Geography teachers and buffs will be pleased today as it’s time for another “Geo Quiz.” Thanks to the Fish Market and oysters, we can offer up this one. (Ah, a subtle Valentine's Day nod).
We confess we fail on all of these, but fun to learn. Hoopers Island in particular has some compelling stories including pirates, the Hooper’s Island Lighthouse and sadly, the rising water stealing their land.
Three of these are from Virginia and one from Maryland.
Can you place their names?
Black History Month provides a great opportunity for all Americans to reflect on the struggles, stories and successes of African Americans.
To do our part, we created a word cloud from the almost four dozen historical markers in Old Town and Parker Gray that touch on black history. We present it here.
One of my favorite markers is this one. It points out something that is so vital to our understanding the history of Alexandria.
From the establishment of Alexandria in 1749 to the present time, African Americans have been a vibrant part of this city’s history.The City of Alexandria would not exist in its present form were it not for the economic, social, and cultural contributions of African Americans both slave and free.
I have learned a lot about Alexandria's black history through these markers. They touch on a number of central cores to the African American experience here and elsewhere. I would argue the most essential one is the church. Several state highway markers give us glimpses, including this one.
Much has been taken away from the black communities in Parker-Gray, including the name of the neighborhood itself. But the churches have nearly all survived. Scattered throughout both Old Town and Parker Gray, they stand like a divine truth that gives the worshippers and peoples strength and bind together this part of the city.
As we move forward in Alexandria and across the country, let us build on the progress that has been made. Great men and women of color have shown us what is possible, even under the most dire of circumstances. Let us hope future historical markers speak not of yet more barriers, but about the ways we worked and grew together.
“As a young girl thinking over my first book, I had resolved that I would write of the South not sentimentally, as a conquered province, but dispassionately, as a part of the larger world. I had resolved that I would write not of Southern characteristics but of human nature.” -- Ellen Glasgow
One of the books I bought last year was “Virginia’s Remarkable Women” by Emilee Hines. The stories of some of them like Martha Washington and Dolly Madison are more familiar than others. So far, we enjoyed reading about the lesser-known Anne Newport Royal, a story waiting for Hollywood if there ever was one.
We kept that same kind of philosophy in picking our next read. Using Hines book, as well as Susan Goodman’s bio and other sources, let’s take a brief look at the extraordinary life of Ellen Glasgow.
Born and raised in Richmond, Ellen Glasgow (1873-1945) defied the conventions and norms of her time and place and forged a writing career that produced nineteen novels. Three made the Top Five of the New York Times Bestseller list (1904, 1932 and 1935). She received every nearly major award for fiction. In 1942, a lifetime of hard work paid off when she gained international acclaim by winning the Nobel Prize for “In This Our Life.”
Glasgow also wrote a volume of short stories and poems. Her autobiography, "The Woman Within" (1954) was published posthumously. Glasgow was the sixth woman inducted into the American Academy of Arts and Letters. Her influential career included being an active suffragist and animal rights activist.
The capital of Virginia has produced some great writers, including David Baldacci and Douglas Southall Freeman. Glasgow has faded from such discussions, but one reviewer called her Richmond’s most famous writer. Unlike some others, she was born and lived most of her life in Richmond.
Glasgow created her characters, plots and settings in the upstairs room of her home at 1 West Main Street in Richmond. Built in 1841, the “square gray home” combines Federal and Greek Revival architecture.
121 places in Virginia have earned the esteemed honor of being listed on the National Historic Landmark. Four are homes of authors. Glasgow is the only woman writer so honored.
The nomination form (National Historic Landmark) tells us a few of Glasgow’s furnishings remain, included a gilt-edged mirror and several framed honorary degrees. The house is leased to the University Center of Virginia.
Across the span of almost a half century, Glasgow published 19 novels. All but one are set in the tidewater region of Virginia.
Glasgow’s novels had their critics, but she has received a lot of praise. In her review (American Literary Realism, Fall 1999), Nancy A. Walker called Glasgow, "a towering figure in the literary circles of her own lifetime."
Famed Washington Post critic Jonathan Yardley sang Glasgow’s praises more than once. He put her in the company of Wharton, Henry James and John P. Marquand as “one of the few novelists of manners this country has produced and one of the best.”
In his review of her autobiography, The Woman Within, he writes:
My own list of unjustly overlooked and underrated writers is long; …at or near the very top is Ellen Glasgow.
