Saturday in Jackson

Not much doing.  As you can tell, we didn’t choose our hotel room for the view (unless you’re a train spotter, in which case there is almost continuous entertainment out there, complete with sound effects!)

As usual, we’d planned to visit the State Capitol but came unstuck when we realised it’s closed on weekends, so we needed a quick change of plan.  Downtown didn’t seem to provide many distractions (with the odd exception, above, so we were left with the Old State Capitol building, now a museum.

I can’t say we were ever so enthusiastic, but with little else on offer, there we were.

Even though we knew it was closed, we wanted to go and take a look at the “real thing”, sitting in an elevated position not too far from our hotel.

Sitting in front of the building was a post Civil War monument to the Women of the Confederacy.  Each side offered a sentimental dedication to Our Mothers, Our Sisters, Our Daughters and to Our Wives.  That to “Our Sisters” is as follows:

Their smiles inspired hope; their tender hands soothed the pangs of pain; their prayers encouraged faith in god; and when the dragon of war closed its fangs of poison and death, they like guardian angels, entwined their hands in their brothers arms, encouraged them to overcome the losses of war and to conquer the evils in its wake, adopting as their motto: “Lest We Forget” 

The other dedications and further information can be found here.

Meanwhile, men wearing green striped trousers were closing off the street we had just driven up.  The question “why?” loomed large (about the green striped trousers too).

On to the Old State Capitol then, set across the road from a row of houses which could have been found in any small town.  But this is the State Capital?  Jackson does not fit the usual description!

From the steps we could see our hotel, no longer the grand King Edward but a Hilton Garden Inn. 

Just inside the door of the museum, we got a flavour of what lie inside; a modern, well designed, accessible visitor experience.  Things began to look a little more promising.

Inside, the building had been restored to it’s former glory.  Simple in comparison with the more elaborate replacement Capitol building, it was striking, nevertheless.

From there, we set out to explore the exhibits.  First stop, the Keeper of the Capitol’s office.  She – for it was a woman who held this post – was responsible for the everyday security and maintenance of the building and as she had to lock and unlock every day, she had special dispensation to sleep there.

The next exhibit required us to scan our entry tickets.  We’d be assigned a role and be able to read about how our person would be affected by events.

Woohoo!  I struck lucky!

I was served well by the 1817 constitution and my wealth and status were protected.

Others didn’t fare so well, sadly.

Next stop, the Governor’s office.  Here he was, getting on with his work in fine surroundings.

Next door, there was a flavour of next year’s bi-centennial celebrations for Mississippi, when a new Museum will open and provide a worthy home for this precious symbol of the state.

I was interested to read of the conservation of this very fragile textile and felt pleased that it has been kept in relatively good shape considering its heritage.

It was hard to photograph a small fragment, but I managed a single star without too much reflection from the protective glass.

On the next floor was a series of portraits of the Mississippi Hall of Fame.  Mostly “male and pale” as one might expect…  Still, I liked the way the portraits had been displayed.

The neighbouring room had been set up as the Supreme Court and here, we were invited to sit up to the desk of the Appellent or the Respondent, to choose a case to argue and to recreate a slice of legal history.  There were five cases from which to choose.

We chose Case 1, Trotter v. McCall and Mary stepped up to the podium to read the case for the Appellent.

The decision was outlined and  the case upheld.  What a great way for youngsters to explore the legal system!

From up here on the top floor, we could get a better view of the dome and the intricate mouldings.

The lantern was also adorned with a design I could only see as “M” for Mississippi.  You know how it is, once you’ve “seen” a pattern?

As we already knew, the Right to Vote is a huge issue here and in Mississippi it was no different from elsewhere.

We scanned our tickets again to see if we had the right to vote.  I struck lucky yet again but Mary didn’t

The last display we visited made note of a variety of events including the State Fair, which had taken place in this very building on several occasions.  I had to take photographs of these exhibits, bearing in mind the workshops I’ve been doing and the preponderance of jars of jam and pickle in those exhibits!

Because where the WI is concerned, there is inevitably at least one jar of jam!

