Atlanta, Georgia

After a short drive from Montgomery, I arrived in Atlanta eager to explore one of the biggest cities in the Southeast. It was Saturday night, and I decided to go to a Japanese restaurant near the hotel. I ate my sushi happily, thankful to be settled in a new state for several days. After dinner, I located the hotel, checked in, brought in my massive haul of luggage, and collapsed into tranquility.

The next two days were going to be relatively low-key. It was Veteran’s Day weekend, and the Capitol building was closed. Despite that, on Monday I ventured out to explore part of the Martin Luther King Jr. National Historic Site. It included his birthplace, a museum, his and his wife’s grave, and Ebenezer Baptist Church, where Martin Luther King Jr. was baptized and later preached as a minister. It was located fairly close to downtown, and after a late lunch, I was only able to see a few things before they closed for the evening.

First, I visited the memorial where Martin Luther King Jr. and Coretta Scott King have been laid to rest. The site was situated in between the Ebenezer Baptist Church and his childhood home further up the street in a large courtyard. As I walked up, I was touched by the care that has been taken to ensure a peaceful resting place. The grave stood on a platform surrounded by a long reflecting pool that spans from the gravesite to the Freedom Center on the other end of the courtyard. Although it was just a short distance from the street, the courtyard felt very peaceful, as though the chaos of the city could not penetrate its boundaries. Across the walkway from the gravesite was an eternal flame, placed there to represent the everlasting effect that the Kings have had on the world.

There were no more tours of the King home available for the rest of the day, so I decided to visit the church, which was open to the public. When I entered, I greeted the gentleman inside, who told me that I was welcome to go upstairs and stay as long as I liked. I thanked him, and climbed to the second floor, where the congregation room was. When I entered, I felt the aura of serenity that is usually present in churches. It was after four in November, and the setting sun beamed golden light through the stained glass windows. The room felt as though it had borne witness to many years of struggle, growth, and faith, and I was merely one of many thousands that had entered those doors. I obviously had never met the people who helped Martin Luther King Jr. become the man that he was, but standing there, I felt as though my connection to King grew stronger.

I decided to come back the following day to take a tour of King’s birthplace and childhood home, and take a look in the museum. There were a lot of things to see at the Martin Luther King Jr. National Historic Site, and I wanted to take my time to absorb everything. I decided to buy food for the next few days at grocery store close to the hotel, and I spent the rest of the evening making dinner, planning future stops of the trip, and working on blog posts.

The next day I returned earlier in the day and went into the museum to reserve a free ticket to tour King’s childhood home. The gentleman behind the desk told me that the next tour is full, but if one of the ticket reservations didn’t show up for the tour, I could squeeze onto the next one. I had to wait for a few minutes, so I looked around the museum. The exhibits traced MLK’s life from birth to assassination, and there were several stories that I had never heard before. One of the stories that stood out to me was when King was stabbed with a letter opener while autographing his new book about the Bus Boycott, Stride Toward Freedom. He was in a crowded Harlem department store when a crazy woman attacked him. The surgeon later told him that the point was pressing on aorta, and had he sneezed while waiting for surgery, he would have died.

One of the other more famous incidents in MLK’s life was in 1963, when King’s Southern Christian Leadership Conference organized widespread, public protests throughout Birmingham, Alabama. Thousands of people began staging sit-ins and other displays of non-violent defiance, and the police responded by using high-pressure water hoses and police dogs to fend off the protestors, including on women and young children. Images of the violence that were released by the media shocked people throughout the country, and many were disgusted with the way that police responded to the protests. The SCLC was unwavering in their advocacy of nonviolence, but there were some individuals that retaliated to police aggression, and they were met with even more drastic attacks. During the Birmingham protests, MLK was arrested, along with Ralph Abernathy and others. It was during his time in solitary confinement, that MLK wrote his famous, “Letter from Birmingham Jail” in which he eloquently expressed the importance of nonviolent protest against injustice, no matter where it occurs, “Injustice anywhere is a threat to justice everywhere. We are caught in an inescapable network of mutuality, tied in a single garment of destiny. Whatever affects one directly, affects all indirectly.”