Yardley’s favorite three of her novels are "Barren Ground," "Vein of Iron," and "The Sheltered Life."
The eighth of nine children, Glasgow was born into a world in Richmond that wanted her to become a traditional woman — a life of early marriage to some well-known Virginia family name, devoting all her time to her husband and children, appearances in the society papers and timid talk over afternoon teas.
Her mother’s stock was Tidewater aristocracy. Her father fell in line with the traditions of the South and ran the Tredegar Iron Works in Richmond.
Her formative years came when the "Lost Cause" was being crafted by organizations such as the Ladies Memorial Association. Perhaps no other place in the South embodied the ideals, heroes and myths of the Lost Cause than Richmond. Glasgow could have easily become part of that world.
But as observers have said, she “broke with the popular tradition of Southern writers” and “swept away the convention of moonlight and magnolias for novels of the South in transition.”
Glasgow had a privileged, but rough childhood. She was shy and suffered from mood swings and bouts of depression her whole life. Her mother died when she was twenty and her brother and sister died early deaths. She also had to deal with advancing deafness.
According to Dorothy M. Scura (Ellen Glasgow, The Contemporary Reviews), Glasgow hit her stride in the years 1925 to 1932. "Barren Ground" unlocked the floodgates. Published in 1925, the novel competed against Dos Passos’s "Manhattan Transfer," F. Scott Fitzgerald’s "The Great Gadsby" and Sinclair Lewis’s "Arrowsmith," which won the Pulitzer.
"Barren Ground" received great reviews. In her book, "The Female Tradition in Southern Life," Carol S. Manning describes Dorinda Oakley, the protagonist:
she survives betrayal, recovers from defeat, and succeeds in wresting a good living and good life from the barren soil.
Some consider "Sheltered Life" (1932) her masterpiece.
On the occasion of the 100th anniversary of her birth, Richmond Times writer Edgar E. MacDonald (April 1973) describes its closing pages as “masterful, rivaling in power, intellectual grace and poetry anything written in the twentieth century.”
Glasgow was also active in women’s rights movements. In 1913, she delivered the key address in front of a large audience in Richmond for the Equal Suffrage League of Virginia. Glasgow was made an honorary vice president of the league.
The novelist gave money to the local SPCA and donated her collection of China Dogs to the Valentine Museum.
"In This Our Life," was adapted into a film that was later censored for its depiction of racial inequality.
Like many other novelists, Glasgow, for many years, endured the passover blues of not winning the Pulitzer Prize.
An article in The Washington Post offered an explanation.
American readers had already come to accept the novel of pyschology and social satire at the hands of writers like Mrs. Wharton, but they were not read to accept it from a writer as distinctively Southern as Miss Glasgow.
Finally in 1942, she was awarded the Pulitzer Prize for "In Our Time." Most agreed it was not her best, but garnering the ultimate honor for a writer surely pleased her to no end.
Fresh off the news, Warner Brothers released its version of the book. Packed theaters watched Olivia de Havilland and Bette Davis play the two sisters. According to IMBD, Warner Brothers was named to the "Honor Roll of Race Relations." Although some scenes were cut out, some parts of the movie portrayed African-Americans in a dignified way. The Office of Censorship disapproved the movie for overseas, fearing offending white viewers.
Glasgow then had three short years to enjoy the recognition and the prestige. Her fans learned of the sad news of her passing in November 1945. The Washington Post hailed her as a nationally famous author.
Concluding Thoughts
It’s hard to know if Glasgow’s canon will see a revival. One did occur in 1954 with the publication of her autobiography.
Perhaps one will come in 2023, with the 150th anniversary of her birthday. This would dovetail with the 150th anniversary of Reconstruction, which will end in 2027.
The Hot Stove League, baseball’s long and cold waiting period during the winter months, gathered early last week to watch the annual Hall of Fame selections. With bitter cold gripping parts of the country, and the other news seeming to be all the same bad, the show on the MLB Network gave fans a chance to escape to a better place. Surely discussed was "pitchers and catchers," reporting soon to the Sunbelt diamonds.
The vote for the Hall was an American League special. Of the combined 71 seasons of Mariano Rivera, Edgar Martinez, Roy Halladay and Mike Mussina, only four were played in the National League. Another common theme seemed to be how nary a bad word had ever been written about any of them.
