backyards were deep enough to accommodate gardens. Today, some of the homes still feature claw-foot tubs in the bathrooms. The development's design was that of an English village, and buildings are Jacobean in style.

Hilton Village duplex

Box Office at the Village Theater in Hilton Village
Village Theater

Village Theater marquee
Of course, breakfast at the Oasis had been hours ago, so we sought out another restaurant that dates back to the early 50's.

Rocky Mount BBQ
When we asked about the barbecue pork at Rocky Mount BBQ, the waitress brought us each complimentary samples before we ordered lunch! This restaurant has been here since the early 50's, and I'd definitely visit again. The homemade banana pudding looked scrumptious, but there was no room at my inn by the time I finished my BBQ platter.

Morris & I enjoyed our day trip to an area we had not explored in depth previously. The Virginia peninsula had always been an area to "just get through" on Interstate 64 on my way to other places. It turns out that it has a lot to offer the visitor. I may go back to tour the Mariner's Museum and the Virginia War Museum. Maybe I'm just looking for an excuse to dine at the Oasis and Rocky Mount BBQ again.

p.s. This is a new danger zone on Hermitage Road near my office. They serve ice cream from the Homestead Creamery, a small family-owned dairy in Virginia. It'll put a hurtin' on ya, it's so rich & creamy.

Dogtown & Hanovertown

A sign along the road at Hanovertown
On Sunday, I rode out to an antique mall northeast of town with Morris to visit a vendor who has a massive collection of magazines, postcards, photographs, and ephemera. Morris looked at postcards, which I usually look at also, but Sunday I got caught up in a box of old bills, report cards, business correspondence, advertisements and the like.

One 1956 company newsletter featured the story of Susie, a squirrel who would come to the back door & knock until someone brought her peanuts & "peacans." A letter from 1938 complained haughtily that the electrical work had not been completed when the writer & his wife went to their river home for the weekend. Another business letter from a firm's president extended get well wishes to one of the owners, and said he'd enjoyed seeing him at the fox hunt when they "rode to hounds." An invitation from St. Benedict's School announced their Final Ball at Tantilla Gardens, a long-gone Richmond ballroom, where you could "dance beneath the stars" courtesy of a roof that rolled back above the dance floor. A receipt from a local bakery showed that someone thought a half-dozen of their eclairs was well worth forty-six cents.

It's caused me to wonder over the past few days at all the slips of paper that have passed through my hands over the years.

Retirement for an Old Farm Hand
When we left Antique Village, we rode out through the countryside of Hanover County, turning off the highway onto River Road. We were searching for Hanovertown, a dot on the map and a place of which we had never heard. Sure, there's Hanover Courthouse, with the Houndstooth Cafe at the intersection of Routes 54 & 301, but Hanovertown? It seemed to be in the middle of nowhere, and there was little to indicate that there had ever been a town there.

Grocery shopping in downtown Hanovertown.
This market featured self-checkout, like many of the large grocery stores in town. Instead of an automated cash/credit card machine, there was an old metal breadbox with a slot cut in the top.
Hanovertown, not even a wide spot in the road these days, was a thriving village in the late 1700's. Originally settled in 1676 as Page's Warehouse, it was Hanover County's first major settlement. When the House of Burgesses decided to relocate Virginia's Capital, Hanovertown lost by only a few votes to Richmond. The quiet, bucolic landscape today does not hint that Cornwallis burned warehouses here in his failed Virginia Campaign in 1781, or that this land saw another bloody battle during Grant's Wilderness Campaign in 1864. Prosperity of landowners was made possible through enslavement, when the lives of some human beings were considered simple investments. Here is the text from a newspaper advertisement:

Fifty dollars reward. Runaway from the subscriber, on 21st instant, a mulatto man named John, alias John Strange. He is rather of small stature, well set, has a round and remarkably pleasing visage, and is an excellent house servant, hostler, and driver...He has a wife at Mr. Mann Pages, near Hanover-town, where he may probably lurk for some time. If apprehended, great care should be taken to secure him, as I expect he is desperate as well as vicious.
--Spencer Roane, May 28, 1805


The previous evening, Saturday, I was invited to speak at an AA meeting in the Manchester section of Richmond. Manchester, now part of the city of Richmond, was a separate town until it consolidated with Richmond in 1910. Manchester sits opposite the James River from downtown Richmond, and was a working-class town from early times. Its nickname, Dogtown, can be found as early as 1887 in a Richmond Times newspaper article. Today, Manchester is starting to show signs of renewal but its revitalization, though promising, is still tenuous. In general, most people would not want to walk the sidewalks in this area at night.

