Michigan Trip
April 2010
Part Three
* * * Part One * * * Part Two * * * Part Three * * *
Day five of the Michigan Trip was just as eventful as the previous four
days. The first stop on our itinerary was the KFC headquarters in Louisville,
which had a museum filled with Kentucky Fried Chicken memorabilia and some
of founder Colonel Sanders' belongings. When we entered the building and into
the small room that houses the museum, we were stunned to be face to face
with the most life-like wax figure either of us had ever seen. This sculpture
looked exactly like the famous colonel. We were even more shocked when we
progressed farther into the room, because, apparently equipped with a motion
detector, the figure started talking! It was actually an animatronic robot. My
father and I found this hysterical for some reason, and continued to laugh while
we perused through the different exhibits. One of the standouts of the collection
was an original Norman Rockwell painting of the colonel, which hangs on a wall
just outside the entrance to the museum room. I've only eaten at KFC once in
my life and wasn't super excited about going to the museum, but I ended up
having an enjoyable time and I'm glad we went.
After, we headed over to Cave Hill Cemetery, where Colonel Sanders
himself is buried. We went to several other graves while there, including the
burial sites of Pete Browning (for whom the first Louisville Slugger was created)
and Patty Hill (the co-author of the Happy Birthday song). We had a lot of
trouble pinpointing Ms. Hill's final resting place, but an employee named Ricky
Karcher helped us with that before we drove ourselves crazy. Then, the two of
us made our way to Colonel Sanders' very cool grave, which we have been told
is the most popular tourist attraction in Kentucky. Apparently, cemetery
employees eventually became tired of being asked where the fast food pioneer
is buried, and now a line painted down the middle of a long and winding
cemetery road leads visitors to his grave. The next stop was in Frankfort, which
is the state capital of the "Bluegrass State". After I had my photograph taken at
the state house itself, we went to Frankfort Cemetery, which is just a few miles
away. It is there that famed explorer and pioneer Daniel Boone is likely buried,
near the edge of a cliff that looks out toward the state house. I say likely
because Missourians maintain that they have him for eternity, and that the
wrong body was exhumed and moved to Frankfort in 1845. Anyway, I think that
he is there on that cliff in Kentucky.
A few yards away is Richard Johnson, an eccentric vice president noted
for being the assumed killer of Tecumseh, a famous Native American leader.
The two of us snapped the photos we needed there and then drove to the city of
Lexington to visit some more burial sites. Even before we entered Lexington
Cemetery, I could see the immensely tall monument that holds the remains of
Henry Clay. Clay is often called "Kentucky's favorite son", and the sheer height
of his tomb was able to convey that message. In fact, it was somewhat difficult
to capture the entire grave in a photograph, especially with scores of trees in the
way. We could not get into the tomb because it was locked, but we were able to
get decent photos of the politician's sarcophagus through the metal gate. One
of Clay's neighbor's in the cemetery is VP John Breckinridge, who served
during James Buchanan's sole term. Having accomplished everything we
wanted to do in that particular cemetery, we headed for the gate. But we would
not be leaving just yet. It was locked.
That's right. We were locked in yet again. And it wasn't even close to being
dark yet. It was about 4:00 PM! There was a telephone number on a sign at the
entrance, but it was not legible, so my father called the police station. Someone
there said that if we took every right turn in the cemetery, we would reach the
maintenance building and that someone there would let us out. That would
have worked, had any of the maintenance crew been there. There was a house
at the rear of the cemetery though, and when my father knocked on the door, a
man answered. We asked him if he was the caretaker and if he had a key to let
us out. He replied that he was not the caretaker and that his wife, who was not
home had the key. So this man lives in a cemetery, is not the caretaker, and is
trapped inside when his wife leaves the house. Odd. All the same, he said that
there should be a security car driving around, and that we should be able to find
it so the guard could let us out. We found the guard back at the entrance
actually letting out some other visitors who were locked in. Jumping on the
bandwagon, we decided we didn't want to spend the night in the cemetery and
departed.
Around sunset, we got to Dayton, Ohio, where I wanted to go in order to
see the graves of the Wright brothers. The gate was locked, but we had no
trouble jumping the short stone wall to get inside. A women who was there
walking her dog told us where Wilbur and Orville were interred, and we set off
for that spot after thanking her. A few yards later, my father spotted a sign
pointing to the grave of Erma Bombeck, a famous author and humorist who I
had never heard of. My father said that we should go back and see her grave,
but the Wright Brothers were our main priority, so we strode as quickly as we
could to their burial sites. With the sunlight dwindling, we took the photos we
wanted and went back to find Erma Bombeck. Despite the sign pointing to it, we
couldn't see her grave, only this giant boulder. We spent about twenty minutes
scouring the cemetery until we deduced that the boulder was her grave. When
we finished up, we piled into the car and went to Columbus to go to the state
capitol. It was 10:00 when we reached Columbus and the photos we took were
terrible, but they will have to do for now. About four hours later, we found an
Econo Lodge in Washington, Pennsylvania after a long and agonizing search
for a place to stay. The Econo Lodge did not look friendly at all, starting with its
sign, which was actually one of those signs where you can rearrange the letters
yourself. The window of our room was unlocked, setting us up for burglary, and
the door had several knife marks along its edge, telling us that someone had
tried to break in before, or had maybe even succeeded. After barricading the
door, locking the window, and jamming another window with no lock in the
bathroom, we went to bed hoping we we would live to tell the tale of the Econo
Lodge.
On day six, we drove to many historical sites in Pennsylvania, including the
state capitol and the grave of several signers of the Declaration of
Independence and the Constitution, such as Philip Livingston and James Smith. Livingston gave us some trouble, as did Spiro Agnew in Maryland, but
we did eventually find them both. Also that day, we visited the burial sites of Johnny Unitas and Thomas Mifflin, yet another Constitution signer. My
father's friend Andy, who I mentioned on the page about our Virginia Trip, was
hospitable enough to let us stay at his home after a long day of grave hunting.
On the final day of our journey, we traveled to the New Jersey State House, the
graves of patriots David Brearley, George Clymer, John Hart, and Abraham Clark. Last on our itinerary was the grave of Garret Hobart in Paterson. My
father and I rushed as fast as we could to the cemetery where he was interred
so long ago, but arrived just as it was closing. A grumpy employee was shooing
out a family from Colorado who had come to visit some deceased relative, and
none of them were happy. We tried fruitlessly to persuade her to stay at the
entrance while we swiftly ran to the grave and took our photos, but she refused.
Then, when all else failed, my father came up with something crazy.
"What if," he proposed to the employee, "you locked us in the cemetery?"
That way, we would be able to see the grave and she would be able to leave.
What?! Get locked in a cemetery voluntarily? It was completely crazy, but it
worked. Leaving our rental car by the curb, we set off on foot to find the vice
president's mausoleum, the location of which the employee had no clue. We ran and ran down various rows until I finally found Hobart's tomb and waved down my father. We took several pictures and set our minds on finding a way out, something that would not be easy. Half of the grounds were surrounded by an eight foot wall, and completely surrounded by barbwire. After walking the perimeter, however, we did find a spot where the barbwire sagged, conveniently near a tree. Within moments, we were both on the other side, having overcome being locked in another cemetery. Our mission accomplished, we set our sights on home, only stopping briefly at one of our favorite hamburger joints, Louis' Lunch in New Haven.
Now having read all about this expedition, I hope you leave this page
knowing the following moral: if you are ever tired and find yourself driving by the
Econo Lodge in Washington, Pennsylvania, keep on cruising...