Like Martinez, Rivera played for one team his entire big league career. The Yankees closer, who was pretty much untouchable from 1997 to 2012, became the first and only unanimous choice. Seeing his selection brought back memories of a game I will never forget at Yankee Stadium.
There’s all sorts of reasons why baseball fans follow a favorite team. The most basic is rooting for the home or the closest team. When I was a kid growing up in North Carolina, the Senators and then the Braves, seemed to be a million miles away. In such satellite states, a young fan feeling the need to hook up with a team had to look elsewhere.
In the 1960s (I was ten in '66) my hometown of Greensboro hosted minor league “A” ball, the lowest classification and quality of play. But that low ranking didn’t matter. For a reasonable cost, a fan in the Gate City could go see professional baseball at War Memorial Stadium.
The “G-Yanks” of the Carolina League played there from 1958 to 1966. My good (sadly, late) friend Larry Colson pulled for the Yankees. It’s my guess a number of other kids in our area also followed the Bronx Bombers. In what might be the greatest stretch for any sports team, New York, from 1947 to 1964, appeared in 15 of the 17 World Series. They won 10, including 1962 over the Giants.
Logic is certainly a way to the heart. I took a different path to the majors and fell for the team that had my favorite player, Willie Mays, on it. Visions of Candlestick Park danced in my head. Reading about the New York Giants sealed the deal.
Sometime in the spring of 2002, I contacted my Giants buddy Howard. He was an avid fan, too, a native of the Bay Area and knowing the players and the game. When we first met at the Embassy in Tunis in 1991, he whipped out his wallet and showed me his ticket stub from the '89 World Series.
'Nuf said.
In the late 1990s, Howard and I had road-tripped from Washington up to Philly to see our favorite team play at the old Veterans Stadium. With other friends, I have watched the gray-shirts in action at Atlanta, Cincy, Baltimore, and Pittsburgh.
“Howard, you wanna go see the Giants at the Yankees on a Saturday afternoon in June?”
“Let’s do it.”
In 2002, San Francisco was two seasons into a new and better era. The team had left behind wind-swept and often chilly Candlestick Park for new digs adjacent to downtown. Between the attractiveness and appeal of the new brick and steel park, the performance of the team’s superstar, Barry Bonds, and their good play on the field, the Giants had set a new course.
In the Bonds and Baker era at Candlestick (1993-1999), the Giants were typically laggers in attendance. In their first four seasons at Pac Bell Park, they finished, second, first, first, first in fannies through the turnstiles. Taking a page from the Yankees, someone dubbed the bayside stadium, “the House that Bonds Built.” (private money helped, too).
2002 would see the Giants return to the Fall Classic for the first time since 1989. As they always had before, the team broke our hearts, losing to the Angels after having one hand on the trophy late in Game Six.
But they had a great team that year, with the big bats of Bonds and Jeff Kent, a career year from shortstop Rich Aurilia, five steady starters, good seasons from veterans such as Benito Santiago, and closer Robb Nen was almost always lights out in the “Nenth Inning.”
San Francisco’s 95-66 mark fell two games short of first place Arizona, but the Giants Wild Card magic and Dusty’s hug ‘em and love ‘em leadership got them to the World Series.
When the Giants strutted into New York in early June, the team stood at 35 and 25. Many teams have faltered in June, but somehow it was the Giants who became associated with the so-called “June Swoon.”
Not this year.
San Francisco won four of five to start the month before heading to Yankee Stadium for a weekend, three-game set. The Giants were just one and a half back of Arizona and a half game from their arch rivals, the Dodgers.
In some ways, this was unchartered territory for the team. Since their arrival in the city by the bay, they had not won 90 games in three straight seasons since those days of Mays, McCovey and Marichal. Their 103 win season in 1993 had bookends of 72-90 and 55-60 seasons. The Will Clark and Roger Craig led squads had followed up their playoff seasons in 1987 and 1989 with mediocre efforts.
The Yankees stood at 39 and 23, three games behind their arch rivals in Boston. Led by skipper Joe Torre, Roger Clemens, Derek Jeter, and an infield that would clobber a combined 145 home runs, the mighty Yanks would go on to win 103 games, ten ahead of the Red Sox. Ex-Oriole Mike Mussina starred on the pitching staff, another one of the quiet four who will be inducted into the Hall this summer. (Sadly, Halliday’s is posthumously).