The back wall of the museum outlined the timeline of events during the Civil Rights Movement, starting with the beginning of the Montgomery Bus Boycott in 1955 to his assassination in April 1968. During these thirteen years, King traveled 6 million miles, spoke over 2,500 times, and was the youngest man to win the Nobel Peace Prize. He wrote five books, shook hands with two Presidents, and was named Time Magazine’s Man of the Year. Most people do not accomplish half of what Martin Luther King did during the Civil Rights Movement in their whole life. He was an exceptionally compassionate individual, and this site in Atlanta did an amazing job of honoring his life and his contributions to the betterment of society.

The gentleman behind the counter motioned to me as I emerged from the museum, and he told me that the tour was about to start in a few minutes, and he didn’t think that there would be many others coming. He handed me a ticket and directed me to the house just up the street. As I hurried over, I saw that it was a large, tan house with brown trim. The gift store was in the house next door, and that was where the tour was supposed to start. I found a seat in the front room and waited as other visitors gathered for the tour. A short while later, the tour guide arrived. First, we all introduced ourselves and said where we were from, and then we all got up and walked next door. There was an inviting, covered front porch that shielded the door from the sun, and we all gathered outside while the guide asked the group not to take any photos of the inside, or inadvertently bump against anything. The guide was a very boisterous older gentleman whose personality came through in every sentence he spoke. I could immediately tell that I was going to enjoy the tour.

This was home to Martin Luther King, Sr. and his wife Alberta Williams King, and their three children Willie Christine King, Martin Luther King, Jr., and Alfred Daniel Williams King. As a child, Martin Luther King Jr.’s family called him ML. The tour began in the front of the house, where our guide set the scene for the formal sitting room. This was generally the part of the house where the children were not allowed to play, because the nicest of the family’s possessions and furniture typically resided in the sitting room, where the parents would entertain guests. This room was also where the children were supposed to take piano lessons, which was not one of their favorite pastimes. Like many little boys, ML greatly preferred playing outside to learning how to play piano.

The tour continued into the dining room, which was set for Sunday dinner. Children were supposed to wear their church clothes, and they all ate dinner in the mid-afternoon as a family. Here is where ML told his father that his friend, who was white, wasn’t allowed to play with him anymore because he’s black. This was a defining moment in ML’s life, and would be one of the many injustices that would motivate him to become a civil rights activist. King, Sr. was also very passionate about social injustice, and refused to accept the inequality. When ML was young, he was riding in a car with his father when a police officer pulled them over. The policeman called King, Sr. “boy” and King pointed to his son, saying "This is a boy, I'm a man; until you call me one, I will not listen to you." His father’s beliefs and refusal to accept an unjust system shaped ML’s conscience, and definitely contributed to the man he became.

The kitchen, bathroom, and smallest bedroom were all on the first floor. It would take a full day to do the laundry for this family. ML’s chore was tending the house’s coal furnace, a chore he greatly preferred to washing dishes. The bedroom downstairs belonged to ML’s older sister Willie Christine, and it had a couple of dolls and feminine décor. The group filed upstairs to look at the boy’s room, the parents’ room, and the room where ML’s grandmother, Jennie Celeste Parks Williams lived until her death in 1941. She would read to her grandchildren often, and was a consistent caregiver throughout their childhood. The rooms were spacious and the boy’s bedroom has a mess of toys spread across the floor, for accuracy’s sake. It was very interesting to see the King’s home as it would have looked when King, Jr. was growing up.

After the tour, I returned to the hotel for the evening. The next day, I was going to visit the Capitol before driving to Tallahassee. After waking up, packing up all my things, and checking out, I drove downtown.

When I first arrived, it took me a while to find parking, which I did in the pay lot across the street. I walked inside, presented my ID, and complied with the other procedures. The security guard directed me to the information desk, which was right next to the Governor’s office. On my way there, I noticed that the rotunda was roped off, and after seeing the renovation in Arkansas, I was worried that I wouldn’t be able to see it in all of its glory. 

