A Slow Boat To Scotland

I had a busy weekend, but I feel well-rested this morning because I slept late. The alarm went off at 5am as usual (which is really 4:50 because I have this weird thing about setting the clock by my bed ten minutes fast) and I reset it for 8am. I don't have to be at work until 9:30, so I was able to get some catch-up sleep. It seems like I have my strangest dreams when I fall back to sleep after the first wake-up. This morning it was about a couple of kittens that kept disappearing into two one-inch holes in a wall.

There was an AA state assembly that I attended in Williamsburg over the weekend, and two of my pals, Constance & Dot, rode down with me, so we had a little car party. Instead of taking the interstate, we drove down Route 5, which follows the north side of the James River. When we got to Jamestown, we took the ferry across the river to Scotland, and then drove into Surry Courthouse for lunch. The ferry is operated by the state highway department, and there is no charge to ride it. I've included some pictures below from the ferry ride.


The photo above shows the pilot house of the ferry we were on. These vessels are fairly new and much smaller than the old ones I remember from childhood. The previous ferries had an upstairs wrap-around deck, and an enclosed passenger lounge and snack bar. The new ferries are surely more cost efficient, but the only things up there other than the pilot houses (one at each end) are two nasty restrooms for passenger use. And a crew lounge that is off-limits, and probably outfitted like a luxurious salon on the QE2.


Like many places with people & water, the seagulls were hanging out hoping for scraps. Sometimes huge flocks of gulls will congregate at parking lots in Richmond. No one has told them that they should stick to the oceanfront. Here, they are perched on the pilings that guide the ferries into the slip. The day was gray & breezy, and quite lovely in its own way. The terminus at Jamestown is right beside the replicas of the Godspeed, Discovery, and Susan Constant, the tiny ships that brought the settlers across the Atlantic to form the first permanent English settlement in the New World in 1607. The journey took 144 days, and - amazingly - only one person died en route. Looking at the size of the little ships, one can imagine what an uncomfortable & perilous trip that would have been.


That's a big ol' thick rope used for tying up the ferry when it docks. I like the sensation of being on the water. I can see why my dad enjoyed being in the Navy. Of course, the destroyers in WWII didn't have stabilizers, so there was a lot of pitching & rolling. My dad was famous for going up to some poor sailor looking out on the horizon who was feeling perfectly fine, and talking him into vomiting over the side of the ship.

"Hey, nice night. How are you doing?"
"Great. You?"
"Oh, fine. I was just wondering because you don't look so good."
"Really? No, I feel fine."
"That's good, but you really look like you're feeling queasy. But I'm glad you're okay, because most guys get seasick when they look out at the horizon like you're doing. Especially with the ship pitching & rolling like it is tonight. You look kinda pale. Are you sure you're feeling okay?"

Never under-estimate the power of suggestion.


This shot was a surprise. The monochromatic vista across the river was very serene, so I wanted to capture it. I'm loving my first digital camera, because I can snap photos indiscriminately without worrying about using up costly film. When I looked at this shot on the camera screen, I couldn't tell what the dot was in the center of the photo. It wasn't until I extruded the image from the camera that I realized that a gull was almost dead center in the picture. I didn't even see it when I took the picture.


After lunch we rode around Surry Courthouse, which didn't take long, and then headed east on Route 10. We turned onto a paved country road heading to Chippokes Plantation, which was established in 1617 by Captain William Powell of the Jamestown Settlement. The property was donated to the Commonwealth of Virginia in 1967 for use as a state park. It is one of the largest working farms in the nation, and has kept its original boundaries since the 1600's. Constance & Dot are pictured above in front of an old Allis-Chalmers tractor. Constance wanted to go plow a field, but the thing wouldn't start.

The picture below was taken near the mansion, and the tree blossoms & green field of rye were rich with the promise of Spring. After we left the plantation, we took the ferry back to the north side of the James, and checked in at our hotel in Williamsburg. The weekend assembly allowed representatives from across the state to meet and vote on the business functions of Alcoholics Anonymous. Some members are not attracted to this type of work, and some do not recognize the value of it. All I know is that AA was alive & well when I needed help. That didn't happen by accident. Scores of people, amazed by their own release from bondage, decided that they owed a debt to the program and put their efforts into keeping AA vital and viable for alcoholics like me who wanted a chance at hope and recovery. When we give back, we are surprised to find that we receive even more. That is how it works.