The last time the Giants and Yankees had faced off at Yankee Stadium was the 1962 World Series. For the gray beards who remembered when Horace Stoneham's "window breakers" and "Say Hey" Willie starred at the Polo Grounds, this series had them thinking of those bygone days. Just a short walk over the Harlem River separated the two storied franchises.
Perhaps some of those older fans recalled stories their parents or grandparents had told them. The Giants and Yankees played the first Subway Series in 1921. Trivia buffs know the entire series was played at the Polo Grounds, as Yankee Stadium was yet to be built (1923).
Big Apple writers such as Grantland Rice and Damon Runyon, giants themselves, had the dream job of covering both ball clubs. From 1921 to 1957, the two teams won a combined 31 pennants. The Giants had no answer to Babe Ruth on the field, but at times, the papers spilled equal amounts of ink on John McGraw, their fiery and controversial manager whose hatred of Ban Johnson and the American League led to the cancellation of the 1904 World Series.
On Saturday morning Howard and I took the shuttle flight from National to JFK, then the subway ride up to the Bronx. Howard boldly wore his SF Giants hat. I took the safer route and left the black and orange gear at home.
I remember enjoying the convenience of public transportation and getting off at the Yankee Stadium stop. None of us like being in the middle of a crush of hurried people, but for a baseball game, such angular massing from station to stadium has a fun side.
Then came the walk into the cavernous hunk of concrete and feeling the anticipation of watching the game. I’m not sure if I thought about it at the time, but I now recall seeing a game at Yankee Stadium in 1989.
In June, the Air Force sent me to the NCO Academy at McGuire Air Force Base in New Jersey. On a Saturday morning, I drove up to see the Yankees take on the Red Sox. Kind of hard to believe now, but both teams were under .500. I kept score, my pencil worn down by all the hitting. I’ll never forget Clemens getting hit by a line drive in the first inning, walking it off, staying in the game, and picking up the win in a 14 to 8 slugfest. There was also some slugging going on in the stands, three fights in the lower deck below, if I recall correctly.
49,348 fans saw that one. 55,194 would pack the park twenty-three Junes later. I remember feeling in awe. It wasn’t just the grandeur of the “House that Ruth Built” (renovated in 1974-1975) that induced goosebumps. The Yankees history and aura played a big role, too. The Bronx Bombers had lost in the World Series the year before, but they had taken the previous three in a row. Only trivia buffs knew how many total flags flew, but it didn’t matter. The number (26) was way more than any other team and their struggles that had begun in 1989 were behind them. If the Giants could win this one, it would be tasting sweet and succulent fruit.
The pitching matchup was Jason Schmidt and Ted Lilly. Lilly was your classic journeyman innings-eater whose best friends were double plays and run support.
After eight up and down seasons with the Braves and Pirates, Schmidt found something better with the Giants. In 2003, his 2.34 ERA would lead the league.
In the weeks leading up to the game, we had hoped to see a Bonds-Clemens showdown. Missed it by one day. The two greats faced each other the next day (Sunday), with “The Rocket” giving Bonds three free passes.
Nothing new there. Bonds would walk 198 times that season, and 2,558 all told in his 22 year career. The closest player is Rickey Henderson with 2,190.
As an East Coast Giants fan and someone who goes to bed early, I missed a lot of Bonds career as a Giant. Nevertheless, there are stand out games I attended. On the early afternoon of September 6, 2001, Joe and I watched number 25 swat one over the right field bleachers at Pac Bell Park. The Chronicle the next day featured a special pull out page — “Barry Catches the Babe, Hits No. 60.” The blast was career number 554. The mayor didn't need to give Bonds the key to the city because he already had it.
I will also never forget the Giants first game at RFK in 2005. My friend Don and I sat among a crowd of about 32,403, not bad for a Tuesday night in a rust bucket and in a city that had not seen regular baseball since 1971. We got there early and watched batting practice. One could describe the scene as being like every other batting practice for the Giants during the Bonds Era. Center stage took place when number 25 stepped into the cage. Everything else was a side show.
Recovering from knee surgery in the off season, Bonds had been out of action before returning September 12. Six home games later, the Giants, 69 and 80, traveled to the nation’s capital for a two-game set. Like their aging marquee player, the team had blown a clutch. For the first time in eight seasons, the Giants would finish below the .500 mark.