Saturday night, a few friends & I went to Belle's studio (shown below) for a meeting of the Dogtown Drunks. Belle had invited me to speak on the 4th & 5th steps. The room was packed. Most in the crowd had walked over from The Healing Place, a men's treatment & recovery center that takes in the homeless with addiction problems.

Belle's studio in Manchester, home of the Dogtown Drunks
It was the first time I had been to this meeting. When I was introduced to speak, I looked at the faces that surrounded me, mostly of younger, African-American men, and hoped that I would have something to offer them in the way of hope & recovery. Our life experiences differed, but we had at least one thing in common: alcoholism or addiction.

Belle's collection of driftwood from the banks of the James River
4th Step: Made a searching and fearless moral inventory of ourselves.
5th Step: Admitted to God, to ourselves, and to another human being the exact nature of our wrongs.

I talked briefly about how each step provided me with a foundation for the steps that followed, and the principles behind each step. I mentioned how my first sponsor looked over my 4th step list, and gave it back to me, telling me to include my good qualities in addition to my faults so that the moral inventory would be complete.

Mostly, though, I told them about the gift I received when I finished my 5th step.

Two days after I sat down with my sponsor to complete my 5th step, I was at home alone after an early meeting. Without warning, a tide of anger rose up in me that was all-consuming. Anger, undiluted & elemental, at the man who had molested me when I was five. It burned through me, and left me shaking and weeping. I felt drained, and I sat and sobbed. I finally cried for the first time for the little five-year old boy inside me who had been betrayed by a neighbor. I had finally let myself feel the anger.

The emotions and conflicting feelings I had tamped down, suppressed, and ignored for years came up and out. I felt like I had gone over a waterfall in a wooden barrel. The wave of profoundly visceral feeling passed, and I dashed the tears from my eyes, blew my snotty nose, and just sat there. I felt clean and empty. And I had another gift coming.

I sat there, still a little stunned, and an awareness dawned. I realized that, up until that moment, I had held a deep & unacknowledged resentment against my parents. It was a revelation. Now, finally, I could understand that my parents did the best they knew how to do at the time. I saw that when they asked me "Why didn't you tell us?" it was not an accusation. They were also hurt & bewildered. They were first-time parents in the 1960's thrust into a situation with no frame of reference. As a sense of forgiveness grew in me, my shame & guilt slipped away. Those feelings had become obsolete; I was the only person who had ever given them form & substance.

I shared an abbreviated version of my 4th & 5th step experience to the Dogtown Drunks, and I told them why I thought it was important. It is estimated that roughly 80% of alcoholics and addicts experienced abuse in some form as a child. I do not understand the correlation, but I knew that the chances were good that a fair number of the men & women in that room had suffered mental, physical, or sexual abuse as children. I also knew that the 4th and 5th steps are a pathway to freedom, and that the secrets we keep...keep us sick.

The 5th step was scary for me; more frightening than my moral inventory. Sure, I could make a list of my character defects. But, to sit down with another human being and share all that stuff? I put it off as long as I could, until I started feeling restless, irritable, and discontented - in other words, sick again.

I could not have predicted the outcome of taking the 4th and 5th steps beforehand. It took a leap of faith to do something I did not want to do. When it was all said & done, I could look the world in the eye. I could be alone at perfect peace and ease. My fears had fallen from me, and I could feel the nearness of my Creator. I felt like I was in the midst of something spiritual. A few readers will know exactly what I'm talking about.

On Saturday night, in the dim light of Belle's studio after I'd sat down, men began to share. I had been guided by something other than myself. I had shared once again what was uncomfortable for me. One by one, from here & there around the room, the secrets began to be told. It was a very humbling experience for me to be in that room Saturday night. Some men left that meeting afterwards to return to The Healing Place. Some left to spend the night outdoors, wherever they could find a little shelter. I hope they slept peacefully.

I Cover the Waterfront

There's that damned view from the porch again. Don't worry; this is the last of the 2010 Great St. Lawrence River Vacation blog posts. We're just going to cruise up & down the river a little bit today.

