Fred Cote and Field Trips
Fred Cote is a gentleman of the Nauvoo Ward and webmaster of a nice little site that celebrates Nauvoo. How he happened to ask me, I do not know, but he wondered if I happened to know of any JSA student that would be willing to write a bit about our adventures for his internet audience. I said I would be happy to do so myself, and shortly thereafter cranked out the first of two stories for nauvoonews.com.
This first article was written in regards to our second field trip, spent in Quincy, Illinois and Mark Twain country. Mark Twain. Now there’s a curious literary figure. Typical in a lot of ways, still well read (I would wager only Poe challenges him for the title of today’s most read 19th century American fictionist), yet not exactly “literary.” Of course, as Twain himself said, the great writers may be wine, but everybody drinks water. Everybody still drinks water.1
Part of Nauvoo’s AmLit course was reading Tom Sawyer and Huck Finn. Or was it just Huck Finn? Anyway, I read them both in the weeks before the semester began, and let me tell you, fellow students, never prepare for class that far ahead of time. (I’m guessing twenty minutes early max is all your GPA can stand.) By the time we finally came to Twain, I couldn’t remember the brilliant discussions I had had with myself waiting in the Indianapolis bus station and during some of the quiet hours I spent in rural Indiana. All I could remember with certainty was that I had read and really dug both books.
(This is even more frustrating now because I still cannot rave Twain with accuracy, but I can, for instance, knock Thoreau. You see, we also read from Walden in AmLit. Well, not “we” exactly—they read from Walden. But I could still discourse passionately on why Thoreau’s a hypocritical idiot and share examples from the text. It is a very unflattering commentary on myself to realize my likes are weak in memory while my dislikes are ever boiling. Don’t let’s talk about Shakespeare’s Hal, either. Oh, I hate that man!)
Anyway, we visited Mark Twain country and had a lovely time. I didn’t report in absolute fullness on our activities, but such is the nature of reporting. Incidentally, I am often guilty of the crime of turning my nose on journalistic prose, but as you will see, my attempt was not exactly Pulitzer material itself (to say nothing of Miltons and Shakespeares). Except for a couple repaired spelling errors (of the spellcheck-proof variety), this is exactly as it once appeared online.
Saturday March 4, 2000 ad: Today the academy went on the second of several field trips they will be taking over the course of the semester. They began their journey by traveling to Quincy where they toured the streets awed by the beautiful architecture. As most of the students here are from the West, where there simply aren't many old buildings, this was an exciting experience. Plus, learning of Quincy's perpetual openness to refugees of all sorts (German, Mormon and otherwise) lends a sort of kindly aura to the city.
They took a brief stop at Washington Park where legs were stretched and posing was done in front of the bas relief sculpture of the Lincoln-Douglas Debates. (Incidentally, a body has to wonder--back then were they the Douglas-Lincoln debates? After all, Douglas was the big, famous guy.)
After Quincy, the students went to Florida, Missouri and its heralded "Mark Twain Memorial Shrine." And yes, it really does say "Shrine" on the side of the building.
There really wasn't all that much to do in Florida (especially after their disappointment in discovering that there is no Disney World in this particular Florida), so they bus was again loaded and they all ate lunch on their way to Hannibal.
(Bad Writing Ahead Warning)
As they ate their ambrosial vittles, the Doctors Best showered their blessed knowledge like sweet summer rains upon the heads of the nymph-like students, sprouting the tender germs of innocent genius and nourishing them into full-fledged Mark Twain scholarship.
(End of Danger Area)
Hannibal was a little crazy as all 40+ students were released to do what BYU students on Travel Study do best:
1) Skip and Sing
2) Take Pictures
3) Examine Everything Free
4) Take More Pictures
5) Climb the Highest Mountain
6) Still More Pictures
1) If you know there are BYU students in a town you can recognize them by their absurdly unhealthy Happy Levels. Skipping and singing are two of the biggest giveaways.
2) BYU students take a lot of pictures.
3) Museums? Yes. Everything vaguely Mark Twainy--including, excitingly, a display of Norman Rockwell paintings illustrating scenes from Tom and Huck. Of course, technically, this wasn't free--they paid for it with their tuition--but hey! It's paid for!
