Jackson, Mississippi

I left New Orleans on a Sunday and began driving north. It was a beautiful day and the southern sun was beaming down from the heavens as the road disappeared beneath our tires. It was sort of bittersweet, leaving New Orleans; I had discovered there a kind of freedom of expression that is rare, yet contagious. I knew one day I’d make it back there, but for now, we had to move on.

Right over the state border, I saw a bumper sticker on the back of a red pick-up that said, “Gun control can’t fix stupid,” just as I passed the sign declaring, “Welcome to Mississippi.” I knew right away that this was going to be a very different place from the one that I grew up in, and in some ways, I felt like a stranger in my own country.

The following day was brightened by my visit to the Capitol. I found convenient parking right outside, and entered through the rear door. When I made it to the Tours and Information Desk, I learned that the next tour was starting in about fifteen minutes, so I walked around the ground floor of the building. There were portraits of past Governors lining the hallways of this classically designed building. An opening the ceiling revealed a glimpse of a breathtaking rotunda, illuminated by hundreds of lights. I could see that the marble and detailed painting was positively gorgeous, but I couldn’t get the full impression until I went upstairs.

Just a few minutes later, a young, clean-cut man walked over and introduced himself as my tour guide. Because I was the only visitor at the moment, I was blessed with the opportunity of a private tour. He began with a few general facts about the building. It was completed in 1903 and designed by Missouri architect Theodore Link. It stands at 180 feet, and the rotunda contains a total of 750 lights. Link wanted to put as much natural and artificial light throughout the building as possible, and so it became the emphasis of his design. Once a year, maintenance puts up a giant ladder and changes out all of the bulbs that have burned out, a process that takes the entire day.

Next, we walked out to the front of the building to look at the outside of the grand entranceway. Like many other Capitols, there was an immense grand staircase leading up to the soaring portico and columns framing the front doors. There is an area beneath the grand staircase with more practical doors than those that we had just exited from. There, vehicles can drop off legislators or other individuals while still protecting them from the elements. High above, atop the dome, there was a gold-covered copper eagle, standing eight feet tall and fifteen feet across. It was a truly handsome building, and one to be proud of.

We ventured back inside and upstairs, where I got my first uninhibited view of the rotunda. It was positively gorgeous, expansive, and bright. Blue and red were prominently featured colors, with red-tinged scagliola columns. Scagliola is made of different kinds of plaster mixed together and hardened to look like marble. In the early part of the 20th century when many State Capitols were being built, scagliola was a more economical alternative to marble, but due to the complex process and a lack of skilled craftsman to make it, scagliola is now more expensive than real marble. The only way one can tell them apart is by touching it. Marble is harder and usually cool to the touch, while scagliola is typically closer to room temperature.

The Governor’s office stands on the 3rd floor, overlooking the rotunda. Governor Phil Bryant chooses to keep his ceremonial office closed to public tours, despite the fact that his daily working office is in a completely different building. Our guide said that in the entire time that he had been working at the Capitol, which was the better part of a year, he had never seen the inside of it. At many other Capitols that I have visited, the Governor will allow public tours to view the ceremonial office if he or she does not also use it as a working office. It seemed a little strange to me that Governor Bryant did not extend that courtesy to his taxpayers, given that his daily working office was in an entirely different building.

We moved on to the Supreme Court Chamber, which has been used as a Committee room ever since the Supreme Court moved to their new building across the street. It is not an enormous room, but because of its white walls, ceiling, and floor, it gives the impression of being larger than it really is. I noticed that the door handles were simply decorated with a letter ‘M’ for Mississippi, as well as a mosaic forming another, much larger ‘M’ in the center of the tile floor. The decorations weren’t overly extravagant, but pleasant and tasteful just the same.

After seeing the Supreme Court Chamber, we walked to the Senate Chamber, which my guide told me was his favorite out of the two. It had a large atrium, with signs declaring dress code and chamber rules at the doors on either side. The chamber itself was beautiful, one of the more attractive ones so far. Above in the domed ceiling, a fabulous stained glass window allowed sunlight to shine onto the desks below. Behind the President of the Senate’s desk, a stunning backdrop of several different kinds of marble and scagliola stole the show. The desk itself was beautiful as well, made of a deep, lustrous wood. The Senator’s Chairs looked extremely comfortable, with thick cushions and high backs to support one’s head while sitting through long hours of debate and presentations. They seemed much more desirable than the hard, wooden seats that many other states provided for their legislators. The only thing that I did not like about the room was the carpet, which was a loud, complex design that looked as if it belonged back in a time of poor stylistic decision-making. My guide said that he believed it was put in during an extensive renovation in the 1980s, which would certainly explain the dreadful pattern.

We crossed the length of the building to peer into the House Chamber, which was larger than the Senate side. The room had a more circular, arched shape, with extravagantly painted details and moldings. The stained-glass window in the peak of this domed ceiling was similar to its sister in the Senate Chamber, but not quite the same. In contrast to the amazing backdrop behind the President of the Senate, the Speaker of the House must cope with a simpler, painted wall rather than the marble.

Our last stop was the fourth floor, where offices and other mundane rooms reside. The floor is made of thick, sturdy glass tiles that allow natural light from the skylights above to filter down to the third floor. It was an ingenious design technique that gave the building an even more open and bright feeling.

Some of the other artistic features of the building include three stained glass windows that depict scenes that are important to the culture of Mississippi. The one on the right shows an outdoorsman, pausing for a moment to take in the scenery as he toils away chopping wood. On the left, a Native American is shown as a testament to the significant influence that they have had on the history of Mississippi, including its namesake, which comes from a Native American word meaning, “Great River”. In the center, a representative figure sits regally on a throne, holding a book of knowledge and a sword. Also, the building still has one of its original elevators, which is still functional. The only other one that I had seen so far on my journey was in Kansas, where they employed a full-time elevator operator who spent her long days bringing Capitol staff, legislators, and visitors to whichever floor they desired.