In the top of the fourth, Bonds came up with two out and the sacks empty. Rookie Matt Cain, who would finish the season with a 2.33 ERA, had given up a run. When Bonds stepped up to the plate that summer night in Washington, the reaction was quite predictable. All the evidence points to a number of players who had beefed up on or used banned substances. Way, way more, however, than anyone else, Bonds incurred the wrath of fans. A sustained chorus of loud boos rained down on the 40-year-old slugger. Perhaps not since Ty Cobb had any one player been so reviled. The fans hurled their invective at him like hate spewed at a witch hunt.
Facing his 2002 teammate Livan Hernandez, the Giants slugger fouled off two pitches. On the next offering, Bonds launched one into the upper deck.
The Giants long time play-by-play announcer Duane Kuiper, who hit only one home run in his twelve-year career, knew a thing to two about watching Bonds hit tape-measure taters. Up in the press box he belted out — “High!, Deep!!, Outta Here!!!” — a variation of his signature home run call.
Thomas Boswell, author and the long-time columnist for The Washington Post, who has educated more people about the game than any encyclopedia, gave his home-brewed account in the next morning’s newspaper…
On the fifth pitch, a sound that resembled a canon report, not a mere rifle shot, was heard throughout RFK… As Bonds crossed the plate, he put his index finger to his lips, mocking the crowd with the universal Shhh, now common, at least among showboats, in various sports…. Still the mighty Giant had lived up to his public challenge…
The other Bonds home run that stands out in my mind took place on that afternoon at Yankee Stadium. When he stepped up to the plate in the first inning, David Bell stood on second (walk) and Aurilia on first (single).
On a 1-1 count, Bonds hit a Ruthian blast into the middle of the upper deck in right field. That’s worth repeating. The middle of the upper deck.
In his excited call, Jon Miller, a staple himself in the booth and recipient of the Hall of Fame's Ford C. Frick Award, said: “This one is headed for New Jersey!”
Henry Schulman, the beat writer with the Chronicle, couldn’t hold back either:
Had the upper deck not been there, the ball might have landed on a No. 4 train and traveled down Lexington Avenue to Grand Central Station.
An AP writer called the blast, “one of the most impressive homers ever at baseball’s most famous ballpark.”
According to the Elias Sports Bureau, “the last time a player with more homers than Bonds connected at Yankee Stadium was when Ruth hit No. 707 on Sept. 3, 1934, against the Philadelphia Athletics.”
I’ll never forget the reaction of a Yankees fan behind us. He was disgusted to see his team fall behind so suddenly, but he also said, “oh, well, I have Bonds in my fantasy league.”
The early joy for the Giants lasted just one inning. Schmidt gave up a three-run homer in the bottom of the second to Nick Johnson.
But from there, both starters settled down. Going into the top of the ninth, the game was still tied at 3. The pinstripes trotted to their positions. Then, with his signature entrance song, Metallica’s “Enter Sandman,” blasting from the speakers, Rivera took the long but familiar walk from the pen to the mound. I love the song, but now it sounded like some sort of ominous death knell for the Giants hopes.
Number 42, age 32, was at the peak of his career. Rivera was no Fu Manchu intimidator a la Al Hrabosky, aka "The Mad Hungarian," or a beefy flamethrower like Goose Gossage. The Panamanian righty let his nasty cutter do all the talking. His 50 saves the season before was the major’s high mark. He had seventeen Post Season series under his belt, giving up just six earned runs in 81 innings.
Yankee haters knew the Empire had won the World Series in 1996, 1998, 1999, and 2000. But in all honesty, I didn’t dislike Rivera. He had a calm confidence and had earned the respect of many players and fans. And most of the time when he came in to the game, the Yankees had all but won anyway.
In baseball, teams sometimes put together a rally with very little punch in their bats. Such was the case for the Giants in this game.
With one out, up came Aurilia, who had a career year in 2000, collecting 206 hits with a 6.7 WAR. He drew a walk.
Then, much to the delight of the home crowd and many other watching on TV, Bonds struck out swinging.
Jeff Kent, who was part of GM Brian Sabian’s makeover of the team in 1997, and the recipient of just 18% of the vote on Tuesday, was up next.
Kent, who like Bonds has likely lost HOF votes due to his less than cordial relationship with the scribes, gave the fans a memorable nine-pitch at bat against Rivera. After fouling off four 2-2 pitches, he cracked a single into shallow right field.
Catcher Benito Santiago stepped up next and hit a “broken-bat spinner to second.” Instead of using his glove, Soriano tried to bare hand the ball.
The crown moaned at the muffed play. You know what Rivera was feeling.