4) BYU students take a lot of pictures.
5) In this case, up to the Mark Twain Memorial Lighthouse. Which was locked. But we got a free card for so persevering. Thank you ABC Thrift Store!
6) BYU students take a lot of pictures.
And then, alas, they returned home. But healthy, happy and wise. How wise you ask? So wise that their tender germs of innocent genius sprouted and were nourished into full-fledged Mark Twain scholarship.
---Theric W Jepson
roving reporter
And there you are! Sadly, no mention of my nosing around a glass factory full of beautiful, beautiful glassworking. (I felt an unwarranted kinship with the artisans in the shop as I had recently gone with Lynsey to a Chihuly exhibit at BYU’s Museum of Art, and so knew all about glass and art and sparks flying and lost eyes and those long iron pole thingeys.) I was tempted to buy something, but they were out of their Contract for Delivery of Firstborn Child forms and I didn’t have time to hang around waiting for the man who was making the copyshop run to return—time was running out and I still had not made it to the Norman Rockwells.
Part of the reason I was short on time is that I had once again been taken in by the Mississippi River. Not literally mind you, figuratively. I was lolling along it when Wendy and Lindsi happened by. I walked with them about and across and around and then, suddenly, I realized we were standing next to the devil. I could tell because, though there were only three of us, there were four shadows. We took a picture and believe me, it is the creepiest picture. So if you go to Hannibal, watch for stray shadows lying about.
(I know you don’t believe me, but I have the photo and if you believe it’s doctored, I have the negative as well. There is a fourth shadow! Beware the devil!)
But to the article itself, what did you think? I was happy to write it, as I had already been filibustered out of my brilliant Daily Universe idea, and this seemed a reasonable substitution—for someone who actually wanted my writing, even!
Brother Cote’s site contains pages for all sorts of organizations in Nauvoo. NRI has a page, as does the temple construction and the various schools and some civic stuff. It’s a great service to his community. And the Nauvoophilic world at large. This book is designed to tell you a bit about modern Nauvoo, but if you want to know more, Fred Cote’s site is a reasonable place to start.
[ill marginalia]
My second article for him was never uploaded (which is why it was also the last I wrote). It covered our Lincoln trip. Shall we?
Thursday, March 9, 2000, the Joseph Smith Academy again boarded a bus and headed out. Of course, the warm weather we had been enjoying immediately turned frigid when Old Man Winter heard we were going on another trip. "After all," he no doubt thought, "they had pleasant weather in Hannibal--people will say I'm going soft if I give 'em fine weather two field trips in a row!" And so a cold front came tearing in to accompany us to New Salem and Springfield, Illinois.
We were up at an ungodly hour for this trip, and the amount of non-activity on the bus was revelatory of this fact. But buses are never as cozy as beds--especially for the long-legged, and so sleep was not too forthcoming.
We arrived in New Salem and had the whole place to ourselves! No one was there, and that was fine with us. We ran around taking pictures, looking at cabins and chickens and admiring the fine restoration work--particularly those amazingly reconstructed mills.
New Salem is where Abe Lincoln moved when he was twenty-two. While there he learned surveying and law, read much and watched his drunk business partner drive their store into a horrendous debt.
Sadly, we were on a tight schedule and unable to fully enjoy New Salem. We reboarded the bus just when we were supposed to and not a minute before and we took off for Lincoln's Tomb.
The tomb is extraordinary. It is stunningly beautiful, and an aura of awed reverence fills the corridors. The tomb is full of fine bronze sculpture and plaques holding the man's words. Abraham Lincoln was a great man, and the tomb is a remarkable monument.
(Although the photography is not of the highest quality, a reasonably good virtual tour of the tomb can be found at http://www.angelfire.com/biz/enablers/lincoln.html.)
Sadly, we had very little time to spend there either. We were off to Springfield.
At Springfield we took a tour of Lincoln's home, the old State House and the Lincoln-Herndon Law Office. Directly below Lincoln's office was the federal courtroom wherein Judge Pope threw out the affidavit requiring Joseph Smith to return to Missouri to stand trial for the attempted assassination of former governor Lilburn Boggs. If Lincoln had moved into his office a few months earlier, he could have been there for that case. In fact, Lincoln would occasionally listen to trials from his office by means of a trapdoor connecting his office to the courtroom.