This "little white cottage" was all decked out for the Fourth of July weekend with patriotic bunting, and a flag snapping in the breeze.

When I was a kid, I would have flipped out if we had suddenly moved from our 1950's suburban rancher to a place like this. Houses like this had towers and spooky hallways. Cobwebby attics. Dark, drippy cellars. Nancy Drew & the Hardy Boys couldn't turn around in an old house without finding a secret passage or a trap door, so surely there'd be a few of those in a house like this one.

Here's a bigger view. This house is on a private island, and the private island has its own little private island! The whimsical footbridge leads to a button-shaped islet with what looks like a croquet lawn in the middle.


Meanwhile, ships cruised past Sadie's place...





The freighters & tankers were nearly silent, surprisingly. If I had my head stuck in a book, they were easy to miss. The pleasure boats, on the other hand, sounded like bees or mosquitos buzzing by.


This house had all kinds of flags flying around the perimeter of its island.

This island had no house on it, and was a big hunk of granite rising up from the water. We watched people diving from the cliff into the water.

The water was choppy on the morning we took the boat to the town of Alexandria Bay for breakfast. We ate at Chez Paris, which is a funny name for a plain ol' all-American diner.
This picture shows Heart Island, with Boldt Castle poking up from the trees, directly across from town.

A view of the waterfront at the Village of Clayton, taken from the deck of La Duchesse.

Just around the bend from Sadie's place, the Carrier home overlooks the river. That's Carrier as in Carrier air-conditioning. Notice that the third floor windows on a very hot afternoon are open. Perhaps they need a service call. Nothing stops a Trane.

Going west from Sadie's dock, around the rocky point of Gypsy Island, the river took us by Point Vivian. Here we see the old store with the town social hall upstairs. I don't know what it is used for today. I believe the store is closed, but it figures into the dark but colorful history of Point Vivian that you really should read next.

Pleasant homes line the shores of Point Vivian, which was a late 19th Century vacation haven for the middle class. Although there are many examples of summer homes of the wealthy along this stretch of the St. Lawrence, Point Vivian is still a vibrant community of more modest resort homes.

The final photograph shows a small island off the west bank of Point Vivian. This is clearly someone's playground. There's no house, but there are little buildings and a gazebo, lawn furniture and umbrellas, a little footbridge, a swimming platform, and a small dock. I could have stayed here all day when I was little, and it would have been a pirate's hideout or an enchanted island.

I'm really grateful that I was able to return to the Thousand Islands this year, thanks to Sadie's hospitality. I saw sites familiar from last summer's visit, and discovered new places. I traveled with a group of friends who also enjoy a life of sobriety, and like to live each day to the fullest. We had a marvelous time together relaxing, exploring, eating, reading, boating, swimming, napping, and laughing.



When I got back home, I ordered a thank-you gift from Canvas on Demand for Sadie to hang in her office. It really looks sharp, and the customer service couldn't have been better.

How Big Is Your Rowboat?

Another day quietly begins on the St. Lawrence.
I was usually up in the mornings by five o'clock while on vacation, but one morning I was wide awake at four. I tried to get back to sleep, but I gave up at 4:20 and got out of bed. I started a pot of coffee, and got the ingredients out to make a coffee cake. A friend gave me this recipe, and I like it for its old-fashioned taste. It is quite plain, no bells or whistles, but that's what makes it so good. I enjoyed being in the kitchen before the sun was up, baking a homemade treat while my companions slumbered. This cake is easy to make, and it was still warm from the oven when they wandered out of their bedrooms, looking for coffee.

Swiss Coffee Cake
¾ cup butter
1-1/2 cup sugar
2 cups flour
2 tsp baking powder
2 eggs, beaten
½ cup milk
1 tsp vanilla

Cream butter & sugar. Add flour & baking powder – crumble together with hands like you would pie dough.
Take out 1 cup of crumbs and set aside for top.
Now add eggs, milk & vanilla.
Place batter in a lightly greased 11x7 pan. Top with crumbs.
Bake at 350 about 30 minutes.

Once everyone was coffeed & caked, scrubbed & dressed, we drove to the village of Clayton. On the way into town, we stopped and made Robespierre pose beside Paul Bunyan's golf bag. Robespierre is a good head taller than the rest of us, so we don't get to see him looking short very often.

