DC Like a Local

Once Arlington had shed it's slave-day past, and the last freed slaves had left Freedman's Village, the area fell into the rhythms of a military cemetery. Although serving in a largely segregated military, African Americans would be among some of the earliest soldiers and sailors to be be buried in the new cemetery. Reflecting its early use as a cemetery of convenience, many African American solders from the Civil War are often interspersed with white soldiers, although attempts were made to segregate them. A black soldier's grave can be identified as it will have U.S.C.T after the name, for U.S. Colored Troops. These graves are generally in Sections 27 (the same location as the graves of residents of Freedman's Village, discussed yesterday) and 23 (near the Confederate Memorial ironically).

Following the war, African Americans continued to serve and Civil War veterans continued to die, both to be buried at Arlington. Major Alexander Augusta, one of only a hundred black officers (out of 180,000 who served), is buried in Section 1 (site 124-A), near the Ft. Myer chapel where many funerals are held (and where I was married). Last year, one of 20 Buffalo Soldiers to receive the Medal of Honor was interred in Section 1 (site 630-B) after it was discovered his grave in Arizona had, I kid you not, been paved over. Cpl. Issiah Mays, a former slave, was awarded the Medal for crawling more than two miles to get help after his convey had been ambushed in 1889. He had been shot in both legs. Two other African American Medal of Honor recipients from this time period are buried her as well, Pvt. Dennis Bell (Sec 31/site 349) and Master Sergeant George Wanton (Sec 4/site 2749). They were two of four soldiers from the 10th Calvary Regiment to go ashore under hostile fire to save allied Cuban insurgents during the Spanish-American War. Additionally, 22 of the 163 sailors buried at Arlington from the explosion on the USS Maine are black. They are all buried in Section 24, near the mast of the Maine.

Ironically, by the time the United States had entered World War I, racial progress in many ways had slipped from where it had been in the late nineteenth century. While African Americans were routinely assigned to combat units in the Civil War, Indian Wars, and Spanish American Wars; by World War I they were largely restricted to labor and supply units. When they did serve in combat, their contributions were often overlooked. Only one Medal of Honor was awarded to an African American, and that was not until posthumously in 1991.

One African American from that time to be buried at Arlington is Colonel Charles Young (Sec 3/site 1730-B). The first African American to hold that rank, Col. Young was the third black man to graduate West Point, the first African American to be the superintendent of a National Park (Sequoia), and a squadron commander in Gen. Pershing's raid into Mexico to chase Pancho Villa. At the outbreak of World War I, Col. Taylor was suddenly discovered to have high blood pressure, and medically discharged, presumably to avoid having to make him a general in the wartime expansion. After riding his horse from Ohio to DC to prove his physical fitness, Col. Taylor was reinstated but died in Nigeria while serving as an advisor to Liberia in 1922. Col. Taylor's funeral service was in the Memorial Amphitheater, one of only a handful of services to be held there.

Following the relegation to secondary roles in World War I, African American leaders insisted that black soldiers be assigned meaningful roles in World War II. Perhaps best known of these, but by no means the only, was the Tuskegee Airmen. The Army Air Force created an all-black fighter group, the 332 Fighter Group, eventually commanded by Gen. Benjamin O. Davis, Jr.  General Davis was the fourth African American to graduate from West Point in 1936 (the first since Col. Taylor), and was shunned by his fellow cadets the entire four years there. When he graduated, he would be one of only two African-American line officers in the U.S. Army; the other being his father, then Col. Benjamin Davis, Sr. Col. Davis, Sr. would go onto be be the first black General in the U.S. Army, capping off his forty two years of military service as a Brigadier General. Gen. Davis, Jr. would be promoted to full General after his retirement under President Clinton.

However the title of first African American full General would go to Air Force Gen. Daniel "Chappie" James. Gen. James would go on to serve in an integrated military after his start as a Tuskegee Airmen, flying combat missions in Korea and Vietnam. He was awarded his forth star in 1975. Gen. James, Gen. Davis, Jr., and BGen. Davis, Sr., are all buried in close proximity to each other in Section 2, just past the statue of Sir John Dill on Roosevelt Drive. Gen. James is to your right, and the Davis's are across the road to your left. Gen. Davis, Jr. has a large black tombstone on the top of the hill, and BGen. Davis, Sr. has a government issue headstone between the top and the road. Further up the drive, just below the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier, in Section 7a (site 18), is Gen. Roscoe Robinson, the first black Army four star General.

