Frances Hunter

The history behind the mystery of To the Ends of the Earth

 

In the Footsteps of Lewis & Clark
The Last Journey

The journey of Lewis and Clark across the continent from 1803-1806 is one of the most compelling human dramas in American history. We've been fortunate to follow in their footsteps on two great trips, following the Lewis & Clark trail from Fort Benton, Montana, all the way to the Pacific Ocean. (To read the details, check out our previous trip reports.)

But our novel, To the Ends of the Earth, focuses on a very different journey of Lewis and Clark. In the fall of 1809, just three years after returning in triumph from the West, Meriwether Lewis took another trip. It led him from St. Louis, the most remote outpost on the American frontier, to a lonely inn in Tennessee along a road called "The Devil's Backbone." Lewis's last journey and William Clark's search for justice and meaning form the backbone of our forthcoming novel.

On this page, we share excerpts from the book and our experiences as we followed Lewis and Clark's last journey in a 2004 trip that combined research, vacation, fun, and reflection.

Day 1: St. Louis and the Gateway Arch

Clark grinned and they continued up Main Street. If you didn’t look too close, Lewis thought, St. Louis possessed a certain charm. The whitewashed houses that rose step by step against the hillside sparkled in the sunshine, and the crumbling old Spanish citadel at the crest of the hill looked mysterious and exotic. But up close, the illusion fell away. Goats, pigs, and dogs wan-dered through narrow lanes littered with refuse of every description, and the houses crowded close to the narrow streets. After having spent so much of his life in open country, Lewis found the closeness oppressive.

Naturally we began our journey in St. Louis. We'd only been to this city once before for a political items collector's show at Union Station, and didn't get to see much else. This time we stayed at the Drury Plaza in the heart of downtown. This is the place to stay for Lewis & Clark fans, as there is a large sculpture of Lewis & Clark, Sacagawea, York, and Seaman in the lobby.

Mary at the Gateway Arch

Time was that downtown St. Louis was a declining, blighted place. With tireless effort by the city, it's been transformed into an attractive and visitor-friendly hub. The center of it all is the towering Gateway Arch, which dominates St. Louis with simple majesty. Its combined beauty and size are almost surreal.

The park that surrounds the arch covers the entire area of old St. Louis, the village that Lewis & Clark once knew. No trace of the old city remains to be seen, but we admired the Mississippi from the approximate spot where William Clark lived. The view of Illinois on the other side leaves a lot to be desired (mostly just a big casino). We both are big fans of John M. Barry's Rising Tide so enjoyed seeing the historic Eads River bridge that is discussed so extensively in that book.

Underneath the arch lies the Museum of Westward Expansion. This is an excellent museum where you can easily spend several hours. As far as Lewis & Clark go, we enjoyed the fine exhibit featuring scientific instruments, weapons, and cooking utensils; large panoramic photos of sites from the Expedition; a cool collection of Indian peace medals; and a creepy animatronic version of Clark that talks to you. It was hard not to think of Westworld.

After a forgettable dinner (I'm positive St. Louis has some great places to eat, but we haven't found them), we returned to the Arch for a spectacular fireworks show that was part of a summer festival celebrating the anniversary of the 1904 St. Louis World's Fair and St. Louis's survival and spirit. Sitting under the Arch and watching the beautiful fireworks reflected on the Mississippi and the shimmering Arch was a very special way to kick off our exploration of this city.

Day 2: The Missouri History Museum

The street was alive with people on foot; sometimes, it seemed that everyone in St. Louis spent half the day jostling up and down the city’s principal thoroughfare. All the stores fronted Main Street, and French Creoles and brash Americans came together daily to hustle for their fortunes. Negroes of all descriptions—dark and light, slave and free—carried on their own trade with wheedling street hawkers touting a variety of produce and goods just unloaded from riverboats. Something was always happening, and Clark enjoyed the constant buzz. He didn’t even mind dodging the dogs, hogs, mud puddles, and wagons and carts dragging merchandise through the streets.

The centerpiece of our visit to St. Louis was the Lewis & Clark Bicentennial Exhibition hosted by the Missouri State History Museum.

It's hard to describe how fabulous the bicentennial exhibit really was. Hundreds of Lewis & Clark documents, artifacts, and works of art were brought together from dozens of institutions, along with amazing Indian artifacts from the various tribes they encountered on the journey. In fact, one of the most noteworthy impressions left by the exhibit is how the Indians share center stage along with the Corps of Discovery.

The overall feeling was one of sensory overload (thank goodness for the exhibition book). Some of the impressions that lingered the most with me were the famous exchange of letters between Lewis & Clark that started it all in 1803; their actual journals and maps; and scientific instruments that they held in their hands. Lewis's Masonic apron was there, stained with blood--his family believes he was wearing it the night he was shot to death along the Natchez Trace in Tennessee. Clark's long rifle provided a poignant contrast with the fragile pair of glasses he wore as an older man. A quilt made for Lewis by his sisters while he was away on the Expedition gave a glimpse into how much this lonely man was loved. From the expedition itself, fascinating surviving artifacts included Clatsop hats and Lewis's botanical specimens.

We spent 2 1/2 hours pouring over the exhibit, then staggered saturated and overwhelmed into Meriwether's, the museum's restaurant. The gourmet Lewis would have approved! We had a yummy and elegant lunch of blue corn catfish with a neat stuffing and veggies, plus blueberry creme brulee for dessert! A great meal by any standard and by far the best eating we experienced in St. Louis.

We spent a little time looking at the museum's other exhibits about old St. Louis and the 1904 World's Fair. I would like to return to enjoy these again when I was not so full of looking. We spent a little time looking around Forest Park before making our way back to the hotel on the light rail along with hundreds of baseball fans.

