It’s Columbus Day today – and whether you love or loathe the historical figure, he has a pretty significant association with the District.
Namely, our name.
The capital was named by the three commissioners who were appointed by President Washington to prepare and plan the new Federal City. In 1791, they decided it would be called the “Territory of Columbia,” and the “City of Washington.”
They made this choice with a significant anniversary looming – the 300th anniversary of Christopher Columbus’s voyage to the New World.
It consists of 100 statues placed throughout the building – two donated by each state to commemorate people who have had an impact on their state and the nation.
While most of the statues are traditional marble sculptures of the usual suspects in U.S. history, the collection has also changed with the times. Since 2000, states are allowed to even replace their statues if they so choose – which has happened three times already.
Walking through the halls of the Capitol now, there are a few statues that manage to surprise.
In conversation, some things are better left unsaid – and in the Historic District, some things are better left unbuilt.
That’s the unspoken commentary behind a new exhibit that opened at the National Building Museum this past weekend. “Unbuilt Washington” explores the monuments and buildings – and occasional Venetian-style canal – that might have graced the District, if only they had made it past the drawing board.
There’s the colossal pyramid honoring Abraham Lincoln, or the medieval-style Memorial Bridge dedicated to Ulysses S. Grant, or the new executive mansion built further up 16th Street, atop Meridian Hill.
As a D.C. guide, I thought this exhibit was a pretty fascinating tour of an alternate Washington. And with Thanksgiving approaching, I was also left feeling grateful that some of these outlandish structures were left unbuilt – either through lack of funds, shifting priorities, or public outcry.
The exhibit reminds you that from its inception, the federal capital has presented a veritable blank slate for architectural imaginations and often competing notions of national expression.
When you’re a tour guide in Washington, D.C., you never know what you’ll encounter. Any given day, the nation’s capital plays host to all kinds of groups, protests, parades, and commemorations.
One Sunday a couple of weeks ago, I was guiding a Japanese tour through the city when we encountered a pretty unusual sight in front of the Capitol building. A row of about 25 policemen on horses, lined up across the National Mall.
The officers were from all different regions of the country, wearing distinct state uniforms and riding different breeds of horses.
It made a great sight, especially with the statue of Civil War General and President Ulysses S. Grant astride his own horse looming just behind them.
Yesterday, World War I officially became history for Americans when the last doughboy was buried across the river at Arlington National Cemetery.
Frank Woodruff Buckles died at his home in West Virginia on February 28 at the age of 110 – one of the last three known living veterans of the Great War (the two remaining are a man in Australia and a woman in Britain).
Hundreds of Washingtonians and visitors paid tribute to him by visiting the National World War I Memorial on the Mall, shuffling through the Capitol Rotunda to see his flag-draped coffin, and attending a solemn ceremony at Arlington as he was laid to rest.
Okay, so only one out of three of those things actually happened.
I was standing in the cold on the platform of Union Station yesterday, waiting expectantly with camera in hand for the president to arrive. The 11:21 AM train had just pulled in and was emptied of people, but its most important passenger was still on board.
A small cluster of Amtrak officials and security guards stood nearby. I recognized Ken Salazar, Secretary of the Interior, as he walked by (such is the nature of our celebrities in the District). He was escorted into the train by National Park Service rangers to officially welcome the president to Washington.
Eventually I saw an entourage of police, officials, reporters, and photographers emerge from the car and walk toward me on the platform, all surrounding the District’s most important new resident. Finally, he came into view. The former senator from Illinois was taller than I expected, but I couldn’t yet see his face.
What I saw first was the top of his stovepipe hat.
Then I saw the long face, the hollow cheeks, the short beard. There was no mistaking it – Mr. Lincoln had arrived (again) in the District.