After getting my book stamped at the information desk, I went into the Governor’s office to sign the guest book. I was told that if I left my name and address, I would receive a signed card in the mail a few weeks later from the Governor, thanking me for my visit. [When I returned home in early December, I found the signed and stamped card in my mail backlog.] I started talking with the two ladies in the Governor’s office, and ended up conversing with them for quite a while about everything from the road trip to the weather to amusing stories about our pets. After a while, I began to notice that there was a crowd congregating in front of the grand staircase just outside the office, and the ladies explained that it was a rally for the election for the new superintendent of one of Atlanta’s school districts. I asked them about the rotunda, and they told me that the enormous Christmas tree was going to be put up the next day, so they were getting everything prepared. Apparently the tree was several stories high, and it took the entire day to get it set up. As the clock crept closer and closer towards 5pm, I realized that I would need to begin exploring the building soon or I wouldn’t get to everything before it closed. I said goodbye and left the Governor’s office, clutching a map of the building.

I visited the House and Senate Chambers, which were almost indistinguishable from each other. The main difference was their size, the House Chamber being the largest room in the building. Oddly enough, the gallery of the House Chamber was unlocked and the main floor closed, but in the Senate Chamber, the gallery was locked and the main floor was open. It was a little bit disconcerting, but I’ve learned that every Capitol handles things in its own way, so I didn’t question it.

Although I enjoyed visiting the Capitol, I found that the building itself was not what stood out to me the most in Atlanta. The highlight of the stop was visiting the Martin Luther King Jr. National Historic Site. It was heartening to see that his life had been honored so beautifully with the preservation of his home and his church, and that MLK and his wife, Coretta Scott King, had both been laid to rest between two of the places that meant the most to their family. By visiting the historic site, I felt that my understanding and appreciation of Martin Luther King Jr. grew exponentially. 

I returned to my car as the sun began to set. It was mid-November, and it was unusually cold for Georgia. Thankful to be heading further South, I set my GPS for the hotel in Tallahassee. I appreciated what I had seen and learned about in Atlanta, but as always, it was time to move on. As the afternoon grew older, I traveled towards the sunshine state.

Montgomery, Alabama

         The drive from Nashville to Montgomery was relatively short compared to some of the other legs of my trip so far. It was a little odd that a 4-hour drive seemed like no trouble at all, but in the same way, it was freeing. At this point in the trip, I had grown accustomed to the road and I felt little trepidation about traveling for several hours in the car. In fact, I looked forward to it.

I arrived in Montgomery in the early evening, settled in my hotel room, and went to a nearby grocery store to buy supplies for dinner. After cooking a simple meal, I worked on research and blog posts for several hours before turning in for the evening. The next morning I woke up, made breakfast, and drove into town.

I found parking directly outside the Capitol building, a convenience that I always appreciate. The sun was shining, and the bright white building was glistening in the daylight. It was an older Capitol – I have found that generally, the Eastern states have older Capitol buildings. I took a few pictures of historical markers on the ground, and I crossed the street to get a shot of the front of the building. As I did this, I spotted a couple that was also taking pictures of the State House, and we exchanged nods of acknowledgment.

As I began walking up the steps and into the front doors, I noticed a few people walking out of the building, and a bedraggled man approaching them. He appeared as though he may have been homeless, and he began telling them about how he was down on his luck, and started asking them for money. As I walked into the building, the Capitol policeman who was running security looked over my shoulder and saw the man through the open door. The policeman was young, blonde, wore glasses, and although he was very friendly, he had the typical no-nonsense demeanor of a policeman. He looked at me, smiled, and said, “Excuse me for a moment,” and walked outside. When the man saw him, he quickly turned away and the group of people began moving toward the street. The policeman said, “Did you just ask them for money?”

“No,” the man said, sheepishly.

Firmly, but not unkindly, the policeman chastised, “If I go ask them they are going to tell me something different, aren’t they? Look, I thought I told you that you can’t do that around here. You need to leave.”

“Yes, sir,” the man replied, and hurried off down the street.

I remember being struck by the gracious way the policeman handled the matter. He could have yelled, or been rude to the man for a repeated situation that they had clearly spoken about before, but he didn’t. The policeman was stern, yet it appeared he had not let his job cloud his compassion. It was a comforting thing to witness as soon as I stepped into the Capitol, because the policeman felt sympathy for the man, who had clearly fallen on hard times.