We’d more or less done with the Old State Capitol by now and believe it or not, it was lunchtime!  We’d underestimated how interesting and well put together the exhibition inside would be and I think all of us left the richer for having visited.

Stepping outside, we encountered a beautiful bride, having her wedding photographs taken.  What a gorgeous dress and how lovely she looked. We chatted with her proud Mum, about the wedding and about the referendum result yesterday.  Just like everyone else we’ve spoken to in the last day or two, she referred to the upcoming US election and hoped that the electorate would learn from our mistake.

With an afternoon to spare and a few items still on my shopping list, we ventured out into the shopping territory.  Tuesday Morning has been on my list for a while, as a source of well priced papercraft items.  It didn’t disappoint and once again, a charming young assistant began a conversation with me as I paid for my purchases.  Oh, how she’d love to visit London, she told me.  How lucky I was to be able to travel and to see the world.  I agreed, and offered my encouragement to her, because really, there is no better way to learn.

Another couple of stores later, in which we had similar conversations with such friendly and charming people who showed genuine interest in what had brought us to Jackson and who shared how much they loved our accent!  Of course, this was all spoken in the broadest of Mississippi accent but no matter – the young woman who told me I spoke just “like Nanny McPhee” made me smile!

Tonight, we chose to return to the Iron Horse Grill and had another great meal.  Jackson is a funny old place really, but I’m so pleased we came!

A day for contemplation

As we went to bed last night, the results of the referendum were coming in and it didn’t look as though it was going the way we hoped.  When I woke and took a quick look at my tablet at 4am, the die was cast.  The results were in and the outcome was most certainly not what we voted for.  I didn’t sleep much more and by breakfast time both of us were feeling despondent.

We were ready to hit the road though and with Mary’s good humour to ease us from our gloom, we set out along the Old Selma Road to follow the route of the march we’d read so much about yesterday.

At least we’d had a vote and been able to use it. 

Before long, we were in the Visitor Centre reading about those who fought so hard to achieve that valuable status.  Yet again, we read new details of the story and learned a little more about the struggle.

I’m sorry for the poor photo, but imagine having to answer a series of questions like this in order to register to vote.  Shocking, isn’t it?  I didn’t take a photo of the instructions for registration, which included the opening times of the office (every second Monday unless it was some person’s day off…between some uncertain hours too)   It was quite clear that as many barriers were put in place to prevent anyone actually succeeding.

Here was that iconic photograph of the encounter on the bridge in Selma with John Lewis amongst others and the police, about to push forward.  There was a video of the encounter, shocking in its brutality, together with a few first hand accounts of the day known as Bloody Sunday.

What was new to us was the story of the Tent City.  After the march, many of the black workers returned to find themselves unemployed and, since they usually lived in homes provided by their employer, homeless too.  This Visitor Centre had been built on land formerly occupied by the Tent city, where people lived for up to two years after that march, until they found alternative means.

From here, we drove further along the highway to Selma itself.

After a little struggle and one or two attempts, I snapped a photo of the Historic Route sign too.

Before long we were in Selma, where there was one last visitor centre.  Was there yet more to learn?

It was situated right by the bridge – the bridge upon which the Bloody Sunday events unfolded and where earlier this year a commemorative event marked the 51st anniversary of the march.

We were the only visitors to the centre this morning and our arrival prompted the three youngsters on duty to spring into action and offer a warm welcome. 

Though it was interesting, by now we were feeling a little Selma-ed out.  It was time to move on.  Move on we did, past package stores (anyone know what those are?  I’ll leave the answer at the foot of this post!) and suburban retail parks before we were back on the tree lined, rural roads again.

Our next stop was Demopolis where we’d identified an Antebellum Mansion to visit.  Gaineswood is a stunning example of its kind, though arriving at an unmanned gate and strolling across the grass in search of the front door, we felt like intruders!

Actually, we’d approached by the wrong entrance, but never mind, we found our way in and were greeted warmly by Paige, who was about to begin a tour of the house with another couple.  We tagged along!

