The New Founders

by Joseph F. Connor

  The guide, again flustered but now angry, raised her voice to remind Hahn and the group that most of the furniture and paintings they were viewing were replicas or original pieces from the period.

  “Four o’clock group, I ask that each of you respect all questions asked and let me answer what I can. And you, sir, in the back. The Assembly Room or signing room, is the last exhibit on the tour before you can head over to the document display. Please be patient, we will be there soon.”

  Hahn gave a quick nod and wave and continued with his tour group.

  4:30 pm tour

  Jenson stood in line with Jack, Todd, and Dot. Keaton had decided to pass on the tour and was probably headed to the hotel bar for a well deserved beer. Jenson was jealous but intent on capping off the afternoon with a tour of the Hall. He had never been inside and was looking forward to it.

  He listened to Jack and Todd talking excitedly about what they were about to see. Jenson was distracted by the thought of having a private audience and late dinner with Anders. He was psyched, but nervous, and kept running the ideas he planned on talking about over and over in his head. He thought that the tour would last until about five before they

  made the short walk back to the hotel for a shower; plenty of time to meet at seven-thirty.

  His train of thought was interrupted by a loud voice at the front of the line welcoming the last tour of the day. All eyes looked forward to the source of the voice. Before them stood an older gentleman dressed in colonial attire and bearing a striking resemblance to Benjamin Franklin. Jenson did a double take at first, thinking that his tour guide was the same man who had watched his radio show forty-five minutes earlier. As he walked closer, he realized that it was just a kindly old man making every effort to look and act like an eighteenth century relic.

  “Boy that guy looks like Benjamin Franklin doesn’t he?” asked Dorothy. “I’d like to buy him a kite.”

  The last line evoked a few laughs from the strangers around them, getting the group into a good mood, something for which the effervescent Dot had a knack.

  “Hello, everybody, and welcome to Philadelphia, the home of Independence Hall and the Liberty Bell. My name is Ben and for you younger folks, Mr. Franklin will suit me just fine. I will be your tour guide for the next half hour. And just looking around at all of you, it looks like we have an enthusiastic crowd, wouldn’t you say?”

  Most nodded in agreement just as Dot let out a loud “woo hoo” that made Murray shake his head and fondly remark the he could not take her anywhere.

  “Okay, that’s what I like to hear. So, let’s start by following me through the doorway to the right.” Then he opened the door and ushered the group inside the next room.

  4:00 pm tour

  “File in and gather around. Ladies and gentlemen, you are now standing in the Pennsylvania Assembly Room. Does anybody know the significance of this part of Independence Hall?”

  Hahn, deciding to let someone else answer for a change, bit his lip and stayed quiet.

  A tourist blurted out that it was the room in which the Declaration of Independence was signed. “That is correct,” answered the tour guide.

  Hahn, of course, could not hold his tongue anymore. “The Constitution was also drafted here, was it not?”

  The tour guide, nodding her head slowly, informed the group that that piece of information was also correct. “Here the delegates from the original thirteen colonies gathered, and on July Fourth, 1776, adopted the Declaration of Independence.”

  She reminded the group of the earlier question about original furniture and pointed to the exhibit before them.

  “The Assembly Room does have two original pieces from colonial days. If you look closely behind the table, you will notice a brown chair with a hand carving at the top. This is known as the Rising Sun Chair. It is the chair that George Washington himself used for three months during the Constitutional Convention. It is widely believed that Ben Franklin coined the name Rising Sun. If you look on top of the table in front of the Rising Sun chair, you will also notice the silver inkstand that was used by the signers of both the Declaration of Independence and Constitution.”

  Hahn, standing to the right side of the group, stared intently at the engraved sun on the chair. He was so focused on the furniture and the aura of the room that he hardly noticed as his four o’clock tour group shuffled past him and through the door that led to the document room.

  Thirty seconds later, Hahn stood alone in the Assembly Room. He leaned on the railing and tried to grasp the history that permeated through the air around him. He gazed upward, picturing George Washington surrounded by the founding fathers, as they took turns dipping their quill pens in the beautiful inkwell to sign the documents that turned out to be the foundations of The United States of America. He felt a chill run through him.

  Hahn looked around and finally noticed that he was alone with the colonial ghosts. He wondered if anybody else had felt what he was feeling at that very moment.

  4:30 pm tour

  Tim Jenson stood behind Mr. and Mrs. Murray and noticed that they were holding hands. They listened to their guide explain how prisoners were escorted into the Philadelphia Supreme Court Chamber and made to stand in the prisoner’s dock during court proceedings, hence the phrase “standing trial.” He thought that this couple had to have something special to be married for as many years as they had, yet still held hands.

  Murray turned his head and looked past Jenson’s shoulder. Jenson followed Murray’s line of sight and turned his head as well. Both men stared across the hallway into the Assembly Room. Murray, seeing a man hunched over the railing in a kneeling position, commented to Jenson that it looked as if that guy was praying to the flag mounted above the table and chair. Both men slowly detached themselves from their tour group and inched their way back toward the doorway. It was obvious that both men were not even aware of what they were doing.