This is hardly meant to be an exhaustive list of African Americans who have served in the military and are buried in Arlington, but it includes some whose stories intrigue me. Join us tomorrow when we wrap up our visit to Arlington by looking at some folks buried here who are best known for what they did out of uniform.

Section 27 by M.V. Jantzen

As I'm sure most of you know, February is Black History Month, a tradition started by DC's own Carter G. Woodson. Now, since Dr. Woodson established what was then known as Negro History Week in 1926, there has been discussion and debate as to whether the observance creates ade facto segregation of our view of history. Imagine for a moment visiting Mt. Vernon and being told, "In February, we discuss the lives of the slaves and free blacks on the plantation, and for the other eleven months we discuss the history of George Washington." Silly, and of course not at all how the folks at Mt. Vernon handle the topic. But it can be instructive to take some time to focus on a segment of our past that was often overlooked, and in that vein, we'll take a little time to examine a standard part of the DC tour in a new light.

There are many attractions in the DC area where it's possible to focus in greater depth on the African-American experience (and we hope that Dr. Woodson's house will soon be one of those). But for today I'd like to focus on a site which most people consider a must-see in your trip to Washington, but is not normally thought of in the context of African-American history: Arlington National Cemetery.

African Americans at Arlington of course long predates it's development as a National Cemetery. As a working plantation, Arlington used slaves to work the fields, perform manual tasks, and even to build the house that you see today. George Washington's adopted son George Washington ParkeCustis family brought slaves over from Mt. Vernon in 1802 when he built the farm. The Custis family at times owned hundreds of slave on their various farms, but unlike normal practice, gave them a basic education and even ordered all of his slaves to be freed upon the death of George Washington Parke Custis.. However, the will's executor, his son-in-law Robert E. Lee, read the document to mean freeing the slaves five years from his death, and used their labor to work the plantation until then, even going so far as to as to have three runaways chased down and possibly whipped. Eventually, the last slaves at Arlington on December 29, 1862 were formally freed, two months and nineteen days after the five year mark of Custis's death.

Some remnants of slave life on the plantation remain for visitors to witness. Behind Arlington House lies slave quarters, or at least those of the more favored house servants. Most notable among them was Selena Grey, the personal maid to Mary Custis Lee, the wife of Robert E. Lee. Mary Lee was quite infirm, and close proximity to the house was required so that Selena could tend to her. It would be Selena's children who would provide critical details in the 1929-30 restoration of Arlington House that ensure the site we see today resembles the original.

While Selena and her husband would leave Arlington after the war, one man bridged the gap between Southern plantation and military cemetery. Another of the 63 slaves owned by the Custis-Lee family, James Parks, was, we think, about 18 years old when the Lees abandoned Arlington to head south. He remained at the site when it was occupied by Union soldiers and after the war became a grave digger and maintenance man around the Cemetery, a position he held until 1925. Upon his death in 1929, the Secretary of War, Henry Stimson, gave special permission for Mr. Parks to be buried in Section 15, near the gate to Ft. Myer and, ironically, just across the road from the Confederate Memorial. Interestingly enough, while his owners, the Custis's, are both buried at a family plot in the Cemetery, neither was born here; making James Parks the only person to be both born and buried at Arlington National Cemetery.

Obviously, once the Civil War started, the situation at Arlington rapidly changed. By the time Lee formally freed his slaves, events had overtaken him and the farm was occupied by Union troops. As Washington became an armed camp, "contrabands", or slaves freed by Union troops fled to the city. Additionally, the slaves of Washington, DC were freed by the Compensated Emancipation Act on April 16, 1862, the nations only attempt to pay people to free slaves. To deal with this the Federal government set up several camps in the area, and used the grounds of the Lee plantation to build a model village, known as Freedman's Village. The Village was administered by the Freedman's Bureau until 1883 and no trace of it remains today. It is believed to have stood on what is now Eisenhower Drive, in sections 8/47/25. There are tentative plans to build a Black Heritage Museum of Arlington on property just outside of Arlington National Cemetery, which would help tell the story of Freedman's Village.

Up to 1,100 people lived on the site, and it grew to include log homes, churches, schools, and even a 50 bed hospital. While somewhat rustic and initially under somewhat strict military discipline, the inhabitants at Freedman's Village did fare better than their counterparts in camps within DC. However, in the thirty years free blacks lived at the site, some 3,800 died and were buried in Section 27, just along the edge of the Cemetery near the Iwo Jima Memorial. Their graves are marked as "citizen" or "civilian", and it is the largest section of non-military graves in Arlington. They are still visible today, although a bit off the normal tour.