By this time it was five o'clock and we were tired. Downtown was packed, so we simply ducked into a TGI Friday's and had a simple meal.

The opportunity to see the Bicentennial Exhibit was a once-in-a-lifetime privilege that I will never forget.

Day 3: William Clark's Grave and Cahokia Mounds

He rubbed the sleep out of his eyes and, taking care not to stumble in the darkness, went down to the sand spit and found a place to sit near the water. He looked at the blanket of gray mist covering the river, but he wasn’t really seeing it. In his mind’s eye, he saw instead the fog hovering in the giant, tangled trees along the Columbia River as the Expedition took their canoes through the river channels, coming ever closer to the Pacific Ocean they were so anxious to see. He could almost feel their heavy dugouts quiver in awe of the rough tidewater.

When we planned our visit to St. Louis for July, the last thing we expected was for the weather to be cold. But when we stepped out of the hotel this morning, that was exactly what we found -- wind, drizzle, and temperatures that lingered in the low 60s all day. Since we were planning to spend the whole day outside, the first thing we did was hustle over to the Gateway Arch and join the crowd of tourists buying souvenir sweatshirts!

"His life is written in the history of his country."

That errand accomplished, we headed off on our pilgrimage to Bellefontaine Cemetery, a very large, beautiful Victorian cemetery that is the last resting place of many prominent St. Louisians, including William Clark. When he died in 1838, Clark was buried at the farm of his nephew, a wealthy St. Louis businessman named John O'Fallon. His funeral revealed his status and popularity in the community; it was the largest ever held in St. Louis. Ironically, although the people prized Clark as a beloved representative of the past, they'd long since rejected most of what he stood for, especially decent treatment of the Indians in the West.

In the 1850s, after the cemetery opened, the graves of Clark, his wife Harriet, and several of their children were moved to Bellefontaine. The impressive obelisk and bust depicting a handsome and dignified Clark in the prime of life were unveiled in 1904 during the centennial of the Expedition with funds donated by Clark's youngest son, Jefferson. It was restored and rededicated in 2004.

We paid our respects by placing a Texas flag on the grave. I was struck by the fact that servants were also buried in the plot. Undoubtedly these were family slaves, and it was both touching and sad to realize how intertwined were the lives of masters and slaves in those years. It was also moving to see that some of the graves were recent, testifying to the family unity that still binds together the Clark descendants. Overall, this great American could not ask for a better resting place: a serene and peaceful spot surrounded by his family.

Liz at Cahokia Mounds. Once this was a metropolis.

We said goodbye to Clark and headed across the river to the Illinois side and our big stop of the day, Cahokia Mounds. About 500 hundred years ago, Cahokia was the site of one of the largest cities in the world. Thousands of people made Cahokia comparable in size to London during the same time period. I have to confess that I never heard a word about Cahokia until we started planning our trip to St. Louis and had no idea such a place ever existed in North America. It should be much more famous.

Of the people that lived in powerful Cahokia, today only their mysterious mounds remain. An object of veneration by the native Americans who came after the fall of Cahokia, and fascination by generations of white settlers, the mounds have been the object of only limited excavation. What has been discovered includes beautiful carvings, ceremonial graves, and evidence of human sacrifice similar to that practiced at corresponding sites in Mexico.

The visitor center has excellent exhibits and a good orientation movie, along with a tape that you can use to guide you on a walking/driving tour of the great city. I suggest bringing a picnic lunch which you can eat outside or inside in a spacious break area that also contains some vending machines.

We spent the day viewing and exploring the huge mounds and learning about the life of the people who lived around them. There is evidence that Cahokia was a walled city, and some of the stockade has been reconstructed. The inhabitants followed the sun calendar which they followed with a giant calendar, now reconstructed and called "Woodhenge."

Amazed and delighted by our experience at the mounds, we headed back to St. Louis. A little later, we took a farewell stroll down to Laclede's Landing, a restored entertainment district where we were afflicted with yet another mediocre meal. But no matter. On the way back we watched ducks and bunnies playing in the park, people of all types enjoying the Arch and the river, and a stupendous pink sunset behind the Old Cathedral. The silvery Arch reflected the colors back at the sun. Not unlike the mounds made by the mysterious Indians at Cahokia, this structure is truly an expression of the highest aspirations of mankind.

It was hard to believe that it would already be time to head out downriver tomorrow. There is so much to see and do here.

Day 4: The Flight Down River

It seemed like a lifetime ago, but he’d served at Fort Pickering once, as a lieutenant in the First Infantry. The fort looked exactly the same as it had then. Barracks, blockhouses, storage buildings, and men clustered behind a high log palisade, a rough little world of a few thousand square feet. Back then, the cramped confines of the fort’s log walls had seemed like a prison, and his duties had been stultifying, a long chain of routine tasks that kept him from the exciting adventures he longed for. Now the snug huts and solid log stockade seemed like the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen.

When Meriwether Lewis fled St. Louis by boat on September 4, 1809, he was sick, besieged, and on the run. Ten days later, after stopping to make his will in New Madrid, he would arrive at Fort Pickering, a small garrison at a place called Chickasaw Bluffs. By all accounts, the great explorer was drunk, desperately ill, and perhaps suicidal.

Hoping to avoid such a fate, we bid a leisurely farewell to St. Louis, not heading out on I-55 until well after rush hour traffic had subsided. Like Lewis, our destination was Chickasaw Bluffs, better known today as Memphis. We spent the day traveling through southern Missouri and Arkansas, an beautiful green landscape of trees and farms. The difference in tax base between the two states was apparent immediately upon crossing the Arkansas state line. The car shook so badly that I pulled into a roadside rest, certain that we had somehow blown a tire. But no; the road here is simply pitted and worn out.