I also have some shots of Colonial Williamsburg that I will post later, and the story of a decaying house that we found on our post-luncheon ride. It is a house that I visited in the late 1970's, and as the pictures will show, it may not be around much longer.

Project Greek Island

I went out of town this past weekend, and it wasn't to a Greek Island. It wasn't even an overnight trip, but I had a wonderful time nonetheless. The Creeping Malaise that had me in its grip the previous weekend caused a disruption in plans. Originally, Sheldon, Robespierre & I were going to take a road trip on the 15th, but that had to be postponed until the 22nd. Unfortunately, Robespierre was not able to go when we rescheduled, but I picked Sheldon up about 7:30 Sunday morning, and we fortified ourselves with breakfast at the City Diner before hitting the road.

One of my discoveries as I started reading my mother's diaries was that my family was directly affected by the Cuban Missile Crisis. In mid-October of 1962, my dad was called to Washington for a top secret meeting. On October 22, fifty of my dad's men were sent to the Caribbean, and President Kennedy made press announcements about the seriousness of the situation. My dad came home briefly from the base on Wednesday, October 24, got the suitcases down from the attic, and told my mother that she must take me and evacuate to the midwest. My mother & I departed for Iowa the following day by train. The Cuban Missile Crisis is regarded as the moment we came closest to nuclear attack during the Cold War.

Known to only a few, a U.S. Government Relocation Facility had been built on the grounds of the luxurious Greenbrier Hotel in White Sulphur Springs, West Virginia, and was designed to accommodate both the U.S. Senate and the House of Representatives in the event of a national emergency. Construction lasted three years, between 1958 and 1961. Once completed, the bunker was kept in a constant state of readiness until the secret was exposed by The Washington Post in May, 1992. This project went by several names during its active service, one of which was Project Greek Island.

Now, the massive fallout shelter is open for tours. Sheldon & I arrived at the Greenbrier for a 1:30 tour, and we made a few stops along the way. Cameras are not allowed inside the bunker, but we took some shots during our road trip. Our first stop was at Swannanoa, which sits atop Afton Mountain. We took a small road off Route 250 near the entrances to the Blue Ridge Parkway and the Skyline Drive. The private drive for Swannanoa branched off of the unmarked road. As I barreled past the No Trespassing sign, Sheldon sucked in his breath (when his cat makes this noise, Sheldon calls it Sassy's prelude to a hiss). Soon, the unlikely sight of a Medici-style marble villa swung into view. You can look at a few pictures below.

The house is perched on Afton Mountain above Rockfish Gap, and was the summer home of James & Sallie May Dooley. The Dooleys built an estate called Maymont in Richmond, which I visited last year. They seemed to enjoy quite a bit of disposable income, probably because they didn't have children. Swannanoa sat empty for a number of years, and was then home to the University of Science and Philosophy, founded by Walter & Lao Russell. This pair seemed like two crackpots, as best I can tell. Fortunately, the house has a new owner who seems to be putting some effort into maintenance & restoration, although the place is currently unoccupied once again.

Our next stop, aside from the Food Lion in Stuart's Draft so that weenie Sheldon could get some aspirin, was in Lexington, Virginia, which was founded in 1777. Lexington is the home of Virginia Military Institute and Washington & Lee University. It's a beautiful old town, and we stopped to take pictures of a tree in Spring bloom, and then strolled a bit stretching our legs.



The Greenbrier's Bunker tour was our next destination. The hotel is lavishly appointed, and sits incongruously at the edge of the ramshackle town of White Sulphur Springs. Clearly, this town would be in sad shape without the hotel. We gathered in the North Lobby, and boarded a shuttle bus which took us back out the main gate, west on Route 60, and back onto the hotel grounds via a service gate. The bus went up a narrow road to the bunker entrance. In the era of secrecy, this was explained as a service door for maintenance operations, and a Danger - High Voltage sign warned people away. Beyond the inconspicuous truck entrance was a 25-ton blast door made by Mosler. This door is 12 feet wide, 10 feet tall, 18 inches thick, and can be opened & closed by one person exerting 50 pounds of pressure to get the movement started. On the other side of the door lies a long tunnel which was used by supply trucks. Supplies were moved in & out in the middle of the night.