We'll call it a day for now, but join us tomorrow when we explore more about the African-American legacy of Arlington National Cemetery.

Oh great, like we needed more people crowding the Gems exhibit. We're a month out from crazy school trip tourist season and the Smithsonian's Museum of Natural History decides to trot out another giant, incredibly rare, brilliant blue diamond. Like it's not packed enough.

Seriously though, tomorrow the almost incomparable Wittelsbach-Graff Blue diamond will go on display in the Harry S. Winston Gallery.  Almost, but not quite incomparable, as just a few steps away is its comparatively dull cousin, the Hope diamond. There are so few blue diamonds that exist in the world, and of those, most are under a caret. For just over six months visitors to Washington will have the rare chance to actually compare two of the largest blue diamonds in the world.

Now I'm going to assume that, like myself, you didn't read the Winter 2008 issue of Gems and Gemology (pdf) from cover to cover; so let me briefly summarize for you. The diamond, traditionally known as the Wittelsbach Blue, is named after its long time owner, the royal family of Bavaria, the House of Wittelsbach (yeah, like you knew that either). Like the Hope, it has been presumed to have come from the Golconda region of India, possibly brought to Europe by the same dealer, Jean Baptiste Tavernier (who was not, despite the stories, torn apart by wild dogs). The diamond was passed around the royal houses of Europe until it lodged itself with the Wittelsbach family in Bavaria. All fine and good until after World War I, when Bavaria ended its monarchy. The Wittelsbachs, who must not have had eligible daughters to marry off to rich Americans, were forced to sell off the diamond.

Things become sketchy here, and the Wittelsbach Blue entered the world of professional diamond traders who are, as we understand, well known for their transparency. The diamond was last seen in 1964 and disappeared entirely until November of 2008, when it appeared at auction at Christie's. It was purchased by London jeweler Lawrence Graff for $24.3 million. Graff made the somewhat controversial decision to cut the 35.52 caret gem down to 31.06 carets, to improve its clarity, cut, and brilliance. As you might have figured out, this is where the diamond was renamed, to its current title of Wittelsbach-Graff Blue. Graff Diamonds is loaning he gem to the Smithsonian for display and study.

Now, there has been much historical speculation that the Wittelsbach-Graff (fun to say, isn't it!) was cut from the same crystal as the Hope diamond. A few days ago, scientists from the Smithsonian, Naval Research Laboratory, and the Gem Institute of America found that

While the observations revealed many similarities, some clear differences in their properties were recognized. Microscopic examination of the Hope diamond with crossedpolarizers showed distinctly banded internal strain, in contrast to a typical "tatami" patter displayed by the Wittelsbach-Graff. In the DiamondView deep-ultraviolet luminescence imaging system, both diamonds showed well-developed dislocation networks with moderate-to-strong fluorescence throughout the entire stone; however, the scale of the network patterns differed significantly.

Got that? Me neither. I understood each word, but the whole thing makes no sense to me. In other words (I guess), they're saying the Hope and the Wittelsbach-Graff are not cut from the same crystal. As Dr. Cristián Samper, the director of Museum of Natural History put it, they're "not brother or sister, but distant cousins."

The diamond will be on display until August 1, 2010. If you have a chance, I'd go now. Because the place is going to be overrun in about a month with school kids sent there by their tour guide. Sorry about that, by the way.

Location matters when you're selling your house, and it matters when you're locating your museum. For example, the Smithsonian's Udvar-Hazy center racks up only a fraction of it's older cousin on the Mall, the National Air and Space Museum. This is largely due to its virtually unreachable location (for most tourists and many locals), as Udvar-Hazy has a far superior collection and display space, in my opinion. And there's also the emotionally impact of placing a Museum on such symbolic real estate; witness the stated desire to place the Holocaust Memorial Museum, the National Museum of the American Indian, and the soon-to-be-built Museum of African-American History and Culture in close proximity to the seat of American power. Where a public museum goes says a lot about our priorities, about what we think is important, and where and how we choose to examine it.

But for all that, Museums are inherently inward looking. While a well designed museum will seek to integrate itself into its environment, and good design strengthens the fabric of the city around it, the actual content of the museum generally has very little to do with the surrounding blocks. At best, you might get a few good vistas and a window or two, but for the actual content itself, the Museum could be in Des Moines. Although admittedly some museums, such as the Holocaust Memorial Museum, work best when they separate you from your daily existence.