Despite the tricky hop, “E-4” flashed on the scoreboard. Aurilia was in the dug out, high fives all around for his go-ahead run.
Rivera struck out Reggie Sanders, but the damage had been done. Nen shut the door, 1-2-3, on Giambi, Williams and Posada.
In June 2017, Connor Grossman (Sports Illustrated) sat down with Dusty Baker, Bonds and some others to talk about this game.
The writer described the home run Bonds hit as “one of the longest and most majestic shots authored by the all-time home run leader.”
He added, “but the memories have faded deeper and deeper into the history books.”
Home plate umpire Jerry Crawford agreed, saying, I would say it will be lost to history.
In some ways, he was right. But baseball fans have a way of remembering the moments that touched their heart and their mind. One of mine was that game at Yankee Stadium where the Giants won a thriller over the storied franchise and their future Hall of Fame closer.
Congrats to number 42 and the other selectees.
Attended Brad Meltzer’s book signing on Thursday night, a first for me and an evening of unexpected delights. Meltzer, a best-selling author, entertained the overflow crowd at the Barnes and Noble in Tysons, mixing in wit and wisdom, with the confidence of a seasoned comedian.
Contrast that with the serious nature of the book’s story - a secret plot to kidnap and presumably end Washington’s life. The latter part might sound a bit far fetched, but as Meltzer points out in the book, a lot of Loyalists lurked in New York and elsewhere, and the Patriots threatened their power and money.
Unlike an easy-going, time-tested Politics and Prose author event, this one required seemingly unnecessary rules enforced by handlers who didn't have their A game on. We love and appreciate Barnes and Noble but the shifting lines, the crush and the balky sound system annoyed the faithful who had waited in some cases two hours.
This writer was about seventh in a line that kept getting longer. The wait allowed him to chat up a couple of the Meltzer faithful. One lady dashed away from Dulles after a cross-continental flight. She had, she said, the duty to report back to her family on the event. Her husband drove from his Capitol Hill office, fought rush hour traffic, arrived late, and like dozens of others, had to stand the entire time. (More chairs Barnes!!)
My early arrival got me an A group wristband for the book signing, and a front row seat. But when it came time for the book signing, Meltzer announced "children first." Their accompanying parents held stacks of the author's other books, and he signed them all.
Meltzer pleased his fans in many other ways, including announcing his next “Ordinary People Change the World” series book will be on Billy Jean King. He was also proud and pleased to finally be able to announce PBS will be airing a new series, Xavier Riddle and the Secret Museum, based on his book series.
Book co-writer Josh Mensch, whose entourage from New York filled the first two rows of VIP seats, also talked briefly. He contrasted the glamor of his gig with all the tedious research he and Meltzer did.
Meltzer also talked about what he was up against as a fiction writer. Would the non-fiction readers wonder if he took liberties with the truth?
“A lot (355) of footnotes,” he said.
We’re reading "The First Conspiracy." It's both a light shedder and a page turner. At least one reviewer has drawn a comparison between the book and what Lin-Manuel Miranda did with Alexander Hamilton.
Nothing in our time will ever top that mania. For now, however, it’s great to see a fresh set of eyes turn their attention to the Founding Father who heroically led the revolution before leading the infant nation out of the chaos and fog. The Meltzer treatment is both educational and entertaining.
Dear Friends and Readers,
I have the good fortune to have been approved to speak at the Tysons-Pimmit Regional Library.
I will discuss the story of Maplewood. For almost a hundred years, this Second Empire style mansion was a crown jewel, perched on a hill near Tyson’s Crossroads.
The event is Saturday, January 26th, 11 am. The Library has ample parking and is on Route 7, Leesburg Pike, just a half mile from the Beltway.
Metro’s Silver Line goes out to Tysons, although the McLean stop is a mile away. By way of amazing coincidence, the site of Maplewood, now a construction zone as part of the Capital One business campus, is just north of the station.
In what amounted to one of the greatest losses of a landmark home in Fairfax County, Maplewood was demolished in 1970.
Maplewood is quite a story not only in terms of the size, setting and architecture of the mansion home, but also the story of the Ulfelder family who lived there from 1925 to 1960. I went to George Mason University and listened to an oral history Martha Ulfelder gave in the 1980s. She grew up at Maplewood and provides us with some great memories of living there from the 1930s to the 1960s.
Anyway, hope to see you there. I will also bring a poster board. Here is a map I created for the event.
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