The policeman came back inside and ran me through the usual security procedures. There was a school group in the entryway just about to begin a tour, so in hushed tones, I told him about the trip, and he pulled out a map of the building and told me where all of the rooms of interest were. I thanked him, and began listening to the school tour as the guide asked all of the kids to lie down on their backs in the rotunda and look up into the dome as she told them a few facts about the building. Philadelphia architect Stephan Button built it in 1847, and it stands 350 feet wide and 119 feet tall. There have been several additions to the original part of the building over the course of the building’s life, and a major restoration from the 1970s to the 1990s returned the building to its late 1800s appearance.

She also pointed out two portraits: Governor George Wallace, and his wife, Governor Lurleen Burns Wallace. Both of them served as Governor during the 1960s and the Civil Rights Movement. When George Wallace first entered the Alabama legislature in 1946, he was considered to be moderate on race issues. Later in his career, he took a hard stance against desegregation and used this platform to win votes from the white majority. Wallace’s racist and anti-liberal campaigning tactics during his four unsuccessful bids for the presidency in 1964, 1968, 1972, and 1976 contributed to his decline in popularity. 

Lurleen Burns Wallace was George Wallace’s first wife. She made her own gubernatorial bid in 1966 when George Wallace was unable to repeal the term limits in the Alabama constitution (he later succeeded in repealing the term limits and two of his four terms were consecutive). She ran as “Mrs. George C. Wallace” and promised to keep her husband as her “#1 assistant.”   [This blatant circumvention of the Constitution might have been expected to produce backlash, but instead she was elected.]  She suffered through cancer treatment throughout her campaign, but she maintained a rigorous schedule, hiding her condition from the public. She began to rapidly decline shortly after taking office, and she died in Montgomery on May 7th, 1968. The Wallace portraits hang in the rotunda to honor the first (and to date, only) female governor of Alabama, and the governor who spent the longest amount of time in office.  

On May 15th, 1972 Arthur Bremer shot George Wallace five times while Wallace was campaigning at the Laurel Shopping Center in Laurel, Maryland. Wallace survived, but he was paralyzed from the waist down for the rest of his life. During his four terms as governor of Alabama, Wallace managed to repeal a restriction on term limits in the Alabama constitution that prevented any governor from serving consecutive terms. Although he is known as the face of the anti-desegregation movement, Wallace helped the state by establishing a junior college system that has spread throughout the state that prepares high school students for four-year degrees at Auburn University and University of Alabama. 

The group moved on to the House Chamber that was, as usual, the largest room in the building. There were soaring ceilings and tall windows on three sides of the room. The afternoon sun shone on an antique wood burning stove that still sits in the House Chamber. The engravings on the stove were extremely intricate, and the silver exterior reflected the sunlight so intensely that the stove became a focal point of the immense room.

Next the group moved up to the second floor where everyone convened in the Senate Gallery. It was decorated mostly in green, and the chairs below were arranged in a semi-circular shape.  As the tour group settled down to listen, the tour guide began telling us some facts about the room. The room was restored to its late 1800s appearance during a massive renovation in the 1980s. Here in the Senate Chamber, the Confederacy was signed into existence, and this building became the Capitol of the Confederate States of America. The guide told the group that many years ago, the legislature decided it would be a good idea to sell refreshments in the rotunda, including alcohol, for the citizens that decided to come to the Capitol to watch the legislative proceedings. As the spectators became increasingly intoxicated, their objections would become more and more boisterous, and it was not uncommon for citizens in the gallery to pelt their Senators with peanuts if they did not agree with something they said or how they voted on an issue. This is perhaps one of the many origins of the phrase, “Quiet in the peanut gallery!”

There were two other rooms in the back of the building that are used for gatherings and other purposes. One of the rooms housed a memorial to Alabama veterans, and another was currently displaying a school project in which elementary students had designed their own poster about “saying no to drugs.” Finally, there was a gift shop in the rear of the building, where I purchased my stately souvenirs, a postcard and a keychain.

I walked to the front of the building to return to my car, and on my way out, I stopped to talk to the Capitol policeman and the tour guide, both of whom were in the front entranceway. I had a long conversation with them about the trip and various other things, and gave them each a card for the blog. The guide recommended the Civil Rights Center as well as the Rosa Parks Museum as other places that I might be interested in visiting. It was already almost 4, so I decided to visit one of them the next day before driving to Atlanta.