Late in the afternoon, we enjoyed crossing the Mississippi at Memphis and making our way into town and the Days Inn Graceland, a modest but nice motel which would be our base for the night.

After a rest, we decided to try to renew our quest for a decent meal, though the prospects for that around Graceland appeared slim indeed. We decided to try a BBQ joint called Marlowe's, which provided hotel pickup in a huge pink Cadillac! We liked feeling like big shots for a change. And we were in luck--the restaurant itself turned out to be a friendly place with yummy food. We enjoyed good ribs, side dishes, and apple pie a la mode.

After arriving back at the Days Inn in style, we took a walk across the street to Graceland. I found myself unexpectedly moved by the hundreds upon hundreds of inscriptions that people had written on the stone walls surrounding the estate. One person even asked Elvis to look after her parents in heaven. The house itself is an island of striking serenity amidst the squalor and gimcrackery of Elvis Presley Boulevard. Perhaps Elvis himself was that same bit of serenity in the lives of millions of fans. Too bad that E himself never found the peace he helped bring into the lives of others.

Day 5: Homage to the King

The sun was setting over Big Town, but far from settling down to rest, the Chickasaws were abuzz with activity. Smoke from ovens and cookfires drifted over the camp, heavy with the smells of hot corn, hominy and roasting meat. Women carried baskets of apples in from the orchards, and children and dogs scampered across their path. If not for Seaman’s imposing appearance, few people would have bothered to stop and look them over. White men were commonplace in Big Town; as for blacks, many Chickasaws kept negro slaves themselves. They were accustomed to a constant parade of soldiers, traders and fortune-seekers crowding into their settlement, and they accepted the newcomers with peaceful, albeit grudging, hospitality.

As far as we could discover, nothing remains to be seen of Fort Pickering or anything else from the founding days of Memphis, so we decided to limit our stay here to a tour of the King's place. (Very few pictures are allowed at Graceland; here is a site that shows a little of what it looks like.)

We had visited Graceland before in the early 1980s. Since then, the accommodations for visitors have grown to include a spacious parking lot, an attractive visitor center, and really nice gift shops. We had wisely reserved our tour time in advance, so before we knew it we found ourselves herded on to vans with dozens of other people and given audio headsets for our tour.

The inside of Graceland is a combination of gracious Southern charm and '70s excess, all well-lived in. The dining room and living room with its peacock stained-glass windows are lovely, in contrast to the more way-out theme of the infamous green shag Jungle Room. It's easy to imagine Elvis sitting around here, playing his guitar or munching on his bowl of bacon.

A large portion of the mansion is given over to display of Elvis's trophies, including gold records and costumes. You can also view the offices where Elvis and his father Vernon worked. Outside, the grounds include an inviting pool and a horse paddock, along with the graves of Elvis, his parents, and his grandmother.

I had mixed feelings about Graceland. The lovely house is the fulfillment of Elvis's dreams, but also his prison. It was hard not to feel that we were all there to pick over the leavings of his life. On the other hand, Elvis himself wouldn't have cared, and judging by the huge crowds, the fascination with the King will never die.

We headed out of town, first stopping at the nearby Southland Mall for a great lunch at the Piccadilly Cafeteria. This southern chain has excellent gumbo, cornbread, and pie.

For the next leg of the journey, we retraced Lewis's last journey down "Pigeon Roost Road," a wilderness road leading through the Chickasaw nation. Today it's known as US 78, and just happens to lead to Tupelo, Mississippi, birthplace of the King.

While the forests and their millions of passenger pigeons are long gone, this part of Mississippi is pretty and green. As for Tupelo, we found it to be much larger and more prosperous than we expected. It appears to be something of a crossroads for commerce in this part of the state. A lot has changed since Elvis was born here on a "cold and frosty morn" in the midst of the Great Depression. (According to genealogists, Elvis's family were among the first white settlers in the area; it's one of those strange juxtapositions of history to think of Meriwether Lewis encountering one of Elvis's ancestors when he passed this way.)

Elvis's birthplace is located in a very nice park that Elvis himself funded for the city of Tupelo. The complex includes the home, an excellent visitor center, a statue of the young Elvis, chapel, and a wall with interesting reminiscences about Elvis from the people of Tupelo.

Liz at Elvis's birthplace: He was born in the front room on January 8, 1935

Elvis at age 13

 

The tiny two-room house was built by Vernon for $180, and included a wood stove and a pump and privy outside. Vernon lost the house when Elvis was about three years old, and the Presleys beat around Tupelo in various housing for the next ten years before finally fleeing their impoverished lives and moving to Memphis in 1948.

For today's visitor, restaurants and motels, both chain and independent, abound in Tupelo. We had a relaxing meal at an Outback Steakhouse. The Days Inn Tupelo, sadly lacking a pool but otherwise OK, will be our base for the next couple of nights as we explore the Shiloh battlefield and the Natchez Trace where Meriwether Lewis lost his life in 1809.

Day 7: Going Away to Shiloh

Mary at Shiloh

After making sure there was no officer in sight, one of the soldiers who’d been watching them from the barracks sauntered over. “You boys all right?” he asked. “That was some gittin’ upstairs right then.”

Lewis glared; he might not be at his best, but he wouldn’t let it be forgotten he was the governor of a territory and a former captain in the army. “Private,” he said, “Help this man up, and take him to my quarters. And watch your smart mouth.”

The area surrounding the Natchez Trace is rich in Civil War history, and you could easily spend a week or more simply touring Civil War sites. One thing we've learned on trips is that running yourself ragged trying to squeeze in multiple sites is no fun. Instead, we decided to spend one entire day visiting the Shiloh battlefield, site of one of the war's greatest battles.