And then, alas, we had to return home. As we returned, we watched the first half of 1993's Gettysburg. The horrors of the war were made unpleasantly real to us, but also the incredible bravery which some showed as they willingly gave their all for a higher reason.
Shortly after we arrived in Nauvoo, we were treated to a one-woman show by Sister Thornton, an LDS missionary serving in Nauvoo. Sister Thornton has spent a great deal of her time here researching and studying the life and writings of Eliza R. Snow, Zion's Poetess. Sister Thornton's research was thorough, her writing fantastic and her acting worthy. We all enjoyed her performance, and most of her audience stood for the final applause.
In all, a good day, though it be the sort of day which leads a body to an early bedtime.
---theric w jepson
another student
I think I should have stuck with “roving reporter”—how about you? In fact, as a whole, it is an inferior article, wouldn’t you agree? I believe I wrote it that very night and sent it right off.
It was a very nice trip we took, oh yes. I probably shouldn’t tell you this as it might be a serious criminal offence (these being government chickens), but I jumped in with the chickens in New Salem and ran about with them. Many people in the area still talk of the legendary Dances with Chickens.
[ill]
It was too bad that more stuff in New Salem wasn’t open, but the park was, after all, in the middle of a people-famine. A couple school buses of kids showed up before we left, but we had the place to ourselves for most of the time.
Lincoln left New Salem for Springfield, and we followed suit. We started at the Oak Ridge Cemetery which, according to a pamphlet published by the Springfield Illinois Convention & Visitors Bureau (visit them the next time you’re in town at 109 North Seventh Street), “is the second most visited cemetery in the U.S.” and is the “final resting place” for Mr and Mrs Lincoln and three of their sons. I can’t say enough about the tomb—it truly does have a distinctly temple-like feel to it. Lincoln is not only, arguably, our greatest president, he is also one of our best thinkers, best writers, and best men. This is my honest opinion. I encourage you to get a volume of Lincoln and do some reading. See if you can arrive at a different conclusion.
Although the inside may have felt sacred, the outside was not quite so. Part of that was doubtless due to the extreme accuracy of the equine statuary. The tomb, you see, has an obelisk and a statue of Lincoln, surrounded by what appears to be an entire bronze cavalry. And the horses look real. Jay, our resident Arizona cowboy, was examining the horses from every angle. He was particularly impressed by the horse’s back ends.2 He couldn’t believe how accurately they were rendered. He roamed around and around, peering between horse’s legs and up their curples in a state of awe and childlike joy. It touched my heart to watch him. I wish I could have been as excited about those curples myself. I suppose I’m just too jaded.
After we had all finished our individual curple-inspections, we had to leave. I was disappointed. There were some other exciting tombs about (beside the fact that I just love hanging about graveyards—a trait I developed while a JSA student).
Lincoln’s home is owned by the National Park Service, and may I just say that the Lincolns had the best wallpaper I have ever seen in my life? Wild, exciting, earthy colors bouncing about everywhere. An exhibit called “What a Pleasant Home Abe Lincoln Has” (exclaimed by a contemporary neighbor-lady and a favorite student catch phrase for weeks afterwards) further entertained us across the street.
Then zzzip! we were off to here and zzzip! we were off to there and then zzzip! we were off to some other place. We met guides at the old state capitol building that were peculiarly delighted to show us around and point out chairs and tables of interest to the LDS historian; we heard the story of the Prophet and the Pope (Judge Pope officiated at Joseph Smith’s extradition trial mentioned above), and we ran around much like the chickens in New Salem, heads intact. It was a great day, but we really did not have enough time. Many of us suggested they make Lincoln a two day trip next time (Brother Dahl agreed), but it was a great day. May I recommend Lincolning to you? Because I do. But don’t take my word for it—here’s a chicken:
[ill-chicken w/stovepipe hat?]
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Thanks for revisiting Nauvoo with me. I would love to hear your thoughts.