The bunker was kept in a constant state of readiness, and was prepared to house about 1100 people for 60 days. This meant a lot of food was always kept on hand with staggered expiration dates. Someone had the thrilling job of rotating that supply in & out; imagine checking all those use-by dates. For excitement, that's right up there with stuffing cotton in aspirin bottles.

Once inside the bunker, most of it was quite non-descript. Intentionally. In case someone somehow got in there without authorization, doors were not marked. I guess this is where Reality and Hollywood parted ways. In a movie, the ne'er-do-wells would have just looked at a sign on the door to find the Command Center or the House Speaker's Dorm Room. In this place, some of the doors didn't even have doorknobs.

We got to see lots of interesting things, including the room where they would have broadcasted messages to us common folks outside. In one room there were two big murals. One showed the Capitol Dome, and the other the front of the White House. These were meant to be reassuring backdrops for news briefings. Meanwhile, we would have been watching while our skin peeled off in strips, if we were still alive out here.

The construction of the facility was under the guise of adding a new wing onto the hotel, which the government paid for. Interestingly, one large area of the bunker was actually used as a public exhibit hall, and a couple of auditoriums. Regular visitors would have had no idea that they were in a fallout shelter, because the blast doors that would seal the bunker in an emergency were cleverly hidden behind false walls and panels. It's one of those hide in plain sight strategems. Sheldon thinks the place is really still a disaster relocation center, and that our mild-mannered tour guide is actually a CIA operative. Sheldon is such an idiot sometimes. Or is he???

After the tour, we retrieved our cameras and snapped a few pictures at the Greenbrier. There's Sheldon below, acting like he owns the place. Perhaps he could soon; the Greenbrier just filed bankruptcy.

Here's the beautiful indoor pool. The water was as smooth as glass. The lifeguard looked lonely, so I waved at him. He waved back forlornly.

This is the famous Springhouse. People have been drawn to this resort since 1778 to take the waters. Personally, I don't know what attracts people to sulphur water, but to each his own.


It was a very fun day, and Sheldon and I always have a good time wherever we go. We had such a good time laughing and talking that the miles flew by. By the time we crested Afton Mountain on the way home, dusk had already settled on the valley below.

Mouth-Breather

What? How am I doing, you ask? Kinda crappy, actually. I've been a little under the weather. Feeling puny. Looking peaked. Feeling groggy. Sick as a dog. White as a sheet. Pale as a ghost. Not ship-shape. Run down. Worn out. Half dead. Unable to breathe through my nostrils.

This past weekend, during the zenith of my misery, I caught myself reflecting on being home sick from school when I was in grade school. My mom would transform into Clara Barton, and my every need would be lovingly tended. My brow was smoothed, and soothed with damp washcloths. Bedding was straightened & tucked in. Pillows were plumped and shades were drawn. The vaporizer fogged the windows. The thermometer would be checked, and it would remain under my tongue for several hours before it was trusted for an accurate reading. At least, it seemed that way to me.

I always had a niggling fear in the back of my mind that I would bite through the thermometer by accident and die from mercury poisoning. I had no idea what this entailed, but in my mind my mother would return from a lengthy phone call to find me with my eyes rolled back in my head, mouth gaping, quicksilver drooling from my blue lips. My mother would wring her hands and sob "Darned that Catherine! I told her Billy was sick, and that I couldn't talk on the phone! Now look what I've done." This never actually occurred, as far as I know.

The best part about being sick was when the tide turned and I started feeling better. There was that golden moment when the crisis had passed, but I still looked like hell. I could play my mom for anything I wanted. She was grateful that I was responding to treatment, and I could look at her doe-eyed and ask if maybe she could make me a fold-over peanut-butter sandwich and then play Crazy Eights with me.

Did you have a favorite food when you were starting to recuperate? Mine was a peanut butter sandwich. No jelly. White bread lightly spread with butter; then peanut butter. Cut into squares, not triangles. That was my first foray back to the world of solid food. If that stayed down, my next skirmish was with Campbell's Tomato Soup. Made with whole milk, not water. And lots of crushed crackers.

Watching daytime television with Mom was always fun, too. Of course, my mother never sat down to watch television in the daytime. That would have put her on the fast track to becoming a fallen woman. Mom would iron clothes, the steam iron clicking & hissing, as I snuggled in bed, and we would watch the afternoon game shows. Mom's favorite was The Newlywed Game, but I preferred Let's Make a Deal. I liked the costumes that the contestants wore, and I was certain that my mother could do an even better job than Carol Merrill as Monty Hall's assistant. In fact, when we were in high school, Suzanne & I convinced Jim Tyer, a lower classman, that my mother was Carol Merrill in retirement.