Got up early and bagged a great breakfast at Shoney's and some fixin's for a picnic lunch at a nearby convenience store. The drive from Tupelo to Shiloh, just over the Tennessee border, was very scenic, leading mostly through a beautiful and prosperous residential area.

At Shiloh, the visitor's center contains some modest exhibits and an old but still enlightening film about what happened here April 6-7, 1862. While Mary has visited many Civil War battlefields, this was my first. I soon learned that the National Park Service does an excellent job providing maps and interpretations to guide you to various points of significance around the battlefield. Unless you are unusually hardy, you need a car to make your way around and then get out and walk around at each stop; these battles involved thousands of men and took places over a very large area involving all kinds of rugged terrain.

We began our tour of the battlefield proper at Pittsburg Landing on the Tennessee River. Here, Union gunboats played a pivotal role during the battle. More infamously, it was here that fleeing Union soldiers huddled on the banks and refused to fight any more. Many lessons were learned in this early battle about the need to train both men and leaders to face the onslaught of battle.

Another stop that made an impression on me was the Hornet's Nest, a spot where stouter-hearted Union troops withstood eleven Confederate charges over a period of seven hours before being forced to surrender by heavy artillery. The Confederates swept the field, but the sacrifice of the Union troops bought precious time for General Ulysses S. Grant to receive reinforcements that turned the tide of the battle on the second day.

We found a shady picnic area for lunch. The afternoon found us at Shiloh Church, where Union General William T. Sherman and Confederate General P.G.T. Beauregard both had their headquarters at various points in the conflict. It was this meeting house that gives the battle its name.

One of the most riveting sites was the spot where the Union field hospital stood. It may have been the first of its kind anywhere. It was hard to imagine the doctors coping with the massive casualties of the battle (over 10,000 on each side).

We concluded our tour of Shiloh at Bloody Pond, a low mossy pond where man crawled to get water or tend to their wounds during the battle. Many men died here, and the site still has a sober, lonely feeling.

Shiloh set the stage for eventual Union victory in the west, but the national cemetery there gives silent evidence of the cost of that victory.

Overnight back in Tupelo again tonight. Supper was at Vanelli's, a yummy Italian restaurant and local Tupelo success story.

Day 8: To the Ends of the Earth

When exploring the Natchez Trace, you've got to have the right headgear

The wild jasmine and bitterapple vines tangled around the tree trunks, climbed the branches, and leapt from one tree to the next. Together they wove a canopy so tight it was as if York and the Captain were riding under a green roof—that is, if a roof could support the weight of thousands of cooing pigeons. York was already bored with the sight, sound, and smell of those birds.

They splashed the horses across several creeks before they came to one that forced them to dismount. It wasn’t much of a stream really, narrow and shallow but with steep banks coated with slick cane roots. He and Captain Clark both lost their footing on the way down and fell into the creek, slicking their clothes with mud.

“Looks like that wash at Fort Pickering was a big waste a’ time.” Clark swatted around his head with his hat. “Damn muskeeters!”

“Ain’t bitin’ me none,” York said. “You the best skeeter bait there is, Cap’n. ’Long as they got you around, they leave this old black hide alone.”

As the trail entered into the swamp, mosquitoes and gnats rose in clouds around them. Huge cypress trees towered over stands of cane and scrubby pawpaws. York picked some pawpaws as they passed, the ripe fruit yielding easily to his gentle tug. Tucked inside his shirt, the fruit gave off a strong but pleasant scent.

An incredible day. We rose early and got a good breakfast at Shoney's, then bagged the fixings for a picnic lunch, gassed up, and bugged out of Tupelo for the Natchez Trace!

Our first stop near Tupelo was the site of a Chickasaw village. The foundations of several homes were still visible. It was interesting to learn about how this small but mighty tribe dominated the area for so long, fiercely repelling the French explorers when they ventured into Mississippi and Tennessee.

The Natchez Trace Parkway is an magnificent scenic drive, beautifully maintained and marked. But it is the stops that give you the idea of what once was a natural highway through the wilderness. For us, it was a chance to see a time and place come to life that had hitherto existed only in our imaginations.

Took lots of pictures along the way -- I've placed them on a separate page for those who are interested:

Our Natchez Trace photo gallery

At the various stops, we applied liberal amounts of Cutters™ and walked into the woods. Overhead, vines intertwine in the tree canopy to make a dense green roof. Along the path, fallen trees lie with generations of old leaves and sticks. At one stop we saw the graves of unknown Confederate soldiers; at another, stands of dogwood that evoked the memory of Meriwether Lewis and his companions riding this wild, lonely road in the final days of his life.

At the Tennessee-Tombigbee Waterway (called Tenn-Tom), we were interested to see a modern inland sea passage -- later learned that this project, though beautiful and technologically amazing, is considered one of the great federal boondoggles of all time. After viewing an incredible swamp, we fled from a giant bumblebee. We stopped to let a family of turkeys cross the road before enjoying a lovely creek at Buzzard Roost Spring, where Levi Colbert of the Chickasaw nation once had a "stand" (stands were stops that offered conveniences to travelers, including food, a place to camp, and sometimes lodging). We found an adorable but frantic black puppy here who had obviously been abandoned (a big pile of dog food had been dumped nearby).

Our next stop was Colbert's Ferry, where we stopped by the ranger station to report the puppy and then partook of our picnic. It was fun to relax here and gaze upon the wide and beautiful Tennessee River. And instead of the exorbitant ferry rides that made George Colbert notorious, we crossed in style on a nice bridge.

In the afternoon, we walked several sections of the Old Trace and drove an amazing portion into the deep woods. It was a strange and wonderful feeling to go back in time and experience something so historically significant and personally meaningful.