The land around Clayton was originally held by the Algonquins, but then the Iroquois told them to get out. Then the white man came along, and we all know how that turned out. Clayton experienced boom times with the installation of a railroad line in 1873. During this era, the concept of vacationing became popular and accessible to the middle-class, not just the wealthy. Tourists came from the cities, and many hotels were built in Clayton to accommodate them and lighten their wallets.

Clayton was the northern-most point on the New York Central Railroad, and during July & August over 30 trains per day arrived & departed Clayton. Tourists either stayed in town, or boarded steamships for other points along the St. Lawrence River.

Clayton argues with nearby Alexandria Bay over which town is the true birthplace of that condiment we all know so well - Thousand Island dressing.

We spent some time shopping along Riverside Drive, and bought hot dogs from a stand to eat alongside the river. Then Sadie bought us all tickets to the Antique Boat Museum, which was a first-class operation. Thank you, Sadie! The museum was a vacation highlight, and I recommend a visit to anyone who travels to the area.

Museum tickets include a guided tour of George Boldt's houseboat, La Duchesse, built for him in 1903. Cameras were allowed, so I have a bunch of pictures to show you.

La Duchesse
After George Boldt died, the houseboat was purchased by Edward John Noble, a candy industrialist who popularized Life Savers candies and was the founder of ABC, the American Broadcasting Company. You need a lot of money to float a boat like La Duchesse.

The galley was updated after the boat was sold by George Boldt's estate. It was large and efficiently laid out. Robespierre is walking through the butler's pantry, which is about the size of my kitchen.
However, keeping La Duchesse afloat proved problematic, no matter how much money was available. You also need reliable plumbing. In 1943, a pipe burst under a bathroom and flooded the hull, sinking the vessel up to the top of the first deck. When the houseboat sank, it rested on two submerged pilings which pierced the wooden hull.

(In AA, we call these "high-class problems")

This working brass fireplace is decorated with starfish and mythical dolphins. There is another working fireplace of green marble in the grand salon on the upper deck.
The hull was patched, and the boat refloated. It was purchased by one of the many Andrews McNally of the Rand McNally publishing dynasty, who had it towed to his summer home. The McNallys used La Duchesse as a party boat for entertaining. Their summer place is across the river from Sadie's property, and she remembers seeing the houseboat docked across the river when she was growing up.

Guest cabin
The interior of the boat is finely crafted, and features Honduran mahogany for its beauty & durability. Mahogany was prized for boat construction prior to steel because mahogany does not rot in water like many other woods. The original hull of the boat used this wood, but the hull was replaced with steel in 1958.

There were plenty of bathrooms on board!
La Duchesse was constructed to serve as a residence, a true house boat, as well as a place to entertain guests. It was never self-propelled, and was towed to its desired locations. George Boldt lived on it at times during the summers he was building Boldt Castle. Andrew McNally used it for entertaining, and for overflow guest space. Speaking of overflow, I wonder if the bath water sloshed out of these tubs if a passing boat created a large wake?

Another cabin for an overnight guest.

Yet another cabin on the first deck. This boat had more guest space than most homes. There were six cabins on the first deck. Also, two servants' cabins and bath across from the galley.

The master bath on the upper deck. I love the nautical-theme hamper. Note the bathmat with the La Duchesse logo.

George Boldt's study.

The owner's sitting room on the upper deck.

A nook for a piano or small band for party music.

The promenade deck, above & below. This deck and the adjoining grand salon were the only parts of the boat that many party guests saw (or remembered).

La Duchesse was just one exhibit of many at the Antique Boat Museum. Whether you are an avid boater or a landlubber like me, there were many things of interest to see and experience.

Sadie poses on a climb-aboard exhibit.

Sheldon in the galley, thinking of what he can whip up for dinner.
This was in an old boat-of-some-type-I-cannot-remember that was used for fishing in its former life. Schooner? Trawler? Sampan? Ocean liner? It's a foreign language to me, but I appreciate the craftsmanship.

Sadie, about to be attacked by a killer whale in downtown Clayton.

We close today's post with a picture of Sadie & Sheldon, Couple of the Year.
The next post should finish up my Thousand Islands adventure series. We'll take a boat ride up & down the river, checking out more scenery and peering at people's houses. See you next time!