The house had been built as a small home by General Whitworth and subsequently extended and embellished until it reached the sizeable and elegant proportions as it stands today.  The General appeared to have a wealth of skills and seems to have excelled at everything he turned his hand to and in touring his home, we learned as much about the man as we did about the house.

Paige was an excellent guide too and kept it all interesting and to the point.

Here was the curiosity of the day, in the General’s wife’s bathroom.  It’s a “hat bath” and would have been used by stepping into the middle and sitting on the towel covered seat (soap in the little niche created by the flannel there) and then stand to have a jug of water poured over by whoever was in attendance.  I could only imagine sitting on that towel and finding the whole thing tipped up leaving me flat on my back in an uncompromising position, because there was no support for that rim at all!

Upstairs were family bedrooms and for all this appeared to be a large and spacious home, all five daughters had to share this room (and these two beds).

Next door was a small workroom with sewing machine, loom and spinning wheels.  The girls were probably kept busy.

As we left the house, Paige pointed out a design feature on the wall and stairs.  A wave pattern created by the General symbolised eternal life and the negative space, a horn of plenty.  The General hoped for eternal abundance, it seemed, and judging from what we saw here, he and his family were more than satisfied.

With little choice for a bite to eat in this part of deepest Alabama, we had to settle for gourmet…

The rest of the drive to Jackson was straightforward and when my hero says the driving isn’t difficult, you’ll know what he means.

We stopped just inside Mississippi to visit the welcome centre and pick up a brochure or two.  Chatting with the friendly staff, who immediately offered us coffee, we noted the warmth and Southern charm yet again.  Delightful!

Oh, and our first visit to Mississippi so logging up our US State #45!  Ker-ching!

So here we are in Jackson for a couple of nights, where the Iron Horse Grill came highly recommended and fulfilled our every expectation!  We’ve slipped up in not realising the Mississippi State Capitol is closed at the weekend so can’t add that one to our collection, but we will surely find some fun somewhere.

Oh, and the soundtrack?   This of course!

(ooops!  nearly forgot the answer to the Package Store question.  Here, a Package Store is what we would call a beer-off, an off-licence or a liquor store.  We’d not heard the term until we arrived in this part of the world)

We shall overcome

I’ve been trying to remember what I remember from those days when the events of the US Civil Rights campaign were unfolding.  I was only just born when Rosa Parks refused to get off her bus, so it’s unsurprising that I don’t remember that.  I was ten or thereabouts when the march from Selma to Montgomery took place and whilst I might have been more aware of that, I grew up in a community more concerned with events closer to home; reports of sunken trawlers and the Cod War with Iceland featured larger in my life than Civil Rights issues in a place so far from Hull.

One thing I do remember is the song We shall overcome though I think I remember it most clearly sung by Joan Baez.  I really don’t know, but when I heard it today, that was the first link to my recollection of the events I am still learning so much about.

We’d set today aside for exploring Montgomery, capital of Alabama and the location of many events in both the Civil War and more recently, the campaign for Civil Rights.

We began at the State Capitol, shining white in the morning sunshine.

We enjoyed a tour with Sharren, our guide, who gave us a great deal of historical background and pointed out the most important features.

Unlike the Georgia Capitol building, this one was as decorative as others we’ve seen and looking up to the dome, we could learn about the major events in Alabama history, as painted by Roderick MacKenzie.

 

We were able to take a look inside both houses, though the business of governing Alabama now goes on in another building and these chambers were merely historic.

Our next stop was outside, under the portico, where Jefferson Davis was inaugurated in 1861 as the first and only President of the Confederacy, because we were to learn about the secession of Alabama on this, the day when thoughts of leave/remain were very much in our minds.

From here too, we could see where Governor George Wallace denied entry to the Capitol estate to the marchers who had come from Selma, when Martin Luther King turned his back on the Capitol and spoke to the crowd.

From here, we crossed the road to the first White House of the Confederacy: another troubling period of history altogether.

