Washington, the City of Enchantment

Broadcast from WCAP, September 26, 1924C. Francis Jenkins

Broadcast from WCAP, September 26, 1924

C. Francis Jenkins

Washington is the home of our Federal Government; but it is more than that—it is a delightful place to work, a stimulus to excellence in mental activity. Those of us who had wandered about more or less aimlessly before we discovered Washington well understand how its genial climate called forth the Presidential praise of our honor guest from the cool, green hills of Vermont.

Add to the delight of the climate, the charm of Washington’s setting, and one appreciates why, from the Executive Mansion outward to the very rim of federal activity, all remain, if they can, after leaving office. Woodrow Wilson stayed here, until he passed away. President Harding was hurryinghome when his end came. The only living ex-president resides in the District.

Abraham Lincoln was loath to leave Washington, it is said, and so preferred a summer cottage in the Soldier’s Home Grounds, as did many of his successors, rather than a more elaborate executive residence elsewhere, while the White House was getting its annual dressing.

In the house now occupied by the Cosmos Club, Dolly Madison ruled social Washington in such a scintillating setting that even the widows of presidents, with few exceptions, have made their later homes here.

Nor is it strange, for this is the city the unequaled plan of which was worked out with such loving care by Major Charles L’Enfant, as he leaned over a drawing board in his home near the old Tudor Mansion; the parks of the plan later beautified by the landscape gardener, Andrew J. Downing.

And this magnificent dream city had the proper antecedents, too, for it was from this very site the old Indian chief Powhatan ruled his own vast territory before ever the white man had set up the capital of a nation dedicated to peace and opportunity.

Many eminent statesmen and great orators have found Washington environs so satisfying that they have spent their last years within this forest-like city. The inimitable Henry Clay was buried here in 1852; Elbridge Gerry, a signer of the Declaration of Independence, lies in the Congressional Cemetery; and John Lee Carroll, a former Governor of Maryland, found his last resting place in a local graveyard.

It was in Washington as the head of the Federal Party that that distinguished orator, Daniel Webster, made his indelible impress on American history.

In the old “Union Tavern” on a site now occupiedby a large apartment building one could have found hobnobbing with resident genius, in that early yesterday, such guests as Louis Phillipe, Count Valney, Lord Lyons, Baron Humboldt, Charles Talleyrand, Jerome Bonaparte, Washington Irving, Charles Dickens, General St. Clair, Lorenzo Dow, John Randolph, and perhaps Charles Goodyear, when he was asking for a patent for vulcanizing rubber.

Even the dashing Robert E. Lee, leaving his ancestral home overlooking Washington, rode regretfully away to duty in his beloved south.

One may perhaps concede that associations would attract retired admirals and generals to a residence here—Admirals Evans, Dewey, Schley, Sampson, Peary, and Generals Greely, Crook, Wheeler, Miles and Pershing, within my own unprompted memory, but what is the secret which brings back to Washington those who have looked upon the enchanting spots of our wonderful country; the three Johns, for example, John C. Freemont, the great northwest pathfinder; John W. Powell, explorer of the Grand Canon of the Colorado; John A. Sutter, discoverer of gold in California.

Even Governor Shepherd, whomadeWashington, and afterward was practically banished to Mexico, prayed that he might be brought back to the city of his dreams, and his wish gratified, he lies at rest amid the grassy slopes of Rock Creek Cemetery.

It was ever thus; even stubborn old Davy Burns must have thought well of Washington for he brought from his native land not only a charming daughter but the bricks with which he builded a cottage for her, and from whose humble door this Scottish lassie later went to a haughty family and a mansion as the wife of Major General Van Ness.

Not only from official life, but from all fields of activity, the capital city attracts to itself an unusual aggregation of mentality—scientific and literary and industrial.

Poets and great writers, noted scientists and renowned inventors have done their best work in the invigorating atmosphere of the capital, washed clear by the mist of the Great Falls of the Potomac.

It was here Francis Scott Key lived when he wrote “The Star Spangled Banner,” a spot marked by the new memorial bridge just completed; here Harriet Beecher Stowe wrote that immortal story, “Uncle Tom’s Cabin”; Walt Whitman the first edition of his “Leaves of Grass”; James Bryce “The American Commonwealth”; and Owen Meredith his “Lucile.”

In a rose-covered cottage on the heights overlooking the river, across from the Arlington National Cemetery, Mrs. E. D. E. N. Southworth wrought; and in a less flowery abode impecunious Edgar Allan Poe wrote much of his “spooky stuff.”