I left the Capitol in a better mood than I had entered it in. I drove back to the hotel, and as I was making dinner, I began contemplating the historical events that made Mississippi what it is today.

Some of the most significant periods of Mississippi history were during the antebellum period, or the period before the Civil War. Mississippi was a major economic power in the antebellum era due to their lucrative cotton plantations. During the years leading up to the Civil War, cotton plantations became the most profitable cash crop in the United States, mostly at the expense of slaves and the lower class. Tobacco, which reduced its use of slavery during that time, was surpassed as the most prevalent cash crop for the first time in United States history. Only 5,000 plantation owners had more than 20 slaves, and these elite 5,000 held an inordinate amount of political and economic power. Because the majority of their wealth was earned on the backs of slaves, they did not wish to relinquish their power and this determination eventually grew into the decision to secede. During this time, Mississippi’s per capita wealth was greater than that of the rest of the United States, and because of this, even lower class whites were defensive of slavery as a “necessary evil” in the production of ‘King Cotton,’ the ruler of the economy. 

In many ways, the Civil War was about class warfare and diversifying the national economy in addition to the moral dilemma of slavery. When the northern states suffered through economic recession in the antebellum years, the Southern plantation owners remained unscathed. In fact, their profits rose as international and domestic demand for cotton increased and their labor expenses continued to be almost non-existent. Northerners looked at slavery as an unjust and cruel way to maintain profits and Southern elitist wealth, which fanned the flames of potential conflict. Most people in the South did not own slaves and many found the practice to be deplorable, but because slavery supported the local cotton economy, those that had doubts about slavery swallowed their personal opinions. It was also extremely unpopular to have such opinions, so social pressures added to the stalemate. It was a very complex issue, and at the time it was not nearly as obvious as it seems to us today. 

The Civil War signified a fall from power for the Southern white elites. The war not only altered the social dynamics of the region, but it also left a concrete, visible reminder of the violence. Afterwards, many of the Southern states were damaged, poor, and struggling to rebuild. Plantation owners no longer had a viable source of inexpensive labor, and many of the plantations were destroyed or converted to subsistence farms. People lost their homes, the towns were forced to rebuild, and the infrastructure took decades to recover. It was a very slow and agonizing healing process for a region that was doing very well just a short time previously. Since the Civil War, Mississippi has never ascended to the position of comparable economic and political power that it held during the antebellum period. Because of this drastic societal change and physical devastation, it is understandable why some people who grew up in the South would look at it as tyrannical oppression by the Union, rather than justifiable force used to keep the United States intact. There is rarely a simple resolution to such a complicated situation, especially when there are so many different people involved, all of whom have different perspectives, opinions, and backgrounds.

Understandably, the museums in the South tend to focus on the Civil War, its turbulence, and the subsequent negative outcomes. Southern states have also used symbolism and art to honor certain aspects of the antebellum time period, like Andrew Jackson’s Presidency. Mississippi’s capital city, Jackson, is even named in President Jackson’s honor, and most Capitols in the South have a statue of him right out front, whereas most of the northern states have statues of Lincoln or Washington prominently displayed on their Capitol grounds. There is a particularly intense devotion to Jackson in the South, despite some of his more controversial decisions. This idealization is particularly amusing for me, because as I as mentioned in the New Orleans post, Jackson owes his Presidency to a pirate. If the pirate Jean Laffite and his crew of smugglers had not agreed to help Andrew Jackson and his small company of soldiers in their defense of New Orleans, Jackson would not have won the battle, become a decorated war hero, or have ascended to the Presidency and gained such widespread fame in the South. Most people choose not to remember this tidbit.

After a long night of research and writing, I woke up on Tuesday prepared to tackle the day. I made coffee and began gathering my various belongings, which seemed to have multiplied since I left New Jersey. After I checked out, I drove down the street to a Cracker Barrel to get a quick bite to eat. One of the disadvantages of growing up in New Jersey is that one becomes accustomed to the perpetual availability of breakfast food, usually at a reliably decent diner. In the rest of the country, true diners are rare, and most places stop serving breakfast at 11am, so Cracker Barrel was my only option. Let’s face facts; it takes talent to screw up eggs and bacon.

As I waited for my food, I contemplated one of Mississippi’s nicknames, “The Hospitality State.” That morning when I had checked out of my hotel, I had been unceremoniously hurried from my room by a very sassy housekeeper, who was eagerly awaiting my departure so that she could finish her work for the day. Not only that, but I had the misfortune of picking what was possibly the most grumpy Cracker Barrel in the south, as I only received a snarled grimace from fellow patrons when I happened to catch their gaze and smile. From my experience that morning, it seemed amusingly ironic that Mississippi was called “The Hospitality State” when I had received a much warmer welcome in practically every other state that I had been to. 

Cranky demeanors aside, my trip to Mississippi was an interesting one. I loved the tour of the Capitol, and learning about its history. I appreciated the emphasis on light in the design, as Capitols are always more enjoyable if there is something unique about them. Learning about Mississippi history and some of the aspects of the Civil War was intriguing because it allowed me to see a controversial conflict from the other side. Having grown up in the North, it is easy for me to sympathize with the motives of the Union, but learning more about the Southern perspective gave me a greater appreciation for the complexity of the Civil War. It had been an eye-opening experience, but now, it was time to move on.  

I paid for my meal and walked outside to my car, pausing for moment to bask in the warmth of the southern sun. I had a long day of travel ahead, but I was eager to arrive in my next destination. I set my sights for Nashville, Tennessee and began the six-hour drive through Alabama.