America's Front Yard

Washington, D.C., has been in the news lately, so let me introduce this week's column by saying that it was not inspired by any of the stories about law enforcement in our nation's capital or the scrutiny of the Smithsonian's signage. America has plenty of political commentators, and I am not one of them.

Rather, I chose to write about the National Mall this week because the Mind Inclined team filmed a Moving Experience there a few months ago, and it premieres this month.

I hope you enjoy this column, and I invite you to upgrade to a paid subscription (only $5 per month!) for access to this virtual tour (as well as all of our future Moving Experiences), along with recordings of classic poems and stories, discounts on in-person tours, and even some slick Mind Inclined swag.

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If you were laying out a city, what would you include?

There would be some essentials, of course: neighborhoods, fire and police stations, businesses (although the rise of e-commerce and work-from-home arrangements may eventually make that last one obsolete, I suppose).

If you like this kind of thing, you probably would enjoy arranging these various components for efficiency and visual appeal, but you also would probably want to include some kind of centerpiece — a space that, though technically not necessary, has social significance, emotional resonance, even a wow factor.

The National Mall plays this role in Washington, DC.  In fact, this beautiful expanse in the nation's capital has been called "America's Front Yard."

A Long History of a Long Space

The history of the National Mall goes all the way back to 1791.  The previous year, Congress had officially decided that the capital of the United States would be located at a spot on the Potomac River between Maryland and Virginia.  George Washington, who was president at the time, chose his friend Pierre L'Enfant, an engineer and architect who had volunteered to serve in the Continental Army during the American Revolution, to design the city. 

It would be nearly a century and a half later, however, before the National Mall, roughly as we know it today, came to fruition under the supervision of America's greatest landscape architect, Frederick Law Olmsted.  If that name sounds familiar, it's because Olmsted designed New York's Central Park.  His legacy in DC also includes design of the grounds around the U.S. Capitol. 

Knowing the Value of Nothing

Building a capital city from scratch required a lot of thought.  Just imagine all the logistics.  In the midst of the myriad of things to consider and plan, why would anyone devote much thought to a giant open space?  An open space is, after all, mainly nothing.  Literally, compared with structures such as the Capitol and the Washington Monument, much of the Mall looks and feels like nothing.

Sometimes it pays to know the value of nothing.

I'm reminded of a sentence from my first novel (still waiting for a publisher, so . . .if anyone named Simon, Schuster, Harper, or Collins is reading this column, I'm sitting by the phone.)  That sentence reads, "Nothing is pure."  Without getting into the ambiguity of that sentence, I'll say simply that there is something uncluttered, unadulterated, just un- about emptiness, especially when that nothing exists in the middle of a city filled with eyefuls of buildings, sculptures, roads, signs, and stoplights.  Sometimes our bodies — and our eyes — just need some space.

Besides, aesthetically, nothingness is a kind of foil for somethingness, providing contrast, even a kind of blank to set off other things.  The brilliant (and, let's face it, just plain cool) Keith Richards of The Rolling Stones recognized the value of nothingness when he said, "A painter’s got a canvas. The writer’s got reams of empty paper. A musician has silence.”  Just as a musician doesn't have to fill all the silence, a city designer doesn't have to fill all of the space.

Something to Prove

There's more to this story, though.  Remember that Washington was a new capital of a new nation.  Back in the 1790s, the United States had something to prove. 

L'Enfant did not simply dream up his design for Washington.  Rather, he looked to the designs of Europe (a logical source of exemplary models for a country that had just separated from England and had close ties to other European countries).  He got some help.  He was able to get his hands on some actual plans, thanks to someone with an interest in this kind of thing — a fellow by the name of Thomas Jefferson.  It pays to have connections. 

As recounted in "A History of the National Mall and Pennsylvania Avenue National Park," L'Enfant's design "reflected the grand ambitions of the fledgling nation — a showcase capital city to rival those in Europe and reflect the immense promise of the former colonies" (NPS).

Now, we know what sometimes happens to the best-laid plans.  They "Gang aft agley," right?  (OK, maybe that's not how you remembered the expression, but the actual words that Robert Burns wrote in his poem "To a Mouse" are "The best laid schemes o' Mice an' Men / Gang aft agley . . ."  My Scottish readers should feel free to jump in here and provide their own personal translation.)

In short, "L'Enfant's plan was not fully achieved," as the National Park Service puts it.  Like Rome, the National Mall was not built in a day (or a year or a decade or even a century).  At one point, in fact, the space between the Capitol and the Washington Monument served as a place to store firewood and trash.  Railroad tracks crossed it.  Cattle grazed here.  It's hard to imagine that L'Enfant envisioned any of this for his grand plan, but look at it now.

First and Lasting Impressions

Today, the National Mall is "America's Front Yard," one that serves us well.

You probably have heard that you never get a second chance to make a first impression.  Like a front yard, the National Mall makes a powerful first impression or, in some cases, a lasting impression, on those who experience it.  Its size and appearance are part of what make this impression a powerful and positive one.  According to the National Park Service, this expanse has more than 9000 trees, as well as some majestic structures, including the iconic Washington Monument, the unforgettable Lincoln Memorial, the impressive Martin Luther King, Jr., Memorial, and, my favorite, the deeply moving Vietnam Veterans Memorial.

What makes the National Mall shine even more brightly are the people.  According to the National Park Service, more than 25 million people come here every year.  Thanks to the more than 26 miles of sidewalks, 8 miles of trails for bicycles, and 15 softball diamonds, along with volleyball courts and even rugby pitches, many of these people are walking, running, and playing.  They are having their own Moving Experiences, you might say.

All too often we see humans at their worst — fighting, exploiting, stealing, cheating.  The National Mall, on the other hand, is a kind of natural stage where we see people experiencing peace, admiration, and joy.  Go for a walk or a run there (as I love to do), and you might see families and friends walking or biking together, adults playing games, and tourists from around the world taking in the inspiring sights representing American ideals: the Capitol, the Washington Monument, several Smithsonian Museums, and more.  You also might catch a festival or a demonstration — scenes of people coming together in celebration or fervent expression of some cause or value dear to them.

These scenes make the National Mall one of my favorite places in the entire country.  It's a front yard that makes everyone feel welcome and Americans feel proud.

My new Moving Experiences virtual tours, available with an elevated Mind Inclined subscription, feature video footage, along with my narration and explanations to enrich your understanding of these literary and historical locales. Watch and listen on your phone while you are in these places or use them to enrich your time on the treadmill.