  They were slightly startled when Dot grabbed their arms and asked where they were going.

  “Our tour’s over here guys,” Dot said loudly enough for most of the group to notice.

  The men stayed in their respective spots in the courtroom until the tour guide made his way past them and led the group into the Assembly Room. Jenson and Murray entered the room and took their place along the railing next to the young man on one knee. They both looked at Hahn stooped before them and listened to the guide’s description of the significance of the room and the artifacts that it housed. Hahn had no clue that the next tour group had just joined him.

  After a few minutes, the guide led the group past Jenson and Murray toward the exit leading to the document room and the completion of the four-thirty tour. The Assembly Room emptied, leaving Hahn, Jenson, and Murray to wonder why they remained drawn to the room. They had no intention of leaving. They looked at each other and their surroundings but, remained silent as if in church. They seemed to sense each other’s thoughts and feelings without having to verbalize them.

  Ten minutes passed before the serene silence of the great Hall was broken by a booming voice that left no doubt who was talking. All three men whipped their heads around just in time to see a small group turn the corner and enter the Assembly Room.

  “No way!” exclaimed Hahn as he watched the rotund man with the distinctive voice lead his entourage into the Room. He was totally engaged in conversation with a balding gentleman holding a yellow pad with his pen at the ready. The three individuals with them listened closely as they walked in unison toward the trio.

  “Hey guys, fancy running into you in here,” bellowed Anders as he finally noticed Jenson and Murray a few feet from him.

  Carolyn, her face turning from grin to frown, shouted at the three men.

  “What are you doing in here? You’re not supposed to be here, the last tour was at four-thirty.” Turning to Anders, she apologized for the intrusion into their private tour.

  “Don’t worry about it, doll. This here is my new friend Tim Jenson.
Tim, let me introduce everybody.”

  Anders went on to introduce his following to him as Jenson introduced everybody to Murray. The history professor sized up the national radio show host and noted that he was shorter and a bit heavier than he expected. While excited to meet him, Murray was not in awe as a feeling of familiarity came over him. He could not put his finger on it and he knew that they had never met; but Jack was experiencing a déjà vu moment. He chalked it up to surprise and backed up to take it all in.

  With introductions complete, everybody turned to the younger man with the backpack slung over his shoulder. “I’m Josh Anders. I didn’t get your name.”

  Hahn, extending his hand, told the group his name and said he was a big fan of the Josh Anders Show. He exchanged pleasantries with everybody in the room before turning his attention back to the Rising Chair.

  “This is where they signed the Declaration and the Constitution. And behind the table, there is the Rising Sun chair where George Washington sat during the Constitutional Convention.”

  Faulk explained that the name was given by Ben Franklin himself who, after looking at the back of the chair day after day and wondering if it was a rising or setting sun, determined with optimism that it was indeed a rising sun, symbolic of the new nation rising around them.

  “That’s fascinating, I did not know that,” proclaimed Anders as he gazed upward and around the whole room, soaking in the atmosphere.

  Carolyn stepped away from the group. She said she had to check on something back in the office before they shut down the Hall and needed to leave the group. She pointed to the exit and said she would catch up to everyone outside. She turned, walked out the door and was out of sight. Faulk then instructed his assistant to take his notes back to the office to start on the interview article. Mike closed his computer bag and thanked both Josh and Steve for their time. He nodded to the others and left through the document room.

  Chapter 7

  How did you guys like the tour?” Anders asked to the collective group. A smattering of comments such as fine, impressive, and pretty cool were the responses.

  Faulk, standing with his arms behind him, shared that it was his first trip to this historical monument.

  “Do you believe that? I’m seventy years old, have lived in Philadelphia for the last forty five years and this is the first time I’ve ever stepped foot in Independence Hall. My kids have been to school field trips here. I served as president of the damn Pennsylvania Historical Society and I never made it here. I’m standing here dumbfounded.”

  Jenson responded that he thought dumbfounded was an odd way of describing his feeling at that moment. “I’m dumbfounded because from the moment I set foot in the building I’ve had a sense of déjà vu. I saw everything today for the first time, yet somehow, I knew what was around every corner. And that chair with the rising sun carved in it, it’s as if I am looking at it right this very moment and George Washington himself is sitting there before us.”

  The hair on Jack Murray’s neck stood. He had the same feeling but kept it to himself, privately sensing that more odd occurrences were in store for the group. Anders, breaking the awkward moment, explained that it is probably a common feeling among many of the visitors that pass through these rooms.

  “No Josh, I don’t think so,” Faulk replied rubbing his balding head.

  “There’s something going on that I can’t put my finger on right now,” Faulk said. “And I think I am not alone in that feeling. I mean, look at Tony right here. I met him ten minutes ago, yet I feel that I know him better than my own sons. What do you think, Hahn?”

  “Well, a room like this does bring out a special feeling in all of us, that’s for sure. After all, this is where it all happened,” Anders interjected. After a brief pause, the loquacious Anders continued, “Can’t you just see all the founding fathers in their rightful place around that table there? With big George presiding over the historic meetings, I can picture them all. Jefferson to the left, Madison front and center during the ratification of the Constitution. Franklin, the wise old advisor too frail to walk. Then, upfront and brown-nosed Hamilton attached to Washington’s ear, both men bantering back and forth. We could use that group today, wouldn’t you say boys?”