But occasionally the city of Washington manages to worm its way in. The National Museum of Natural History, in particular, deserves credit for a few well-crafted exhibits that tie the static display in front of us with the world that lies just outside the window. Three specifically are worthy of our attention today.

If you go up to the second floor, you'll see what might be the best known single artifact in the Natural History Museum: the Hope Diamond, which has a fascinating DC history tale of its own (a story for another day). For every visitor who spends ten minutes jostling the crowds to snap a picture of the diamond, only a few will spend the time perusing the attendant Geology, Gems and Minerals exhibit (I know, I know, only so much time). But take a walk about halfway through, and you will come to a broad picture window overlooking the eastern end of the Museum, with an excellent shot of the Capitol. You'll come to the Rocks Build Cities exhibit, where you can learn why we give a crap about geology. I've been able to really bore my eighth graders now that I know a little more about what all these buildings are made of.

For a more dynamic exhibit, wander over to the O. Orkin Insect Zoo, where, despite the name, there are actually live insects. Often, you will find docents and staff members there to tell you about our many-legged friends, and if you hit it right, to handle them. Check their site for feeding times for the tarantulas, when they sacrifice unruly children to the tiny terrors (kidding, but wouldn't that be awesome?). But if you look out the south facing window, you will see that the exhibit has a real bee hive, with actual bees off to gather pollen along the Mall. Remember the spot, and see if you can't find it when you exit the building. I wonder what they do with the honey? Make mead with it and have wild late night entomologist parties?

And finally, go through my favorite exhibit and you will end up in the tail end of the delightfully-dated Western Cultures hall. While here, you'll be able to solve the decades old puzzle: what kind of column is it: Corinthian, Doric, or Ionic? Hopefully, the fact that you can look out the window at the neoclassical Federal Triangle buildings will help reinforce this little factoid in your head, so that some day you can dominate at Trivial Pursuit.

And, on that note, I'll leave you to explore the rest of the Museum.

Word is filtering down today that the National Archives will be banning photography come February 24th (we saw it on the Post via WeLoveDC). According to their notice in the Federal Register, the Archives "seeks to ensure the necessary protection for the documents from the cumulative effects of photographic flash and to enhance the overall visitor experience."

Now we aren't going to quibble with the first part of their explanation. The Declaration of Independence, Constitution, Bill of Rights, etc. are priceless national treasures (I don't care if Nic Cage says so too, they are!) and the American people are going to hold the Archives responsible for their condition. If too many visitors' flashes are going off, so be it. I tell my groups on the bus, most of my teachers re-iterate it, the guards at the door tell visitors, and we're reminded before we go into the Rotunda. And yet, I still have a handful every year that don't get the message. So if this is what has to happen, ok then.

But I don't buy the second part. As quoted in the Register, "NARA does not believe that this rule will create problems for tourists. The agency believes this rule creates a better visitor experience." Now, this rule will, quite frankly, create a better tour guide experience for me. But I fail to see how this is better for visitors. There are three places that every group kills my time-line getting the same shot: here, the White House, and from the steps of the Lincoln Memorial looking east. I used to rail against this, try to hurry them along, bemused at these silly tourists and frustrated at the havoc they are wrecking with my schedule.

And then it dawned on me, as it has failed to do with the National Archives: this is the experience they are here to get, not my feeble attempts. Its my problem, not theirs; hurrying along trying to cross things off a list. So what if ten thousand people this month have already got the same shot? Or that a simple flickr search can get dozens of the same image? Or, as the Archives so patronizingly says, " the National Archives Shop has facsimiles of various sizes and price ranges available for purchase". None of these get it. The point is, that these cheesy pictures have served to make the visit real and theirs to hundreds of thousands of Americans every year. It's a connection they both communally and individually achieve. Now we'll all just file by, respectful and silent. Like at a tomb.

And also, speaking as someone reasonably familiar with the ways of Washington, it is supremely cheesy to slip this out in the Federal Register. A sixty day comment period only announced in the Register? Come on, that's weak. Like I said, if it has to happen for preservation reasons, most of us can support that. Why not announce it then? Did you think we wouldn't notice? There's a reason only three people commented; no one saw it! We expect better, Archives. I can't help but notice that your website still does not reflect this change.

The National Archives is an incredible institution, one of my favorite places to visit. This was poorly handled.