Unfortunately, there was no Mom to place cold, refreshing washcloths on my hot brow this past weekend. I was left to my own devices when it came to administering medications at the proper intervals. I scrounged for food in my pantry & freezer until a neighbor took pity on me. Being sick is a lonely business when our mothers are gone.

Other People's Lives

On a couple of recent weekends, I indulged in a beloved pastime which is free and readily accessible these days. The only cost is transportation, and that needn't be much if you stay close to home. It can also be fun for the whole family, as long as everyone (including adults) is well behaved. I have memories of my parents & I doing this from time to time.

One Saturday in February, Constance & I were out roaming in the car. We rode to Southside, which is not a town, but rather the part of Richmond that is located south of the James River. Our main goal was to snap a picture of a particular backyard that has a lot of lawn clutter, but we also stopped at Southside Plaza to visit a thrift shop that Constance likes. Southside Plaza is a collection of struggling retail shops from the glory days of the American Shopping Center. You can buy groceries, get short-term loans using your automobile or anticipated paychecks as collateral, purchase other people's flotsam & jetsam, or eat unidentifiable animal meat at your choice of dubious restaurants. If your timing is right, you can also get a stab wound or a bullet through your head in the parking lot.

Note to tourists: See the photograph to the right? If you are visiting Virginia and Monticello's surroundings look like this, you are not at Thomas Jefferson's home. You are in the parking lot at Southside Plaza looking at a church across Route 360. Get back in your car.

Anyway, on our rambles, we ended up in the West End, and an English cottage-style home that I find intriguing had a sign out front stating that the house would be open for inspection the following day. This house has been on the market for several months, so I made a mental note of the time for the open house. I'm not in the market for a new home; I'm just nosy. The following day my friend John & I went by for a look. On the way there, we noticed that there were signs everywhere for open houses, so we looked through four that day. What a fun way to spend an afternoon. And it's free! You don't even need to think up a tale to tell the realtor; just tell them you're sightseeing. They can spot us a mile away, anyway, and they'll be more likely to leave you alone. I've included a few pictures. You can browse without leaving your home, and if you are looking for something to do next weekend, check out some homes in your own area.

Here's the English Cottage on Oak Lane, which features rolled eaves on the shingle roof, a popular conceit meant to evoke the thatched roofs of Merry Old England. This style, and its cousin, Tudor Revival, were quite popular in the first half of the last century.


All the rooms were empty. I'll bet the realtor gnashed her teeth when the departing family refused to get rental furniture at their new home until this one sold.


The house had interesting woodwork, custom cut in a rustic style. Most of the closets were built as add-ins, which I am sure was deliberate since closets were customary at the time the house was built. I was especially drawn to the odd convergence of ceiling and closet doors shown below, and the small rounded door inside the closet which led to a storage room in a gable.


The next picture shows a bit of a third floor master bathroom in another home on our afternoon tour. This house was in the Museum District on West Franklin Street, and looked like a typical dwelling from the front. Inside, detailed wood trim work abounded. The house had an English basement, where the original kitchen was located at the back of the building. There was also a new ubiquitous granite & stainless steel kitchen on the first floor, which lacked the practicality of the old kitchen, but would be far more convenient for a midnight snack than schlepping down to the cellar.

From the master bedroom on the second floor, you took a narrow staircase from the dressing room up to the bathroom pictured. This was truly a destination bathroom, because after trudging up those stairs in the middle of the night to pee, I'd be tempted to curl up in the soaking tub for the rest of the night.



The following Saturday found me at a new development called Rockett's Landing after brunch with Jean & Bruce. I took a few photographs there, too, so stay tuned to Planet Bill, and I'll be back with more open house adventures.

Oh, and here is a picture of the yard that started this whole romp. These folks have an unbelievable amount of stuff in their backyard, but their front yard is neat and orderly. That would seem sensible, except you have a clear view of the backyard from a major thoroughfare, and you can't see the front yard at all unless you drive into the neighborhood. I can't wait to see what they cram into their yard when the weather gets warm.