The following morning I woke up, packed, and checked out before heading back downtown to visit the Rosa Parks Museum. I decided to go there because it focused specifically on the Montgomery Bus Boycott, and how those events in the small town of Montgomery would eventually change the country forever. As I drove into town, I noticed that there was almost nobody around. It was a fairly nice downtown with a few stores, plenty of parking spaces and nice wide sidewalks, but there was hardly anyone to be seen. It was a Saturday, so I guessed everyone in Montgomery either went to Birmingham or had something else to do.

I took a few pictures of the front of the building, but when I entered I was informed that photography was not allowed inside of the museum. I purchased tickets and headed into the room across the hall, where a fairly large group was gathering for the tour. The guide came in and shut the door. She asked everyone to sit down and told us that we were going to see a video about the night Rosa Parks was arrested, detailing the events before, during, and after the arrest itself. The video began by introducing the main people involved in the boycott, including Rosa Parks, Reverend Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. and Reverend E.B. Nixon, who was president of the local chapter of the NAACP. It went on to describe the night that Rosa Parks was arrested, including the fact that her resistance was not actually illegal. Rosa Parks was sitting in the row of the bus that is designated for both black and white citizens, and it was a custom rather than a law demanding that blacks give up those seats for white passengers. Rosa Parks was not breaking the law, but when she refused to move, she was arrested nonetheless.

This moment of resistance sparked a ripple throughout the town, in large part because Rosa Parks was well known and liked on both “sides” of Montgomery. She was a 40-year-old seamstress that was acquainted with everyone. Not only was she an active member of the church in the African American community, but she had also hemmed dresses for wealthy, white debutantes and was friendly with their parents. She was liked throughout all levels of society within Montgomery, and this fact made her resistance the most profound. She was such a kind person that the entire town was surprised to hear of her arrest, and this was a very powerful factor in the bus boycott.

When Parks was arrested, she was permitted to make one phone call. She called E.B. Nixon, who was not only her minister but was also the president of the NAACP. He immediately called Reverend Ralph Abernathy and Reverend Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. who began planning a meeting for the next morning. There the Montgomery Improvement Association was formed, and they planned to organize a long-threatened boycott of the buses.  Black customers’ fares were the mainstay of the bus system’s budget. Jo Ann Robinson, a professor at Alabama State College and president of Montgomery’s Women’s Political Council, worked all night with a student at the college mimeographing flyers to be handed out in the black community. They made a total of 52,500 flyers calling for a one-day bus boycott on Monday, December 5th, the day of Park’s trial.

            On December 5th, Parks was convicted of violating segregation laws. That day, the buses ran empty.  A full 99% of Montgomery’s black population took part in the boycott, and walked to work that day. Later that evening, the black community gathered at Holt Street Baptist Church to discuss the boycott, and how to continue it. Martin Luther King Jr. spoke at that gathering, stressing the importance of nonviolent protest, no matter what opposition, retaliation, or violence they faced during this boycott. Indeed, they did face severe backlash from the city and white supremacist groups. A large group of the protestors were arrested, including King. Four black churches were bombed, along with King’s and Abernathy’s houses. In order to continue the boycott, the MIA organized a carpool system to help the community’s elderly get around, but officials often harassed those cars, drivers, and passengers. Still, despite all of the difficulties that they faced, the protest continued.

            Finally, almost a year after the protest had begun, the Supreme Court ruled Montgomery’s bus segregation laws unconstitutional on November 26, 1956. The boycott continued until official record of the ruling reached Montgomery, but when it did, King, Abernathy, and a few others rode the buses all day, sitting in the front. This moment was the first major triumph in the Civil Rights Movement, and the Montgomery Bus Boycott inspired many other similar protests in towns across the country. This was the beginning of a long battle that would improve the lives of black Americans everywhere, and it all started with the Montgomery Bus Boycott.

            There is an air of poetic justice about the Montgomery Bus Boycott in the sense that the Civil Rights Movement began in the former capital city of the Confederacy. It was an inspiring message to the rest of the country about the power of the nonviolent protest, and it set a precedent for other protests such as the Nashville sit-ins, during which black college students sat at the lunch counters of different stores in downtown Nashville and refused to give up their seats. When they succeeded in desegregating the lunch counters on May 10th, 1960, it was yet another major step toward racial equality.