Finally we arrived at the stop called simply, "Meriwether Lewis," the final resting place of the great explorer. Here you can view a recreation of Grinder's Stand, where Meriwether Lewis lost his life on October 11, 1809, and visit the broken shaft monument that marks his grave. Near Lewis's grave lies a small pioneer cemetery, but Lewis remains alone. We left a flag in remembrance of this great American who has come to mean so much to us.

We stayed and refreshed ourselves for a while, then made our way to Hohenwald, Tennessee, a dinky burg with a modest motel catering to Trace visitors. We found a surprising good little Mexican restaurant for dinner, then retired early, sated with the emotion of the day's sights.

Day 8: Music City

He shouldered his way into the dank interior of the smoke and stink-filled cabin. People seemed to scuttle out of the way as he passed. It was a tavern, all right, but God, what a place! Clark had been in many a low roadside grog shop in his day, but this was the most abandoned and debauched scene he’d ever witnessed. In the corner nearest him, a cadaverous-looking wraith sawed on a gourd fiddle, scratching out a tinny tune while ragged men jigged and capered around him. Pox-ridden prostitutes prowled the crowd. Every soul in the place was clutching a tankard, tin cup, or gourd full of vile-smelling whiskey.

Hohenwald, Tennessee is a funny place. After our big pilgrimage on the Trace yesterday, we slept in a little this morning and woke up to a local talk radio program discussing whale bones and sea worms.

We breakfasted at Mickey D's, where we had another funny experience. The fellow behind the counter had such a heavy Tennessee accent that Mary came back to the table with our burritos saying, "They have something different here called hundred-mile sauce." After a while, it dawned on us that the man had asked her if she wanted "hot or mild sauce." Now we always called hot sauce "hundred mile sauce."

Hit a local laundromat. It was sure nice to drive away with a trunkful of clean clothes. Drove back to the motel and checked out. The person behind the desk seemed totally befuddled by my attempts to check out of the room. Is it customary in rural Tennessee to simply bug out without so much as a by-your-leave?

Anyway, we soon left Hohenwald in the rear view mirror and returned to explore the remaining portion of the Trace, which ends just south of Nashville.

Our Natchez Trace photo gallery

It was much hotter and more humid than yesterday, but we made a few more stops and got to walk some more sections of the Old Trace, see a beautiful waterfall, and take in a brick home built by one of the early ferry operators (this in a time and place where most people lived in log cabins). The most fun stop was the Sheboss Place. There's nothing to see here, but once it was the site of a stand, or inn, in which the husband of the owner answered every question by jerking his head towards his wife and muttering, "She boss."

Once you leave the Trace, you almost immediately find yourself sling-shotted forward in time into 21st-century Nashville. We careened into town and found a sub shop where we enjoyed some air conditioning and a good lunch. Then we navigated to the Opryland area where we crashed for a while at our home base for the next couple of night, the Red Roof Inn. Nice pool here!

We had tickets to the Grand Ole Opry, so we had an early supper at the Cracker Barrel and then hiked off in search of the theater. I'm told that "Opryland" was once a country music theme park where you could go on rides and hang out with the likes of Grandpa Jones. But no more. It's now an opulent resort and overblown mall. It seems to exist in some alternate reality completely detached from country music, Nashville, or Tennessee; instead it's a monument to brazen and orgiastic spending that could be plopped down anywhere there are people with money to spend.

It was quite clear to us that the Opry itself is now considered an embarrassing sideshow to the conspicuous consumption that surrounds it. We had a devil of a time even finding an employee who could direct us to the theater, and he seemed puzzled as to why anyone would want to go there.

Once we found the place, however, everything changed. The show was fantastic! None other than Porter Wagoner, 80 years old if he's a day and dressed in a sparkling magenta suit, kicked things off in splendid voice. His performance set the tone for what was to come. Over the next 2 1/2 hours, over a dozen acts, a mix of oldtimers and up-and-comers, put heart and soul into country, bluegrass, and Cajun music. Among the acts were the Whites, old favorite T.G. Sheppard, and Mel McDaniel, who blew the roof off with "Louisiana Saturday Night" and "Testify."

It was all excellent. We hiked back through the bizarre bacchanalia of the Opryland Resort feeling that we'd seen a great show. I wonder why the Powers That Be in the music industry consistently ignore the thrilling heritage and vitality that is country music.

Sidetrip: Don't Mess With Hohenwald, Tennesee

Within 24 hours of the previous entry we had an e-mail from Crystal Smith of Hohenwald, taking us to task for giving Hohenwald such short shrift. Ms. Smith is the secretary of the Lewis County Historical Society and of the Meriwether Lewis Chapter of the Lewis & Clark Trail Heritage Foundation, so she knows what she's talking about.

It turns out that Hohenwald has much more of a Lewis connection than its proximity to the gravesite. Ms. Smith writes:

I was looking through the internet when I came across your blog and very recent visit to Hohenwald [It was actually in 2004 - Frances]. I am sorry to have read that you find our town a funny little place. It is actually quite a nice place. I do hope you were able to visit the Lewis County Museum of Natural and Local History during your stay... they have a very nice pictorial history on the Meriwether Lewis Monument, in addition to, other interesting exhibits. The J.H. Warf/Lewis County Public Library would have been another invaluable location during your stay--you might have appreciated the local history room adorned with a larger than life portrait of M. Lewis and information about the Monument that is only available locally...

Lewis has always been an honored, loved, and important part of our community. Hwy 20 towards Summertown is the Meriwether Lewis Memorial Highway, and the old high school cornerstone reads 'Meriwether Lewis High School 1927'. It was the love of the local community that formed the Meriwether Lewis Association in the 1920s to lobby Washington to make his monument a National Monument. In fact, our county was created by the State of TN for the specific purpose of creating and a county around his gravesite in his name to honor him. The people of Lewis County
like to think of Lewis as our very own--he has rested in our soil for 196 years.