  All the men listened and nodded their heads in agreement as they surveyed the setting again. They moved in unison toward the center of the room.

  Hahn threw in his two cents. “We don’t have to reach as far back as the eighteenth century to get what we need today. We just need to go back to 1980 and bring back Ronald Reagan. That’s who we need in today’s world.”

  Faulk offered up an immediate response, stating that another Reagan would be nice but he would settle for an articulate leader who could stand up to the left, and at the very least, clearly explain conservative principles in a debate without backing down.

  “We could use a Washington that doesn’t have a DC hanging off the end of it!” Anders responded with a haughty laugh that broke some of the seriousness in the room. Everybody laughed at that comment and seemed to finally loosen up. “But seriously, I don’t think we’ll get another Reagan anytime soon. As I said on my show today, we cannot afford four more years of this Marxist dismantling the country that the gentlemen of this room dug the foundation for because, before you know it, there will be nothing left.”

  The overhead lights illuminating the Assembly Room shut off with a loud crack that startled everyone. They looked around and wondered if they had overstayed their welcome.

  “You think old Carolyn is sending us a message?” Murray asked the group as each man smiled. The natural sunlight from the setting sun provided a dim light that was enough to keep the group out of the dark. After a few seconds, eyes in the room adjusted and the conversation continued.

  “Reagan did warn us,” Hahn began, “that America was and is the last great hope on Earth. Without us, the world would fall into a thousand years of darkness. Remember, the freedoms we live everyday as Americans should be cherished. Because that can change very quickly, in one generation, just as Reagan said.”

  Suddenly a sound of leather boots on the hardwood floor filled the air. While the sound was distant at first, it grew louder with each slow step. It was evident that someone was approaching the Assembly Room at a very deliberate pace.

  “Sounds like security is coming to finally boot us out of here,” joked Faulk.

  “I don’t think so,” warned Murray. A long shadow appeared near the entrance way to the room. It stretched along the floor very slowly. The room fell eerily silent for a split second before Hahn asked the group if anybody smelled what he smelled.

  The heavy sound of boots lasted only ten seconds but felt like an eternity.

  “Is there somebody back there?” shouted Faulk while Jenson mentioned that maybe it was time to go.

  Hahn said that he wasn’t going anywhere. The words were barely out of his mouth when a tall, imposing figure appeared from the darkness of the doorway and walked toward the group. The impressive looking gentleman was clad in colonial period garb, from his leather boots and knickers, to an intimidating sword in its sheath. He wore a powdered wig with a ponytail, or in colonial language, a “queue,” tied by a red ribbon at the back.

  The stranger stood over six feet and walked erect and upright in a regal fashion, with long and purposeful strides, as if inspecting a regimen of troops for battle. He reminded Faulk of his childhood idol in Boston, baseball great Ted Williams, a larger than life presence.

  Murray immediately focused on the stranger’s distinct facial features and rather prominent nose that seemed to fit his large face rather well. All the men now got a whiff of the odor that Hahn mentioned a few seconds earlier, an odor that reminded both Anders and Faulk of the turf burned to warm homes in the Irish countryside.

  “Good evening lads,” the stranger offered, wearing a tempered smile that revealed a graying set of teeth. “Are you gentlemen enjoying yourselves on this fine day?”

  Ha
hn was the first to speak, offering that they were all enjoying themselves and that the visit to the Statehouse was the highlight of the day. All the men nodded in agreement, except for Murray, who was transfixed on the figure; an image of the first president. Murray stepped forward and extended his hand to the stranger.

  “Jack Murray, it is very nice to meet you, sir.” A chill went up his spine as the tall man looked down on him and shook his hand.

  “The pleasure is all mine, Mr. Murray.”

  Anders immediately jumped into the conversation. “We were all saying a few minutes ago that we could feel the presence of the founders in this very room. It’s almost spooky. We thought you were a security guard coming to have us removed. I think I speak on behalf of our little group here when I say that we appreciate you and the rest of the guides and actors that are part of the tours for doing what you’re doing. You really bring the roots of our country back to life for ordinary Americans like ourselves. We thank you, don’t we gentlemen?”

  Anders then looked to the collection of men who nodded, except for Murray, who shot Anders a look.

  The tall stranger surveyed the group and smiled once again.

  “Mr. Anders, what you do every day is of vital importance, too, and I thank you for your efforts.”

  He turned to Tim Jenson and paid the tall Virginian a compliment as well.

  “You too, sir. As an old friend of mine once said, ‘Interesting occupations are necessary to happiness: indeed the whole art of being happy consists in the art of finding employment. A good evening to you all.’

  As he breathed that last word, the impressive man spun on one heel and strode toward the doorway, his left hand resting on the small of his back while his right hand paced his long and elegant stride. He turned the corner and disappeared out of sight. At once the group of men faced each other in a semi-circle and let out a collective, “What the Hell?”

  “Wasn’t that quote about occupations, a Jefferson quote?” asked Jenson.