            I left the museum feeling restored in my faith in humanity and inspired by the incredible bravery of Rosa Parks and other nonviolent protestors of the Civil Rights movement. It was a beautiful day, the sun was shining and I was looking forward to the drive to Atlanta. I climbed back in my car and set my sights east towards Georgia. 

       

Nashville, Tennessee

         When I arrived in Nashville, I drove straight to a steakhouse called J. Alexander’s. It was a Tuesday, and I had just driven six long hours from Mississippi. The restaurant was situated at the end of a strip mall in the suburbs. As soon as I walked in, I realized that it was definitely the sort of place that businessman go to for dinner after work. Everyone inside was well dressed, the lights were dimmed, and I could barely hear the hostess when I asked for a table. She motioned for me to step aside for a moment as a large group of businessmen entered, laughing boisterously, but I was seated shortly thereafter. I placed my order and began “people watching” as I waited for my food. Just a few tables away, three couples were enjoying their meals. They spoke over a bottle of wine, laughing raucously at one another’s jokes. At some point in their conversation, I saw one of the men take out a very small gun out of his shirt pocket and hand it to his friend across the table so that he could admire it. It was so casual, so friendly, but so foreign to me just the same.
In New Jersey where I grew up, there are incredibly strict gun laws that dictate that only registered security personal, police, or other qualified individuals are permitted to carry concealed firearms. Now, I did have exposure to pellet guns, rifles, and handguns in Pony Club and summer camp in Maine, but all of those experiences were in strictly controlled environments. Here, in a restaurant over dinner, it just seemed so out of place to me. In New Jersey, no one would ever see a moment like the one I just witnessed. Someone who grew up in Tennessee would not have had a second thought about it, because it would be fairly commonplace. It is amazing how where we grow up affects our perceptions about what is commonsense, acceptable, or cause for concern. That notion makes me wonder which of my opinions are truly well thought out and logical, and which ones are merely products of the environment in which I was raised.  As humans, do we perpetually favor what is familiar, regardless of the benefits of alternatives?
After dinner, I drove to the hotel that I had reserved. When I checked in, I let the gentleman behind the front desk know that I was having a small package arrive at the hotel, which contained the business cards for the blog. I was really excited to see how they turned out. The room wasn’t my favorite, but it was spacious and I got a good rate. I settled down for the evening, unpacked my copious amounts of stuff, and planned my trip to the Capitol and museum the next day.
I woke up on Wednesday morning and looked for a place to get breakfast. I decided to go to the Sky Blue Café. It was a little brick building on the corner right across the street from an elementary school. There were only 8 tables inside, but luckily there was one available when I arrived. I ordered my usual breakfast, and began working out some other scheduling details for the next few days. My food arrived sooner than I expected, and I was disappointed to see that my bacon wasn’t cooked thoroughly and that the eggs were runny. I ate most of my food, but I left feeling mildly unsatisfied.

It was a short drive to the Capitol, but parking was hard to find. The Capitol itself was situated at the top of an extremely steep hill, and the only parking spot I could find was all the way at the bottom of the hill. I gathered my camera and walked up the long hill, pausing occasionally to take a few pictures or to catch my breath. It was a grey, windy day and the statues on the grounds seemed to be warning me of an approaching storm with their solemn expressions and animated stances. In the rear of the building, and down two flights of stairs, there was a charming courtyard with two fountains and a statue of Andrew Jackson at the battle of New Orleans. Clark Mills of South Carolina, who sold a total of three copies throughout his life, is the craftsman. One stands near the White House in Washington D.C, one in Jackson Square in New Orleans, and the third here on the lawn of the Tennessee State Capitol.

