The New Founders

by Joseph F. Connor

  As the cars filled up at an Exxon station, Hahn stewed. Because of present company, he kept his growing irritation with Anders to himself. Although he enjoyed the Anders radio show every evening, Hahn was tiring of Anders “running the show” and felt the urge to give the pompous know-it-all a piece of his mind. As head trader at The Bank of New York, one of the most prestigious currency trading desks in the world, Hahn was used to being in charge and giving orders. He was out of his element and he did not like it. But for the time being, he agreed to keep his Caribbean blood at a simmer as he observed his new acquaintances following along.

  Jenson, always one to keep the peace, simply smiled and interrupted Hahn’s train of thought.

  “Thanks, Anders, that’s a great hotel. I think a ride around the city is a good idea. We can show George the memorials and drive by the Washington Monument.”

  Jenson suggested they park the cars while they got out and stretched their legs before dinner, noting the White House was only a few blocks from the Willard. Mr. Washington agreed, stating he enjoyed the comfort of the limo during the daylight heat, but would prefer an evening walk around the sights of DC while the sun set.

  “Perhaps our inspiration will find us this evening, but more likely in the morn when we are better rested.”

  The group agreed to George’s plan. After all, thought Jack, how could they not? Murray had noticed Mr. Washington was indeed a man of humility and of few words. But like other great leaders, his words had purpose, inspiring others. Jack thought of great athletes, such as Michael Jordan and Joe Montana, who quietly made those around them better. There was no doubt George had that affect on this little team.

  George quietly observed as each driver monitored the nozzles attached to their vehicles.

  Mr. Washington noticed Murray reaching over and taking the hand of his beautiful wife and placing his left hand on young Todd’s curly hair as he sat on the floor of the van. Dottie squeezed Jack’s hand and their eyes met briefly. In that moment, Dottie thought she saw in Jack the contentment of a man whose restless search may have finally been quenched. She had always been proud of her husband, but now the promise of greatness she had seen in him from the day they met was being brought to the forefront by a ghost from the past.

  It was hard to comprehend. Dottie’s little family woke up the day before, like millions of other so-called ordinary American families. Less than thirty-six hours later, she was no longer certain of anything. The absurdity and immensity of it all had not sunk in yet. But she was more than okay with it, embracing the phenomenon that brought the group together.

  As the thought crossed her mind, Mr. Washington was deep in his own thoughts. He had been sitting quietly, watching the men connect the gasoline hoses to the respective tanks. Just another incredible technological advance he had witnessed, an occurrence that had become commonplace over the last seven hours. He tired of watching the dollar signs on the computer display add up, and now turned his attention to the Murrays. George knew Providence had plans for him and the men, but not knowing the grand plan gnawed at the General.

  Seeing the Murrays holding hands and rubbing the head of their son, made George long for his old life, the sounds and smells of Mount Vernon, and his beloved Martha who made it her business to be with her “old man” as much as she could (even during the darkest days of the revolution). But she was not part of his new life now. Here, in the city that he helped design, in the country he founded, surrounded by his new confidants, he suddenly felt alone. He was snapped out of his thoughts as they exited the station and made their way back onto New York Ave. Anders’ familiar voice once again permeated through the van, announcing that they would be passing the President’s Mansion, now known as the White House. George was impressed at every turn. He recalled that eons ago he had laid the cornerstones for the ten by ten mile city. That was in another life, another age….

  Sensing George’s thoughts, Hahn broke the silence. “General Washington, as you may recall, the White House has been the home and office of the president since our second president, John Adams.”

  Looking over at Murray, Hahn continued by mentioning that it was burned during Madison’s presidency and the War of 1812, but rebuilt after the war. “It’s been remodeled a lot over the years but has remained the president’s home ever since, even during the Civil War.” Hahn reveled in George’s undivided attention. “You may have noticed that DC is not the perfectly shaped 100 square mile city that you designed with L’Enfant. During the Civil War, when Virginia seceded, they took parts of the city, as well as Arlington and Alexandria.”

  Mr. Washington nodded as he gazed upon the White House.

  Anders asked the drivers to stop in front of the manicured lawn before the Washington Monument. George watched through the tinted windows as tourists, equipped with maps, communications devices, and bottled water, stood in the long queue just to get the chance to reach the top of the imposing tower. George could not help but be profoundly humbled by the idea of these citizens, born hundreds of years after his death, remembering him, much less honoring him by visiting the city and monument that bore his name.

  “Why is the stone of two shades?”

  Murray enthusiastically answered, that at the time of the Civil War, the builders ran out of that kind of marble and granite and had to stop building it. “After the war, they started again, but had to use a slightly different color of stone.”

  “How appropriate,” uttered Mr. Washington, “that these states, after the war, bore a more appropriate shade of liberty than they had before. So too should the monument. I would like to proceed to the Lincoln Memorial if we may. I think it will help me grasp the profound impact of this war between the states.”

  Since learning of the Civil War earlier in the day, George had been thinking about Lincoln. He was haunted by Lincoln’s deeply lined and weary face. What kind of a man was he? Did George and his founding brothers fail? Lincoln was not a founder, but perhaps he was more of a founder than the revolutionaries themselves. George sensed Providence would reveal her intentions at the memorial to this great man.