Ms. Smith and I went on to correspond about what she proudly calls her "colorful and good-hearted community." Hohenwald is growing and changing, and now boasts two Mexican restaurants and a new improved Wal-Mart under construction. And like William Clark, Hohenwald remains loyal to the memory of Meriwether Lewis. Just last month, the local American Legion Post 127
made Lewis a posthumous member.

Thank you, Ms. Smith, for writing and letting us know much more about Hohenwald!

Day 9: Lord Almighty, What a Wonder -- Andrew Jackson, Hell and Thunder

Neelly peeled his eyes open and moaned. He wasn’t on the Trace at all. He was in a run-down tavern on Water Street. Water Street was just far enough off Nashville’s main square to be disrespectable; this part of town was known as Cheapside. Only it wasn’t as cheap as he’d hoped. How long had he been here? Two, three days? Governor Lewis wasn’t with him any more.

If Meriwether Lewis had ever made it to Nashville, he might well have stayed with General Andrew Jackson, then head of the Tennessee militia. Jackson was only a few years older than Lewis & Clark -- like them he was part of an emerging generation of leadership that would take America beyond the Revolutionary generation.

The Hermitage

After a great breakfast at Bob Evans, our destination too was Jackson's home, the Hermitage. Visiting this presidential home turned out to be an educational and highly enjoyable experience, comparable to that at Mount Vernon or Monticello. As I've written before on this site, Jackson was controversial in his time and remains so today. Love or hate him, Jackson was one of the most important of all U.S. presidents. And his personal story was compelling and iconic; this rough man of humble beginnings was the first president to embody the American dream of rags to riches.

At a very nice visitor center, we saw a short film about Jackson and viewed some exhibits about him and his wife, the long-suffering Rachel. Theirs was one of the great love stories of American history. I especially enjoyed the mannequins dressed in the clothes they would have worn at the reception after Jackson's victory at the Battle of New Orleans in 1815, which accurately depicted their less-than-perfect physiques. In each other's eyes, they were beautiful.

A short walk takes you to the house, which Jackson began as a log cabin in 1804 and gradually added to and improved. It is now restored to the period of Jackson's retirement in the 1840s. I was interested to learn that the massive stone columns that support the plantation portico are actually wood, finished with a sand-textured paint.

Inside, the house is furnished almost entirely with Jackson's actual possessions; he had exquisite taste. While he knew how and when to project the image of a savage frontiersman, it was clear that Jackson, the first self-made man to become president, was determined to prove to the world that he was also the finest of Southern gentlemen. Beautiful wallpaper in the entrance hall depicts an entire scene from Greek mythology. The parlor and dining room are outfitted for gracious entertaining, and Jackson's study is a place of refuge and retreat, complete with books, newspapers, and a comfortable recliner.

Rachel died after Jackson's election and before he was sworn in as president, so he spent his presidency and retirement years as a widower. The bedrooms upstairs included Jackson's own, with a large portrait of Rachel, and those of his son, daughter-in-law, and many grandchildren, who lived with him throughout his retirement. It was nice to know that the aging Jackson was surrounded by a young and loving family.

Alfred's cabin

All of this genteel living was made possible by over 100 slaves. We saw the kitchen and pantry, the smokehouse, the springhouse, and some of the slave quarters, which are currently being excavated and restored. One touching story was that of Alfred, a slave born at the Hermitage in 1812. Highly capable, Alfred often ran the plantation in Jackson's absence. He once quietly asked a guest who complimented him on his situation, "How would you like to be a slave?"

After the Civil War, the plantation passed out of the hands of Jackson's family, but Alfred stayed on, eventually becoming the caretaker and the first tour guide at the Hermitage. He endured until his death in 1910 and is buried in the Jackson family cemetery onsite. His reconstructed cabin can now be seen, providing quite a contrast to the finery of the Hermitage itself.

The beautiful Hermitage gardens, beloved by Rachel, surround the cemetery and tomb of the Jacksons. In his old age, Jackson visited Rachel's grave every evening at sundown. He never ceased to grieve for her or to be bitter against his enemies for the vicious personal attacks and stress that caused her fatal heart attack.

Mary in the Hermitage gardens

We left the lovely (though very hot and humid) gardens and had a wonderful lunch in the onsite restaurant, highlighted by bread pudding with caramel sauce. Afterwards, we took in an exhibit of antique quilts, hit the gift shop (great book selection), and stopped by Tulip Grove, the nearby mansion of Jackson's adopted son, and the Hermitage Church (Rachel made him build it).

Dinner tonight at Cock of the Walk -- yummy catfish and exceptional hushpuppies. Topped it all off with a relaxing swim at the Red Roof pool.

Day 10: Old Kentucky Home

Surely the name still meant something. George Rogers Clark, the conqueror of the Northwest Territory. The man who had added Ohio, Indiana, Illinois, and the lands all the way to the Great Lakes to the map of the United States. But it was all so long ago, and so much had happened since then. Nobody cared about the ways in which George had been betrayed by others, and even less about the ways in which he’d betrayed himself.

We were tired today after so many big exciting days retracing Lewis & Clark's last journey. Fortunately, the next few days should be less hectic than the earlier part of the trip. Having left Lewis behind in his final resting place in Tennessee, we now left Nashville behind and traveled on to visit Clark's old stomping grounds.

Our agenda was light today, with the main event being a visit to the pretty and quaint town of Bardstown, Kentucky. In Bardstown's historic downtown, 19th-century red brick buildings center around a neat old courthouse.

Mary at the Old Talbott Tavern. GR Clark slept here -- and left without paying.