We were greeted enthusiastically by a couple of chaps who had a great deal of information to share and whose personalities alone filled the house.  This was Jefferson Davis’s home whilst he was President though it didn’t always stand on this spot, having been moved from elsewhere in the city.

The house itself was quite grand and much of the furniture was original, having been bequeathed by Mrs Davis on her death.

Of course, there were nuances we simply didn’t get, like the significance of the titles of the songs on the piano, because it was quite clear that we were on Confederate territory here, even before we overheard the whispered advice to another visitor that “flags were available under the counter in the store upon request”.

It takes generations to overcome such allegiances; a particularly sobering thought on this, our Referendum day.

Our next stop was the Alabama Museum, where a variety of displays interested and entertained us.

Of course, one room told the story of the 1950s; of Hank Williams, Nat King Cole and segregation.

But had it not been for Mary, the significance of one image would have passed me by.  She pointed out the gentleman in the light raincoat, identifying him as John Lewis, current Georgia politician and even today, making a stand.  Being a “Civil Rights Legend” is a lifetime role, it seems.

He had been part of the Selma-Montgomery march which Governor Wallace had stopped in its tracks at the foot of the Capitol steps.  Our next stop was to be the Civil Rights Memorial Centre and here we were keen to see the memorial itself, designed by the same architect as the Vietnam Veterans Memorial in Washington DC, Maya Lin.

Here was a powerful quote from Martin Luther King Jnr’s “I have a dream” speech

and a circular fountain listing the major events up to and including Martin Luther King Jnr’s assassination.  Powerful and highly effective, I couldn’t help but feel that this was the kind of memorial MLK himself deserved.

Inside, we added our names to the wall.

because if we didn’t feel moved and inspired by the things we’d seen in the last 24 hours, then we would have hearts of stone.

And anyway, there was still Rosa.  Rosa Parks; she of the bus incident in the year I was born.

It all happened here, by the fountain in the middle of Montgomery.

This quiet, unassuming woman’s action in refusing to get off the bus to allow a white man to sit in her place led to more than a year of boycotts of the buses here.

In the museum dedicated to her memory, there indeed was a bus and plenty of other material relating to the events which were triggered by Rosa Park’s actions that day.  Yet more powerful and inspiring stuff about which I realise I knew so little until I came here.

So here we were, on a hot (97F) Alabama afternoon, standing and absorbing all of these gruesome stories and events.  Suddenly, we felt we’d seen enough and felt rather overwhelmed by it all.

We also felt rather preoccupied by the events taking place back at home, where we had done all we could to ensure a secure future for our family by voting to remain in the EU, and could only await the outcome this evening.  We’ve felt troubled by the campaign, have found ourselves at odds with friends who don’t share our opinions and for the first time ever, have openly spoken of our views and nailed our colours to the mast.  Mindful of the two men in the Confederate White House too, we know such partisan behaviour lasts generations.

It was time to return to the hotel, to cool down and do a little journalling!

The Capitol Heights Baptist Church gave us a little giggle on the way.

The Little White House was a bonus

We left Atlanta this morning for the next leg of our journey westwards.  We were heading for Montgomery, some 180 miles or so and a fairly long drive by our relaxed road trip standards.

Still, we’d factored in some interesting stops, the first one being Newnan, where we pulled up right outside the Courthouse in the centre of town.

Such a grand building makes a great centrepiece and we enjoyed reading the several historic plaques was we walked around.

The Civil War looms large in these parts and will feature further in the days to come.  For now though, there was something else of interest going on.

A Farmers Market.  Maybe we’ll get some of those Georgia peaches at last?

Before we found them, I spotted these blasts of colour sitting on a table.  I have no idea what those flowers are, but loved the way they were sitting in tin cans, looking gorgeous!

(yes, we found the peaches, too – phew – though they’ll need a day or two to ripen, we think)

From Newnan, we head for Warm Springs where Franklin D Roosevelt built his Little White House.

We found the museum interesting if a little unfocused and though we arrived to find it empty, it suddenly filled up – perhaps we had set a trend for the morning?

I enjoyed seeing the unconventional photographs of FDR, which are such a contrast to the familiar posed statesmanlike images.