(Not) Dashing Through the Snow

Just when we thought we had made it through the winter with negligible snow and ice, we had a winter storm move through the area which started midday Sunday. I canceled plans to go poke around the Virginia Center for Architecture, and stayed home where it was warm & snuggly. I took the picture below from my back door in the mid-afternoon. The snow was starting to stick.

I took the next picture from my front door around nine o'clock in the evening. Sometimes when it snows, the temperature isn't terribly low. This was not the case during this storm. When I woke up the next day it was ten degrees.


I got up extra-early so that I could dig the car out, and get on the road. Since I grew up in the Southland, I am not an expert on driving in snow and ice. I realize this, so my motto is "Slow & steady wins the race." I don't crowd other drivers, I start off slow, drive below the speed limit, and anticipate stops so that the engine slows the car instead of relying solely on the brakes. At 6:00 in the morning, I didn't have many other drivers to worry about. I did see quite a few accidents later in the day. Some folks do not modify their driving techniques for poor weather conditions.

I got to the church where we have our morning meetings, and opened up the building. Soon, a couple of others showed up to help with coffee and setting up the room. The fellow who usually chairs on Mondays called and said he was running late, so he took my Thursday and I handled Monday. Even with the snow & wind, we had ten folks. We usually have thirty or so, which is not bad for a meeting at 6:45 a.m. It's important to be there for anyone who needs a meeting, no matter how nasty the weather may be. The picture below is how it looked at 6:30 outside the church; very pretty.

After the meeting on my way to work, I decided to snap a couple of photos on Monument Avenue. Growing up, we never went to Richmond, but we drove through it on I-64 when we were traveling. I always thought Richmond looked grim and ugly, and later realized that the interstate highway was deliberately routed in a way that would plow through many of the city's poor blighted neighborhoods. All I had seen of Richmond were worn-out ghettos.

My first real view of Richmond came in high school, when a friend & I drove to Richmond to see Virginia Commonwealth University. It happened to be snowing that day, and I remember how beautiful and quiet Monument Avenue seemed in the snow. It was not the Richmond I had seen from the interstate. The next picture shows Monument Avenue facing east. If you kept heading straight in this direction, you would end up in the State Capitol; you would have to side-step the Civil War cannon dead ahead in the picture, however. Our Capitol was designed by Thomas Jefferson, and a new visitors center opened recently, so I'll tell you about that when I become one of the visitors. Soon, I hope.

Next, we are facing west. The grandiose monument to Jefferson Davis is barely visible in the distance. These pictures were taken during a lull. It continued to snow and blow for several more hours.

I've always liked the Mediterranean-style house below. It looks cozy & friendly.

Then we have the austere and imposing Taylor House, which looks cold even in the summer months. The owner, Helen Marie Taylor, spends very little time here. She has a large estate in Orange County where she breeds Arabian horses, and she spends most of her days in the country.

Thank You For Sharing

I popped in on Daave's blog this morning, and noticed a post from yesterday. He invited others to join in if they like, and this seems like the perfect way to avoid laundry & housework, so here goes...

1. Where is your cell phone? uh-oh...not in its usual spot. Where in the hell have I left it this time???

2. Your significant other? My guess would be either shopping at the T.J. Maxx in the Mall of Eternity, or potting plants on God's patio.

3. Your hair? There's quite a bit of it, and it's currently about an inch long. No more Beethoven Hair.

4. Your mother? I'm pretty sure she's housecleaning the Universe right now.

5. Your father? He's probably puttering around in God's backyard shed, rearranging things so that not even God can find them ever, ever again.

6. Your favorite thing? A fun-filled, exhilarating, and sometimes madcap relationship with my Higher Power

7. Your dream last night? Strange you should ask. I dreamt I was in a rickety wooden shack, sweeping things out with a broom. Without realizing it, I obviously disturbed a nest of baby spiders. In the dream, I knew they were baby spiders but they were black with yellow-green spots on their backs, and about the size of half-dollars. They were crawling up my hands & arms, and I kept trying to brush them off, but there were more & more of them the more I brushed them away. I finally got them off of me. Some of them bit me, but it was more of an annoyance than a danger. Not coincidentally, I talked with someone last night about the pain she was going through after her 4th & 5th steps (personal inventory and discussing the character defects with another person). I told her that the way she was feeling was normal, and that it would pass. She told me later that she felt better. We usually do after we discuss our feelings and fears with someone else we trust.