         Architect William Strickland designed the Capitol, but died in 1854, shortly before its completion. His dying wish was to be buried in the walls of the Capitol, where he rests in the northeast corner of the building to this day. In 1880 Samuel Morgan, who was chairman of the Capitol Commission during the entirety of its construction, was buried in the southeast corner of the building. Some Capitol staff members, including policeman and maintenance workers, have claimed that they have heard strange noises or seen weird things while in the Capitol alone. There is a widespread belief that the Capitol is haunted, and considering that it is the only State Capitol to also be a mausoleum, I would not be surprised.
         I clambered up the final flights of steps, breathing heavily, and made my way to the front of the building, where the entrance for the public was. When I entered the building, a Capitol policeman informed me that I needed a photo ID to enter. Unfortunately, that photo ID was back in the car. I sullenly trudged back down the hill, retrieved my identification, and climbed slowly back up to the top, grumbling about unnecessary security measures. When I arrived at the entrance huffing and puffing, I handed over my ID and went through security.
         I went over to the tours and information desk, where a young woman was watching Netflix with her earphones in. As I approached, she paused what she was watching and asked if she could help me. I replied that I needed my book stamped. Without checking that the date was right, she pulled out the rubber stamp and stamped by book. I was frustrated to see that the date was incorrect, but I thanked her anyway, and began walking around. Throughout all of the rooms and halls, the walls were a grey stone, giving the building uniformity. The grey was so overpowering, however, that I felt that it took away from some of the decoration.
         One the first floor, there was the Governor’s Office and the old Supreme Court Chamber. The Supreme Court moved to its current building in Nashville in 1937, so now this room is used for formal addresses and committee meetings. There were three large windows with blue draperies on the far wall. The ceiling was arched, and there were several columns through the center of the room to support it, separating the audience from the five chairs in the front. The Governor’s Office had an atrium that served for office space for people that worked under the Governor. There were murals on each of the walls depicting scenes from Tennessee history. I wrote my name in the sign in book, and ventured upstairs.
         Unlike most of the capitols, the second floor of the Tennessee Capitol does not have a traditional rotunda. Instead, the space is dominated by 1 of 4 original chandeliers from the 1850s. The painting on the ceilings is subtle yet beautiful. The room to the right of the staircase is the House of Representatives. This room is the largest in the building, but there is a lack of natural light, which made it seem smaller than it actually is. This room has housed many historic events including the ratification of the 13th, 14th, and 19th amendments to the Constitution (a fact that is noted in the Capitol’s online virtual tour).  Outside the House chamber, there is a sitting area where people can relax. Just outside the large, glass doors is a balcony that gives a wonderful view of Nashville.
         Down the hall, there are two more notable rooms. First I went to the Senate Chamber, which was considerably smaller than the House Chamber. The legislature was not in session, so I was able to step onto the Senate floor. The room is decorated in period style, and like the House Chamber, has very few windows. Across the hall is a room that used to be the law library, but now it is used for committee meetings and small gatherings. The room still has its original cast iron spiral staircase, along with another original gasolier. The second and third rows of books remain in the space, giving it an appealing atmosphere. When I walked in, I noticed that there were a few gentlemen setting up the room for a congressional fundraiser.