Looking down upon the city from the east, John Howard Payne, in tranquil contentment, on his return from a sojourn in a foreign land, wrote the one song which will never die, “Home, Sweet Home.”

In isolated serenity in Rock Creek Park stands the cabin of Joaquin Miller, “the poet of the Sierras,” now the shrine of the artist as well as the writer.

Across Lafayette Park, opposite the White House, George Bancroft, the great historian, calmly laid down his pen in his 91st year and passed to his great reward.

And it was here that the painter James McNeill Whistler began his climb to an artistic, world-renowned fame.

As for science, why Washington is the scientificcenter of the world. More revolutionary discoveries which have been the foundations of great industries have been made in the District of Columbia than any other ten miles square in all the world.

It was here that the great Joseph Henry spent the most prolific period of his sixty years of usefulness.

On the bosom of Rock Creek, Fulton first floated the model of his steamboat, theClermont; and on the Potomac River, Professor Langley tested out the aerodynamic principles upon which all airplanes are built, and at a time when the “flying machine” was a subject not mentioned in elite scientific circles.

In the observatory on Cathedral Heights, that great astronomer, Simon Newcomb, worked; and nearby Cleveland Abbe, the famous meteorologist, published the first daily weather reports.

Between Washington and Baltimore, Professor S. F. B. Morse, in 1844, put his telegraph to work, the first telegraph operator being Theodore N. Vail, late president of the A. T. & T. Company. Dr. Graham Bell perfected his telephone here, Professor Tainter the wax cylinder phonograph, and Mr. Berliner the talking machine.

Both the typecasting machines, the linotype and monotype, were invented in the District; and here a stenographer in the Life Saving Service invented the first motion picture machine, the prototype of the projector used in every picture theatre the world over to this very day.

From the hills of Virginia, across the river, the first wireless message ever transmitted was sent into Washington; and from Washington to Philadelphia the first photographs by radio were sent.

When the Daughters of the American Revolution sought a permanent home no place could successfully compete with the charm of Washington; and herealso the American Red Cross and the Pan American Union set up their respective domiciles.

In Kendall Green Park, in the northeast section of the city, the Columbia Institute for the Deaf was set up, the only Institution of its kind in the world, the gift of Gallaudet to the afflicted.

It was in Washington that another philanthropist, William W. Corcoran, built the Louise Home for Southern gentlewomen, as well as the Corcoran Art Gallery, the latter a gift to the city. He was laid away in Oak Hill Cemetery, the resting place of an unequaled gathering of distinguished Americans.

In the north of the city is the Walter Reed Hospital, named in honor of Dr. Walter Reed, who heroically risked his life to prove that yellow fever germs were communicated by mosquitos.

The Carnegie Institute “for the encouragement of investigation, research and discovery,” and the Carnegie Geophysical Laboratory are both located here.

In Washington the Geographic Society was established, and the uniqueGeographic Magazineis published; and here the beautiful home for the National Academy of Science has just been dedicated.

So the atmosphere of Washington works its witchery on resident as well as those who stop here but briefly, a mental stimulus of no uncertain potency; and as for scenic beauty, it is unequaled and getting more beautiful and more attractive all the time.

As I fly above the city its streets are hidden under a criss-cross of green trees, with the superb white dome of the Capitol standing out above the verdure in majestic splendor; and over to the west the Lincoln Memorial, looking for all the world like a jewel box of alabaster. And on the rim of the mist beyondstands a bowl-like marble amphitheatre keeping watch over the grave of the Unknown Soldier, while still farther around to the north looms the great National Cathedral on Mount St. Albans, where lies “the man of peace.”

And it was this inspiring sight that greeted the homeward bound, round-the-world flyers as they glided over the city to a landing in Boiling Field.

An annual pilgrimage to this mecca of glorious past and wondrous present, with its wealth of white buildings, its miles of park roads, its spring cherry blossoms and autumn colors is always inspiring.

From whatever point of view, Washington well deserves the pride of possession of all worthy Americans.

Every normal man instinctively seeks a recreational activity—hunting, fishing, riding, tennis, golf. The author’s relaxation from research work is flying an airplane—and it’s delightful sport.

TRANSCRIBER’S NOTESTypos fixed; non-standard spelling and dialect retained.

TRANSCRIBER’S NOTES

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