A car like this would catch my eye anywhere, too.  Isn’t it fabulous?  Alongside was an explanation of how it had been converted to hand controls, but for me, it looked good as it is.

Having seen what there was to see in the museum – the stamp collection, the breakfast china, the collection of walking sticks and so on, we ventured outdoors to find the Little White House itself.

No Secret Service on duty today – or at least, it looked like an empty chair anyway.

With the Guest House on the left and the Servants House on the right, the Little White House was set slightly lower but reached by a sloping pathway through the trees in a most peaceful setting.

Outside was the plaque marking the site of his untimely death here in April 1945.  He’d been sitting for a portrait here when he was taken ill.

We entered through the kitchen where Daisy Bonner had scribbled on the wall.

She’d written above the cooker she’d used when FDR was in residence here.

It’s a small, simple two-bedroom cottage with his secretary’s room attached and it’s easy to see why he felt at home here.  Quite a contrast from the White House, that’s for sure.

Before we left, we passed the half-finished portrait  and the finished version the artist completed some years later; the only difference being the colour of FDR’s tie.  Yes, of course we exited though the gift shop!

Back then onto the Georgia byways where there seemed to be little traffic today.  It wasn’t the most interesting of roads and the trees on both sides prevented the enjoyment of any view.  But before too long, my hero announced that we were soon going to pass the State Line.  Better get my camera ready.

Ta dah! 

A second one, too!

Our first time in Alabama, we could soon check off state #44.   As soon as our feet had touched the ground, that is (our rules!)

The Alabama roads were pretty similar to the Georgia roads: tree lined and fairly empty.  But when the vehicle in front of us turned right to a “Scenic Outlook”, we followed.  Who knows?  It wasn’t for a while, though, that we noticed the satnav clock had changed.  Had we changed time zone as well?  (We certainly had!  We’re now on Central Time, we discovered)

We soon came upon the Cherokee Ridge Alpine Trail parking place and pleased of an opportunity to stretch our legs, hopped out of the car for a few minutes to take a look.

There in front of us was Lake Martin, a mad-made lake formed by a dam on the River Tallapoosa and that small island looked pretty nice I thought.

So I zoomed in for a better look!  I think it’d make an excellent picnic site, don’t you?  I wonder if it’s private or open to all?  I’m not sure I’d want to share it with anyone!

As we stood looking over the lake, a butterfly fluttered by and landed on the grass beside us.  It didn’t look in great shape, so having taken our photos, we left it to do what butterflies do and jumped back in the car. 

We drove on towards Montgomery, passing the power station as we crossed the Tallapoosa River and spotting a landmark on the horizon.

From here, it wasn’t a very prepossessing horizon, but hopefully tomorrow, we’ll see the Capitol building from a kinder viewpoint.

So, here we are for a couple of nights and with a great BBQ restaurant just around the corner, we’re pretty happy.

Oh, and now our feet have stood on Alabama earth, we can now say ker-ching too!

Not one, but two Nobel Prizes

More history and government than commerce today, we decided, and started our day at the Georgia State Capitol, just down the road.  First fun was getting in there.  We’ve already established that I don’t have photographic id and the two charming security chaps spent a while working a way round their rules and regs, finally accepting evidence of my home address and trusting my good character.

First surprise: The Georgia Capitol building is a workplace more than a showpiece.  We went straight to the 4th floor where there was a collection of historic ephemera telling the story of the history of the state legislature.

There were a few interesting artefacts too, including this tote bag promoting “participation above partisanship”.

I was especially interested in the “ERA” cabinet, learning for the first time that women still do not have equal rights in every state.  Mary was able to explain the details of course and we both knew that, were we living in one of these non-ERA states, we’d be out there campaigning!

Mind you, I’m not sure I’d want to be part of this kind of society.

We peered into the House

and then into the Senate, which, if we understood correctly, sit for around just one month per year. 

We chatted a while to the lady at the visitor desk who encouraged us to step inside the Governor’s office and sign his book.  His door had a very grand handle (!) and expecting a great crrreeeeeaaaak as I opened it, I ventured nervously inside.