          I left the building and climbed back down the hill to my car, only to discover that a black cover had been put over the parking meter that said, “Reserved. No Parking.” Although the museum was just around the corner, I decided to move my car before someone towed it away. I found a spot right outside, and I went in. Admission was free, which certainly made me happy. I went downstairs to start the main part of the exhibit. There were several permanent exhibits, including ‘First Tennesseans,’ ‘Frontier,’ ‘Age of Jackson,’ ‘Antebellum,’ ‘The Civil War’ and ‘Reconstruction,’ and ‘The New South.’ One of the notable artifacts was a bench that belonged to Davy Crockett, which was old and worn but wonderfully preserved. Davy Crockett is an American icon, frontiersman, and politician. He was born in 1786 in East Tennessee. As a teenager, he ran away from home after his father tried to whip him for skipping school. He returned home over a year later, returned to school for a short time, and worked off his father’s debt to two different men. Crockett served under Andrew Jackson during the Creek War, which was a series of bloody battles with the Creek Indians. Crockett spent most of his time in the military hunting for food to feed the other soldiers, a job that he felt was more suitable for him  than killing Creek Indians.
         Crockett was elected to the Tennessee General Assembly in 1821 and again in 1823. Throughout his political career, Crockett fought for the rights of impoverished farmers. He first ran for the United States House of Representatives in 1825, but was unsuccessful. While in Memphis, Crockett met mayor Marcus Brutus Winchester by chance, and gained his support and encouragement for another bid for Congress. Crockett was elected to the United States House of Representatives in 1827 and again in 1829. He disagreed with several of Andrew Jackson’s policies, and was known to support Jackson’s competitors during elections. He also differed from the opinions of all other congressmen from Tennessee on issues including land reform and the Indian Removal Act. Crockett was the only congressman from Tennessee to vote against the Indian Removal Act, and this decision cost him reelection in the 1831 election. Fed up with partisan politics, Crockett announced his intention in the famous quote, "I told the people of my district that I would serve them as faithfully as I had done; but if not, they might go to hell, and I would go to Texas."
          Crockett did go to Texas, which was still the Mexican state of Tejas at the time. He fought in the Texas Revolution, and died in 1836 in the Battle of the Alamo, which is one of the most well known battles in Texas-American History. Davy Crockett was 50 years old when he died defending Texan Independence, a sacrifice that has earned him a portrait in the Texas State Capitol. Davy Crockett, along with Daniel Boone, hold a special place in American history as famous frontiersman. Both of them have been subject to larger than life legends and tales about their abilities, some of which overshadow the truly impressive facts about their lives. When one considers that Daniel Boone founded modern-day Kentucky, and Davy Crockett’s public service in the military as well as state and national legislatures, it is apparent that their accomplishments have made America what it is today.
        As I continued through the museum, I discovered one of the temporary exhibits, which was of a personal dulcimer collection. A dulcimer is a 4-string instrument in which the strings stretch the length of the body but do not extend on a neck like a guitar. Many of these dulcimers had been collected over a long period of time from antique stores and other places. As I was looking at some of the instruments, an older gentleman who worked at the museum began talking to me about music. He asked if I had been to the Opry yet and I replied that I hadn’t. He grinned and launched into a description of the Opry and what was interesting about it.
          The Grand Ole Opry is the longest running radio program in US history. WSM, a popular Nashville radio station, broadcasted a wide range of acts from this country music stage. The Grand Ole Opry has hosted everyone from Patsy Cline to Elvis Presley to Brad Paisley, and is possibly the most famous country music venue in the world. It started in 1925, and soon gained widespread popularity. In 1932, WSM increased its broadcasting power to most of the United States and even some parts of Canada. Soon, the Opry’s audience outgrew its venue, and it found a home at Ryman Auditorium in 1943, where it remained for the next thirty years. In the 1954, a teenage Elvis Presley came to the Opry to perform, but his rhythmic, bluesy style was a little too revolutionary for the audience, who was used to more conservative acts. After his performance, Opry manager Jim Denny told Elvis that he should return to Memphis to continue his truck-driving career, and Elvis swore that he would never return to the venue. He kept his word and did not return throughout his career, much to the chagrin of the Opry, I’m sure.
          In 1974, the Opry desired a new, permanent location for the show. They began construction on a massive entertainment complex that included the theme park, Opryland USA, and the Opryland Hotel. The Grand Ole Opry House opened two years after the theme park and the show has remained there ever since. One of the sentimental aspects of the new venue was a circle of wood from the Ryman Auditorium stage that was inlaid into the new stage at the Grand Ole Opry House. That way, each new performer stands on the same spot as the many great musicians that performed at the Opry for decades. The Grand Ole Opry is an American music icon that spans generations of country music fans. Because of its widespread popularity, the Opry greatly contributed to Nashville’s reputation, especially in 1950 when WSM announcer David Cobb proclaimed that Nashville was “Music City USA.” In many ways, it is the cornerstone of Nashville’s culture.
         After departing the museum, I returned to the hotel before starting the extensive packing up routine in preparation to drive to Montgomery, Alabama. Luckily, Montgomery was only 4 hours away. I wished I had more time in Nashville, as I knew that there were many other things to discover. Nashville, along with New Orleans, Austin, and some other stops along the way, had become a destination that I promised myself I would return to in the future.  I wanted more time in Nashville to see some of the other things that the Music City has to offer. I was thrilled with Nashville’s Capitol, as well as learning about Davy Crockett and the Grand Ole Opry. The following afternoon, I checked out and rejoined the road.

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.