We had a great lunch at the Old Talbott Tavern, an inn that has been operating since 1797. Everyone stayed here, from Daniel Boone to Abraham Lincoln to Jesse James. The guests included George Rogers Clark, who reportedly left without paying the bill. Great local specialities in a relaxed and cozy atmosphere. I finally got a chance to try burgoo, a yummy tomato-based stew.

After lunch we poked around the shops and then putted over to My Old Kentucky Home State Park, an estate once owned by the Rowan family and known as Federal Hill. This historic home is famous as the place where Stephen Foster, the great songwriter, was inspired to write the state song of Kentucky.

The tours here are given by teenagers in mock antebellum dresses and impart virtually no information about the family that lived here, Stephen Foster, or life in old Kentucky. Given the impressive level of interpretation we'd encountered elsewhere, I think My Old Kentucky Home can do better. [Note: This blog entry recounts a 2004 visit. Your mileage may vary.] But the home and grounds are beautiful and well worth a stop anyway. I especially enjoyed seeing the log cabin outside where Judge Rowan hid out from his ten children.

We took scenic Bardstown Road all the way into Louisville. Our home for the next few nights is a nice downtown hotel, the Galt House.

Still a bit pooped, we had supper at Bearno's, a pizza place downtown that serves enormously filling pizza! The two of us barely made a dent in a "medium." But it was really tasty.

We capped off the day with a sunset stroll along the Ohio River.

Day 11: Long Knife

Graves of the Clark brothers: George, Edmund, and Jonathan, at Cave Hill Cemetery

Locust Grove. George Rogers Clark was sheltered here by his sister in the last years of his life.

On a good day, George Rogers Clark could muster what little strength remained in his arms and push his frail body around on crutches, teetering around the house on his one remaining leg. He could no longer live on his own—the stroke and the amputation had made that decision for him—but on a good day, he could move himself from his bed to the door leading to the front porch at Locust Grove, the fine home owned by his sister Lucy and her husband. Once there, he could collapse into the big, comfortable chair his sister had provided for him, and spend the day drowsing, dreaming, and watching the traffic to and from the growing city he had founded thirty years earlier.

Today was not a good day.

If you want to learn a lot about the Clark family, Louisville, Kentucky is the place to visit.

Our first morning here we had a leisurely breakfast at the hotel and then picked up the fixings for a picnic lunch. Then we made our way to Cave Hill Cemetery, not far from downtown. We had a nice chat with a customer representative at the cemetery about our interest in Lewis & Clark and the upcoming book, and he directed us to the gravesite of George Rogers Clark.

The "Hannibal of the West" is buried here along with his brothers Edmund and Jonathan (also a general in the Revolution), Jonathan's wife Sarah, and a number of other family members. The graves are well-tended and marked with fading tributes from the DAR. We left our Texas flags for the brothers and felt grateful for their service (often thankless) to America.

With courage undaunted, we launched ourselves into Louisville traffic, and made it over to Locust Grove, the historic home of William and Lucy Clark Croghan and the last home of George Rogers Clark. The Clarks and Croghans were among the leading families of old Louisville and the neighborhood surrounding Locust Grove is still very fine. Zachary Taylor grew up next door.

We had a nice picnic outside before starting our tour with a short film about George and the house. The tour itself was one of the best house tours we've ever experienced. We were the only people to join Gene, a talkative and very knowledgable older gent who spent a good hour taking us in each room of the Georgian manor built by the Croghans in the 1790s. Upstairs the Croghans had a ballroom where Lewis and Clark displayed their discoveries after the Expedition in 1806. It must have been a proud day for the Clarks to see "Billy" in his hour of triumph.

It was easy to get a sense of the family eating, talking, sleeping, and living in this genteel but informal place. Lots of hard work went on here too. William Croghan was one of Louisville's most successful businessmen, and the Croghans owned more than 50 slaves, about whom not much is known.

In search of York no more

After George became disabled in 1809, he came to live with Lucy, his younger sister. We saw the downstairs bedroom where he stayed and the porch where he liked to sit and watch the world go by. It was sad to think about the bitterness that engulfed this great American in his later years, but at least he was always loved, cherished, and protected by the fiercely loving Clarks.

After the tour, we looked at the exhibits, highlighted by a great quilled hunting shirt once owned by George. Great gift shop here!

Tonight we had a pleasant dinner at a Mexican place called Las Aztecas. Strolled home via the Belevedere, a plaza that overlooks the mighty Ohio. Here a dashing statue of George leading you into the West has been joined by a great new statue of York. I couldn't help but chuckle at the thought of William Clark being galled at this overdue tribute to his slave, now remembered as a pioneering African-American.

Day 12: Where It All Began

Reconstructed cabin of George Rogers Clark. George and Billy lived here before Billy left for the Lewis & Clark Expedition.

Neat fossil beds at the Falls of the Ohio.

He pushed his bowl of stew away. The journals were all he had left of that triumphal time, and now they were in a shambles. There was no book, no manuscript. Lewis had done nothing, and it was left to him to try to put the scattered pieces back together. But if he couldn’t, it might as well never have happened. He and Lewis might as well never have gone—

And if they hadn’t gone, where would he be? Still living with George in a cabin at the Falls of the Ohio? Maybe if I were, George would still be all right—maybe he wouldn’t have lost his leg—

Angry with himself, he rejected the thought and got to his feet. To hell with it, he thought as he walked toward his cabin. He was sick and tired of cleaning up other people’s messes. To hell with George, and to hell with Lewis. I ain’t responsible for every damn thing that goes wrong in the world—

Another huge day. Today we visited the Falls of the Ohio, just a short jump from Louisville (across the George Rogers Clark bridge) to Clarksville, Indiana.