  Anders and Jenson asked the drivers to proceed west to the Lincoln Memorial. Parking was always problematic in DC, especially during the summer tourist season, so it was decided that the drivers would quickly drop off each carload and circle the National Mall while the new founders visited the memorial.

  Old George was truly a quick study. He moved quickly from the van, pulled Todd’s cap down over his eyes, and led the team up the marble steps. Looking around quickly, Josh scanned the crowd. He breathed a sigh of relief, confident the handful of tourists still mulling around would not disturb their visit.

  Jenson had spent as much time as he could in DC over the years and was fluent in the history of most of the monuments and memorials. As a Virginia State Representative, he had participated in many DC events, including multiple CPAC conventions, seminars, and one inaugural ball for George W. Bush. He even broadcasted his radio show from these very steps once before.

  As the group climbed the many steps toward the statue itself, Jenson, sounding like a tour guide, filled the group in on its history.

  “The Lincoln Memorial stands as a neoclassical monument to the sixteenth president. It was designed by Henry Bacon, after ancient Greek temples, and stands 190 feet long, 119 feet wide, and almost 100 feet high. It is surrounded by a peristyle of thirty-eight fluted Doric columns, one for each of the thirty-six states in the Union at the time of Lincoln’s death, and two columns in antis at the entrance behind the colonnade.”

  This initial description drew Mr. Washington’s attention among others. His mind then drifted momentarily to his own death and wondered if he was interned with Martha at Mt. Vernon as he had requested. His mind now back to the matter at hand, the General looked to Jenson to continue.

  “The north and south side chambers contain carved inscriptions of Lincoln’s Second Inaugural Address and his Gettysburg Address.”

  Jenson
described these speeches as two of the finest pieces of oratory in American history. The Second Inaugural Address was given toward the end of the Civil War. The Gettysburg Address was a brief but wholly powerful message delivered during the war, November 19, 1863, on the very site of the most bloody of all battles, Gettysburg, Pennsylvania.

  Jenson, too, enjoyed his moment before Mr. Washington, noting that Lincoln offered the speech to honor the dead and, as he said, “To consecrate that very battlefield in Pennsylvania to those who gave their lives that their country might live.”

  Mr. Washington, thinking the background was complete, turned toward the statue and started to make his way inside. The group turned and followed as Jenson concluded his illustration.

  “This has been the site of many very large public protests and gatherings over the years, including one of the most famous speeches in American history—the “I have a dream” speech delivered here by a black man, Martin Luther King Jr. in 1963, one hundred years after Lincoln.”

  Tim was rolling and went on to explain how King, fighting for equal rights for blacks 100 years after the emancipation, delivered the famous words, “I have a dream that my four little children will one day live in a nation where they will not be judged by the color of their skin but by the content of their character.”

  The quote made Mr. Washington stop in his tracks. He did not turn back but only listened as he looked up at the stone face of the sixteenth president.

  “Mr. President, I believe we have reached a point in this country where the dreams of you, Mr. Lincoln, and Dr. King have been realized.”

  The group now found themselves under the cover of the Memorial’s ceiling. They mingled with the small group of tourists that remained in the late afternoon. Mr. Washington could not take his eyes off Lincoln. He noticed the inscription above the statue that read:

  IN THIS TEMPLE

  AS IN THE HEARTS OF THE PEOPLE

  FOR WHOM HE SAVED THE UNION

  THE MEMORY OF ABRAHAM LINCOLN

  IS ENSHRINED FOREVER

  Dottie saw the depth in Mr. Washington’s character through his forlorn eyes as he studied the reflective sixteenth president who had the weight of the world on his shoulders.

  Jack, too, saw the goodness in this great man, watching, George wince and wipe his eyes several times as he saw in Mr. Lincoln much of the same pain and uncertainty Mr. Washington himself had faced in those few quiet moments during the war and the establishment of the republic. Mr. Washington saw a man in Lincoln who probably understood him better than his closest friends, a man who, like himself, led millions, yet felt very alone. He saw a man who steadfastly stared ahead, knowing his decisions and actions to be not only difficult, but right and just. He focused on Lincoln’s left hand clenched in a fist. He knew this man was strong enough in his beliefs to do what was right against all consequences.

  George looked to the left wall facing Lincoln and read the surprisingly brief Gettysburg Address. He smiled proudly as he read the first sentence of the famous address, a sentence that was directed toward him and the original founders. He choked up as he mouthed the words, “Four score and seven years ago our fathers brought forth on this continent a new nation, conceived in liberty and dedicated to the proposition that all men are created equal.”

  He thought to himself that this president had summed up all the founders original ideas for a new nation in one glorious passage.

  As Mr. Washington finished reading, he looked around. While the others went to and fro, the Murrays followed the father of our country. Jack noted that Mr. Washington read the powerful speech a second time. He stayed at Mr. Washington’s side as the president moved unannounced to the opposite side of the memorial to read Mr. Lincoln’s concise Second Inaugural address, delivered March 4, 1865:

  Fellow Countrymen:

  At this second appearing to take the oath of the presidential office, there is less occasion for an extended address than there was at the first….