8. Your favorite drink? Coffee, with half-and-half.

9. Your dream/goal? To help others (which helps me, paradoxically). A 1960 Chrysler Imperial (with free mechanic and endless spare parts) would be nice, too.

10. The room you’re in? A room with a view.

11. Your fear? Failing to take good actions which lead to humility. And running out of half-and-half.

12. Where do you want to be in 6 years? I don't think that far ahead. It's more fun to focus on where I am right now, and know that my needs will be fulfilled as they arise.

13. Where were you last night? At a great private dinner event with about 120 other people. My friend Constance was the chef, and the food was splendid.

14. What you’re not? Hopeless.

15. Muffins? Sure, what you got? I can make blueberry-bran muffins if you like. I have the ingredients right here.

16. One of your wish list items? A magical nose just like Samantha Stevens. I have high hopes of getting one of these quite soon.

17. Where you grew up? Virginia Beach. That's in Virginia, and there's a beach.

18. The last thing you did? Question 17.

19. What are you wearing? A yellow polo shirt and purple sweatpants.

20. Your TV? So old and small I'm surprised it doesn't have a round screen.

21. Your pet? Um, are you asking? You want to be my pet? Okay, as long as you don't eat me out of house & home.

22. Your computer? Toshiba Satellite, and it hasn't blasted off into space yet.

23. Your life? It's the only one I have. I try to make the most of it.

24. Your mood? Contented.

25. Missing someone? Not particularly. If I'm supposed to encounter someone, I usually do.

26. Your car? Very much like me. Once sleek and handsome; now old and idiosyncratic, but fairly reliable.

27. Something you’re not wearing? Socks. I'm also not wearing a fascinator.

28. Favorite store? Book stores, and really junky & cluttered antique shops.

29. Summer? Not at the moment anywhere on this hemisphere. A man in a suit just predicted snow later today. This means everyone will rush pell-mell to buy ingredients for French Toast.

30. Favorite color? It varies.

31. Why did you laugh last? Seeing a big fella seated at the next table last night whose butt crack was hanging out. It kept me from going through the buffet line a second time.

32. Why did you cry last? Hearing someone tell their personal story.

33. Who will repost this? You, perhaps?

34. A place I go over and over: My sick & twisted head. I claw my way out as soon as I realize where I've wandered, especially if I forgot to take flares.

35. Someone who emails me: Scott!

36. Place I would rather be right now: I'm okay right here at the moment, but I know I can't stay where I am for long.

The Vampire's Tomb

Last Saturday, after a yoga lesson and a morning meeting, my pal Constance & I went to brunch at The Black Sheep. This is a small restaurant in the Carver District, and the food and coffee are quite good. Since it was an exceptionally nice day, cool but sunny, we decided to walk off our meals at Hollywood Cemetery. I'll include a few pictures for you of our famous local boneyard. Some of you may recall reading about this humongous cemetery in a post from last year.


We rode through Oregon Hill, a 19th century neighborhood consisting mostly of old row houses. Within the past few years, blocks of new homes and apartments have been built in this area as well. Oregon Hill is situated next to the river and within sight of the downtown skyline, but for most of its existence was always a neighborhood for the working class. The white working class, to be specific. Within easy walking distance of the VCU campus, at least one black college student was harassed into moving out of the neighborhood when I lived in Oregon Hill back in the mid-80's. I remember how angry I was when I heard about that incident. It seems odd that one has to drive through this hardscrabble neighborhood to reach the burial ground of Presidents.


Constance & I found a place to park and began our stroll. We both enjoyed looking at the various styles of stone monuments. Finding unusual names is fun, too, and a cemetery is the perfect venue for sketching out evil schemes. The last time we went to dinner, Constance had told me about her plan to masturbate to good health and happiness. It seems she had read somewhere about the therapeutic benefits of daily masturbation, and had been giving it a try. I'm always concerned about the well-being of my friends, so I asked her how the plan was working. "Oh, I got bored at Day 17 and quit," Constance admitted disconsolately. I was glad we were taking a walk in Hollywood. There's nothing like a stroll through a sunny cemetery to lift one's spirits.


One family plot that we found interesting and, frankly, amusing was a woodsman's fantasy. The central monument was a stone tree trunk wrapped with stone vines & leaves, and the individual tombstones were stacks of logs (like bundles of firewood). While not the choice of the masses, this sort of theme was apparent in several plots scattered throughout the bucolic landscape. Not my cup of tea, but eye-catching nonetheless.