This place, an Indiana State Park, turns out to be really neat. The remarkable rapids that dominated river navigation in the early days of Louisville are now covered, but a large area remains where you can walk and see amazing fossils just lying around. I can't imagine what it must have been like 200 years ago, when George Rogers Clark selected this site for his cabin. We walked along the river amidst huge boulders and pieces of driftwood, and discovered shells and other ancient sea creatures clearly imprinted on the rocks.

In the visitor center, we saw an excellent film about the geological history of this area and how it changed over the years, including what it has meant to the people who live along the Ohio. The museum showcases interesting exhibits of dinosaur and mammoth bones and fossils as well as the human history of the area. At this place, early natural scientists, including George Rogers and William Clark, began to understand the ancient history of our planet.

When we were done looking, we took a short drive (easily walkable if it hadn't been so hot) up to Point of Rocks, which overlooks the Falls. We had a picnic lunch and shared our Chex Mix with a friendly white dog before checking out the reconstructed cabin of George Rogers Clark.

A ranger inside provided details about this rustic home, such a contrast with genteel Locust Grove. Clark's cabin is a simple place with a stone hearth and a half-floor upstairs for a bedroom. Guns and powder horns hung on the walls provide the decor. It was easy to see that George was truly penniless except for his land awarded for his Revolutionary service.

A few small exhibits highlighted his life and career, and a table was set up to show how he made globes as a pasttime. What a pity that this military genius and man of science was thrown aside by the country he helped to save.

It was from this spot that Meriwether Lewis tied up his keelboat in 1803 and took William Clark away from his life as George's caretaker and into history.

The State Library of Indiana has a great site about the archaeology of this and other George Rogers Clark sites.

Feeling awed and humbled, we careered back to Louisville and experienced the usual traffic adventure returning to the Galt House. It was super hot, so we spent what was left of the afternoon flaked out by the frigid pool.

We had a swell dinner at Deke's Marketplace Grill (now called Bistro 301). I got a delicious Hot Brown and we had Derby Pie for dessert!

Day 13: March to Vincennes

After breakfast, we bugged out of Louisville and headed across the Ohio into Indiana. Our destination today: Vincennes, Indiana, the site of the greatest victory of the Revolutionary campaign of George Rogers Clark.

Most of the drive to Vincennes was through a winding road through the woods, which would have been awesome if we hadn't had to share the road with so many trucks. The towns we passed through varied greatly in prosperity. We saw big farmhouses and bright red barns in some places; in others, buildings were abandoned and in the process of decay.

Vincennes looks a bit down-at-the-heels itself; from what we saw, this one-time railroad town appears to have its best days behind it. I bet a lot of people don't know that the most magnificent national memorial outside of Washington, D.C. can be found here! The Greek temple style George Rogers Clark memorial is gigantic in scale and situated in a lovely park overlooking the Wabash River.

At the visitor's center, we saw some small but interesting exhibits, received instructions form a guide in period dress who made darn sure we didn't go away ignorant of the difference between GR and William Clark, and took in a good film about George and the Vincennes campaign.

George Rogers Clark Memorial, Vincennes, Indiana

Inside the memorial

 

A pleasant walk takes you to the monument itself. Inside the rotunda, a beautiful statue of George stands in the center. Some of his famous quotations are displayed on the floor and walls, including:

"If a country is not worth protecting, it is not worth claiming."

and

"Great things have been effected by a few men well conducted."

On all sides are large murals done by Ezra Winter depicting the scenes of George's heroism, including leading settlers into Kentucky, taking Kaskaskia, and leading the march to Vincennes. A lot of thought had obviously gone into the meaning of George's life, and it was nice to see him remembered in this way, especially after the bittersweet visit to Point of Rocks the day before.

Francis Vigo, Italian immigrant and fur trader, helped the patiot cause with money and intelligence. Like Clark, he died in poverty, finally being reimbursed for his services in 1875 -- a century after the war!

We looked around the grounds a little and especially enjoyed seeing the great statue of George's friend, the great patriot Francis Vigo. Took a little walk into downtown, passing the historic church with its statue of another of Clark's benefactors, Father Pierre Gibault, then got some lunch in a deserted sandwich shop called The Purgatory.

The last hurrah for this trip was the home of another military hero and Vincennes resident, William Henry Harrison. Grouseland is the fine home that Harrison built when he governed the Indiana territory from 1801 to 1813. From here, Harrison both fought and treated with the Indians. Eventually he was personally responsible for the acquisition by the United States of vast tracts of Indian land. While today known primarily for dying a month after his inauguration as president, Harrison was a towering figure in early America, controversial and with a strong personality, well worth learning about.

He was also a contemporary of Lewis and Clark and is a character in our work-in-progress, so we were excited to see his house. We learned about how he built the place to resemble the Berkeley, the mansion on the James River in Virginia where he grew up. This obviously meant a lot to Harrison; he took on a lot of debt and went to a great deal of trouble to build the house exactly the way he wanted it. It was interesting to think about him trying to recreate his genteel upbringing on this rough frontier. Harrison and his wife Nancy raised ten children in this house.

Grouseland

After the Harrisons were gone, Grouseland declined. By the 20th century it was being used as a barn. The DAR saved the house from destruction and now it is very well restored, with neat portraits and period furnishings, some of which actually belonged to the Harrisons. I loved how we were allowed to set our own pace looking in the rooms and imagining their lives. Of great interest was the bullet hole in the dining room shutter, where someone took a shot at Harrison in 1804 when he was walking with his baby son in his arms. Hmmmm...fodder for another book?

We enjoyed it all. Bought a couple books in the gift shop and then headed south for our final hotel of the trip, a Best Western just north of Evansville. Hit the pool and then had a nice farewell dinner at the Log Inn, a restaurant where Abraham Lincoln supposedly dined in 1844. If he did, I hope he had as nice a time as we did.

Back to the top

Copyright © Frances Hunter | Design by brampamp