  With malice toward none; with charity for all; with firmness in the right, as God gives us to see the right, let us strive on to finish the work we are in, to bind up the nation’s wounds; to care for him who shall have borne the battle, and for his widow, and his orphan—to do all which may achieve and cherish a just, and a lasting peace, among ourselves, and with all nations.

  Mr. Washington read this speech a second time as well. He stayed on the final stanza, repeating this several times out loud to the delight of a few loiterers. He then asked that they return to the coach and go back to the inn to rest before dinner. Anders was immediately on the phone to the drivers, instructing them to pick up the team at the base of the steps. All started down, looking forward to checking in to the hotel for a respite, reflecting on these extraordinary events and hopefully enjoying a good dinner.

  Chapter 12

  Having finished washing and dressing, the group stood patiently outside the elevator door that serviced the two suites in which they were staying. However, Mr. Washington could not contain himself and carried on about the latest product that mankind invented in the time following his death: the shower.

  Dottie couldn’t squelch her laughter. He apologized profusely for being immodest but went on anyway about the delights of spraying warm water over one’s whole body. Dottie had to look the other way as George talked about the great lather from twenty-first century soap. Jack read her mind, laughing at what a guy, who had been dead for over 200 years, might think of lathery soap in a shower.

  George finished his fascinating theories on hygiene by saying if there were showers in the eighteenth century, he would have bathed nearly every day. Dottie whispered to Jack that she bet he would.

  Todd Murray turned to his mother with a questionable look and mouthed the words, “Nearly every day?” Dot put her index finger up to her mouth to tell Todd to stay quiet for the time being. He looked down and shook his head as a bell rang and the elevator doors opened. The group moved as one into the elevator. Mr. Washington cautiously entered the metal enclosure.

  “Mr. President,” Hahn said, chuckling. “You rode the elevator up with us to get to the rooms. You did it once, there’s nothing to be nervous about.” Mr. Washington, looking around and toward the ceiling of the elevator, glanced back at Hahn and nodded.

  George naturally denied he was scared but just not used to being with a group of people in such close confines supported by a single metal cable hundreds of feet above the earth’s surface.

  Mr. Washington then turned his glance straight ahead at the door as a hush came over the group. And when the elevator doors opened, Anders led them to a private room with a separate entrance from the main restaurant. Mr. Washington was the last to enter the dining room. Each looked around and soaked in the ambiance as Mr. Washington made his way to the head of the table and put his hand on the back of the chair. Jack noted that he stood as if to be posing for a portrait while Anders instructed everybody to take a seat at the table. A waiter appeared and asked which drinks they preferred, then went around the table, one person at a time, and took their drink orders. When he reached Mr. Washington, he asked for ale. When the waiter asked which brand, he shot a look at Hahn. A voice from the other side of the table answered the question.

  “You can bring him a Sam Adams lager and make it a draught,” ordered Anders, as the waiter scribbled the instruction and left the room. Mr. Washington looked at Anders with a big grin.

  “So the famous Adams Ale survives.”

  A second waiter appeared and described the prix fixe menu selections. He went person to person taking orders, which went more smoothly than the drink orders. Once the second waiter left the room, Mr. Washington turned and addressed the troops.

  “My dear friends, this gathering is very impressive, first class in its opulence. I look forward to the arrival of our meal. But while we wait, let’s pass the time by telling me a little about yourselves. The charming Mrs. Murray, if you do not mind.”

  Mr. Washington leaned in, his
chin resting on his arm and fist, as Dot described her early childhood in Philadelphia, adolescence in North Carolina, and college years at Chapel Hill. She skipped over her late first husband, Todd’s birth father, and focused on the two most important events in her life—Todd’s birth and meeting Jack. The mention of giving birth to her son raised a few eyebrows as most thought that Todd was adopted by the couple. But as Dottie moved on to describe her courtship with Jack, the men followed along.

  Dottie finished her self-biography by describing her joy in entertaining and hosting parties at the Murray home. Mr. Washington attentively and respectfully listened to every word. With Dot’s story complete, George turned to her son.

  “Master Todd, if you please.”

  Todd was somewhat tongue-tied as he began, but told the group about his fourteen years, focusing on his love of sports and his plans for a summer filled with baseball and lacrosse. He was done within two minutes and Mr. Washington thanked him. He then turned to Jenson and asked him to begin again.

  “Mr. Jenson, you spoke earlier about your upbringing and the splendid support group provided by your friends and family as you chased your dreams. Please continue.”

  Jenson was astonished that the President had actually listened in the car, let alone recalled the detail about his circle of friends. He recommenced the story of his life, talking in great detail about his interests in history, science, music, politics and sports. He explained how the Vietnam War and the Watergate hearings left an impression on him at a young age, an impression that remained with him throughout his teens and twenties. It also made teenaged Tim begin to question government and authority more and more, something that Mr. Washington duly took note of.