Near the edge of the bluffs a modern multi-family mausoleum still has space available. If you're sick & tired of moving, consider this for your final home. The central hall is suitable for worship or entertaining, and the terrace boasts spectacular views of the rolling river and the downtown skyline. Garden view, river view, or atrium units available. One bedroom apartments comfortably accommodate most caskets; efficiency units also offered for fancy-free crematory urns. Note: no heating or air conditioning. In our next photo, Constance contemplates the river view while deciding which unit makes her heart beat faster (or not at all).


Down below, we see a train on the CSX tracks below the bluffs. Alongside the railroad tracks, the James River and Kanawha Canal is visible. The canal was first proposed by the young George Washington when he was surveying our country and searching for a way to open a water route to the west for commercial purposes.


The canal was opened in 1790, and allowed vessels called packets to transport goods, bypassing the river rapids. Packet boats drew more water than the bateaux which were used on the James River, and were pulled by mules & horses on towpaths which flanked the canal. This photograph points out the demise of the nation's canal system; this once-promising form of transport was usurped by the locomotive. You can see a couple of walkers enjoying the old towpath.



In the photograph below, you can see the barest glimpse of the James River. Hollywood Cemetery sits on bluffs overlooking the James River rapids.

Below is the mausoleum of Lewis Ginter, the man we met in a previous post. Lewis Ginter made and lost several fortunes in Richmond.

He decided that Richmond deserved a world-class hotel, built the Jefferson Hotel in 1892, and opened the hotel in 1895. At one time, the Jefferson featured live alligators in its marble pools in the Palm Court. Margaret Mitchell stayed at the hotel while writing Gone With The Wind, and it is said that the magnificent marble staircase in the lobby was the inspiration for the one described in Scarlett's Atlanta mansion. There is a long-standing but false rumor that the Jefferson's staircase was used in the film. Today, the Jefferson is recognized with Mobil's Five Star rating and AAA's Five Diamonds.

Since it is my understanding that Mr. Ginter never married, and was a man of impeccable taste and vision, it is my personal belief that he must have been gay. He rests alone in the structure below which overlooks the James River.



Then we have this old girl, typical of cemetery monuments of the era. There are more stone angels in Hollywood Cemetery than you could chase off with a stick.



At last we come to the moment you've been waiting for! The Vampire's Tomb!
Yes, Virginia, there is a vampire. Indeed, Richmond does have a legendary hometown bloodsucker, but he does not exist in the tomb pictured below. He lives at the intersection of False Rumor Boulevard and Wild Imagination Way. True or make-believe, it's fun to point out W.W. Pool's tomb to visitors, because it is a creepy spot in the cemetery. From the sad little lamb at the top of the crypt, to the rusty iron & glass door beyond the iron outer gate, Goth wannabes and Anne Rice fans would be well-pleased with a picnic on W.W. Pool's banquette.


The outer iron door used to be unlocked, so you could step inside the ante-chamber of the tomb. Inside this vestibule, there is an inner door with an ancient lock, and an aperture above this doorway gives a view into the dim burial chamber. This opening only works for tall people, or folks that find something to stand on. Nowadays, the outer door is secured, but you can still peer through the ironwork. Below is the opening between the vestibule and the inner crypt. The upper part of the rusted door frame is visible at the bottom of the photograph. (Edit: I added a photo of the door below the mysterious opening, so you get a fairly good idea of how the whole picture looks at the entrance to the burial chamber. The hexagonal glass pieces fitted into the oxidized muntins were painted long ago, perhaps to foil curiousity seekers)



So, how did the notion of a local vampire spring forth? In 1925, the Church Hill Tunnel along the C&O Railroad track collapsed on a train, killing several workers. One man, a fireman named Ben Mosby, escaped from the tunnel horribly burned by the ruptured steam engine. He died later at Grace Hospital. Somehow, this sad story morphed into the legend of a vampire with jagged teeth and torn skin hanging from his body who was seen disappearing into the tomb of W.W. Pool, as if the actual train disaster weren't horrible enough. The train still rests in the collapsed tunnel, despite attempts to dig it free and retrieve the remaining bodies. The tunnel was ordered to be sealed, leaving inside a steam locomotive and ten flatcars.