27 August 2009
Famous Cases
(Alexander Robey Shepherd (1835 – 1902), better known as Boss Shepherd)
We were embarked on the Odyssey, a sleek gas-topped pleasure boat that provided magnificent views of the Imperial City as we plied a carefully orchestrated route south on the Potomac, north again with a turn just north of Blue Plains, and then to the basin off the boathouses in Georgetown.
We were there to honor the birthday of The Admiral, the last man standing from the code-breaking team at Station Hypo that blew open the secret of the Japanese objective at Midway Island, and enabled bold Chester Nimitz to hurl everything he had at the oncoming might of the Imperial Japanese Navy.
Ninety years on the planet, and that amazing story is just one of the ones that were being honored by friends from the Admiral’s three careers- the one in the Navy, the one with the folks Up the River, and the long yeas of volunteer work with the Alzheimer’s unit at Arlington Hospital.
There were plenty of folks there to honor each segment of his life, and it was humbling to see the product of a life well-lived.
The food and wine were as good as the company, too, so it is hard to beat a celebration like that. The boat ride was a sort of quotation on that, too, and it was magical to watch the night come on as we slid under the lovely spans of the Memorial Bridge.
It is far superior to celebrate a life while it is still being lived to the alternative. None of us knew that Senator Kennedy was passing away during that cruise, and that the flags would be lowered to half-staff the next day all over the country, nor that the darkness that enveloped Arlington National Cemetery would welcome him home in due time to lie with his brothers.
The sweet platitudes are flying today, and will continue until he is at rest. You know what I think, and I will let the matter drop. After all, as things stand, I assume we will be roommates at Arlington for the rest of history, when it is time for me. Of course his place will be grander, being up on the hill with his brothers, and I am likely to be in a niche in the retaining wall along the highway.
No matter. With dinner came a turn-around and passage south under he lofty arches of the Key Bridge, and then down past the Waterfront, and Bolling Air force Base and the Naval Research Labs almost all the way to Blue Plains once more.
Blue Plains is the sewer of the city. General Montgomery Meigs dug the grand aqueduct that brings fresh water to the District and Arlington from the Great Falls, and once it is used, it winds up in the treatment ponds at Blue Plains.
The smell is always there, but a breeze from the south brings the sweetly sickening smell of the city’s waste out over the water. Blue Plains is the product of the anti-Meigs, Alexander Robey Shepherd, better known as The Boss.
Where Meigs was incorruptible, Shepherd carried a whiff of corruption all his life. He was head of the DC Board of Public Works from 1871 to 1873, and Governor of the District of Columbia from 1873 to 1874. He is known here as "The Father of Modern Washington," among other things, and the spiritual father of Mayor-for-Life Marion Berry.
He had a larger than life stature in front of the District Building, though he fell out of favor in later years. His stone-work was moved to Blue Plains for several years, where his imperious visage looked out over the wide ponds of shit.
He is back in front of the District Building now, and I thought of him as I watched the Odyssey turn. Laughter came from the covered party area on the stern, and people talked of the Admiral, and the amazing things he has seen and done, aginst the backdrop of the Great Depression, the Great War, the long cold one, terror attacks and around again to national economic crisis.
We slid smoothly north, past the BOQ at Fort McNair. I saw the Pentagon burning orange against the setting sun from the balcony there just a few years ago, when the world seemed to lurch on its axis.
We pulled into the slip on the Waterfront, and everyone tried to give The Admiral a hug before we debarked. He is one of my heroes.
The wind from the south still had a hint of Blue Plains in it as I fired up the powerful V-8 of the Bluesmobile to cross the river, and I had to think of some of the other secrets of Blue Plains.
Boss Shepherd put a lot of the stuff people don’t want to see or hear down by the treatment plant.
Like Potter’s Fields, the anti-Arlington, where they put the people that don’t matter, or the ones who were executed by the Military Commission.
Oh, you didn’t think you would get away with a simple tribute to the Admiral this morning, did you?
The story I am about to tell you has G-Men, Real Nazis, girly-Nazis, Naval Intelligence and the mystery of the Missing Saboteurs in it. You might be interested, or you might not, but we will have to get to that tomorrow.
It is more fun looking back, sometimes, where the secrets are known. Looking forward is just plain scary.
Copyright 2009 Vic Socotra
www.vicsocotra.com