I needn’t have worried.  The man himself wasn’t in the office this morning and his PA was utterly charming.  I signed his book and received some Georgia Peanuts from him in return.  I’m ashamed to admit that right then, I didn’t even know his name, but Mr Deal, thank you!

OK, from the Capitol, then, to the next place of interest.  More than that, though, for this is a National Historic Site: the Martin Luther King centre, comprising his birthplace, his church, a visitor centre and his grave.

We began at the Visitor Centre, where a short film gave us the background information to his life and work.  Some of it was familiar, but it was interesting to fill in the gaps and learn more about the context of his work.  There was an exhibition too, with this “march” as a centrepiece  and small round pods on various themes around it.  For some reason, this didn’t quite float my boat and I couldn’t help feeling that there must be more somewhere.  Not that there wasn’t plenty of information here – if anything, there was too much to stand and read at that time.

So we progressed to the next step, the memorial pool with the tomb set there at the end.  We were surprised that a figure of such national importance was commemorated in such suburban surroundings and felt that in some way, his contribution to US history had been under-valued.

A small exhibit in the hall nearby was similarly underwhelming with a few of his possessions and those of his wife, Coretta Scott King.  It was here we came upon the first Nobel Medal of the day, though.

From here, we went over to his birthplace but with the first timed entry available for late afternoon, had to make do with a view from outside.

I was pleased we’d visited the centre and certainly learned plenty about the man, his wife and his work, but I left feeling uninspired and rather disappointed by the whole experience.  I felt sure that such a charismatic character could have been better celebrated and was saddened by the lack of optimism and expressions of hope for the future.  After all, there is surely work still to be done to fulfil his dream and here could be the perfect place to inspire us all to follow in his footsteps.

Speaking of inspiring…

At the other end of the “Freedom Parkway” was another visitor centre; The Carter Center.  Jimmy Carter’s Presidential Library is here together with an exhibition of his life and work, too.

The story really did start at the beginning.

His years in the US Navy were shown and then his short political career before becoming President.

The story was well told with interesting detail and just the right balance of details.  As we learned more about the man and his family, we became more impressed by his approach to his work and to life generally.

 

I always find details like this interesting, enjoy seeing a person’s handwriting and love to see the scribbled notes alongside the formal typewritten address.  And yes, of course I’m delighted that someone thought to keep that bit of paper (even though it was an historical document, probably from the moment it was written!)

His four years as President were outlined alongside the events of the time and my question was answered: How come he didn’t serve a second term?  (Ronald Reagan and the Hostage situation in the US Embassy in Teheran)

Finally, there amongst the story of how he and Rosalynn have continued to work tirelessly for democracy around the world, to fight infectious diseases and encourage peaceful resolution of situations was the second Nobel medal of the day, less than a mile from the first one.

I liked a little pinboard by the exit door where an invitation to leave a message for the former President had resulted in a few heartfelt greetings.

Regardless of how we’d thought of him as President and just going by what we’d just learned about him as a man, the three of us all agreed with this simple sentence.  Lovely, isn’t it?

Now, we’d all been hoping for Gerogia Peaches on this trip, but have we seen a single one?  No!  So our last stop was going to be the Ponce City Market.  We’d not looked into details but there appeared to be a food market and gourmet stores there and it had come recommended by a couple of locals.  Here’s hoping for peaches.

 

Not a chance!  This wasn’t a food market at all but a newly renovated hipster shopping and lifestyle venue and though there’s a Farmers Market from time to time, today was not one of those times.

It didn’t matter really.  We pottered  around a little, in Anthropologie and West Elm, then mooched in a huge Williams Sonoma before being drawn to a curious drinks store.

At the tap store, your drink of choice is dispensed to a closed container (their licence is only for drinking off the premises) and having made our choices, we settled down at a nearby table and decided where to have dinner.

We settled on Indian Street Food, which was good but not quite as good as the gelato we found for dessert, just around the corner.

We had to behave ourselves though