Washington Winter Show 2010

39 Sometimes, on a mild fall day, the streets seem bathed in a golden light. A place comfortable with itself, Georgetown has been a cultural and social center since the early days of the Republic and before. Its self-confidence is reinforced by continuity. Georgetown’s narrative is long and full. It is the chronicle, after all, of the beginning of a new country (Figure 1). Though the founding fathers are not there anymore, it’s not difficult to call up images of those days, with sunlight slanting through the tall windows where Jefferson dined, where Lafayette danced. Georgetown is a historic district, with layers of history, and though much has been taken, much remains (Figure 2). For a long time it took its history for granted. Then as time and lack of vigilance continued to threaten its treasures, those residents who were paying attention began to talk about preservation. Charleston, Alexandria and New Orleans all had historic districts protected by law, why shouldn’t Georgetown? It seemed necessary to save some of the fine old architecture in an area that was laid out in 1751. Accordingly, in September 1950, the Old Georgetown Act was enacted; this was a start on protecting what we have. The agreeable mix of grand and small houses remains to this day. Georgetown residents have risen up through the years and defended the things they cared about. Preservation has been guided and nurtured by the various watchdog groups, including the Fine Arts Commission, the National Capital Planning Commission, the National Park Service’s National Register of Historic Places, the Fine Arts Commission listings, and the neighborhood’s own Foundation for the Preservation of Historic Georgetown. From the beginning of the eighteenth century through the Georgian, Federal, and Classical Revival periods, up through the florid structures of the Gilded Age after the Civil War, residents have repeatedly come together to protect what they have created. “Georgetown’s survival,” according to its premiere historian, Mary Mitchell, “is nothing short of an urban miracle.” If we were able to go back through a time warp to the late eighteenth century, we would see open fields, orchards, cows grazing, lambs among the buttercups, livery stables, gravel walks, vineyards, bowers, bicycles. Bicycles were introduced at the Centennial Exposition of 1876 and rapidly became enormously popular. Under the big trees, in a leisurely southern atmosphere, we would see organ grinders and balloon men, pony rides with Mama, children rolling hoops. It was a typical tidewater town, southern in its population and social patterns (Figure 3). An easier time? Maybe, maybe not. It wasn’t all a picture book world. Medical care was primitive; there were fearsome slums and people living in dreadful conditions in service alleys. These were the people who serviced the big houses close by. Everybody sold seafood; the yards today are still full of oyster shells (Figure 4). You could swim in the Potomac and get baptized in Rock Creek. George Washington died in 1799. In 1800, the capital in its tangible form was put on barges in Philadelphia and moved to Washington. Of course, the city of Washington didn’t really exist, consisting as it did of unfinished buildings draped in scaffolding, muddy unpaved roads and fetid malarial swamps . Even then people preferred to live in Georgetown with its pleasing ambience and small-town character. Abigail Figure 3: Dancing class for young girls, Georgetown circa 1900. National Photo Company Collection (reproduction number 30742). Courtesy Library of Congress, Prints and Photographs Division. Gift of Herbert A. French. Figure 4: Suter’s Tavern, circa 1919. This popular and long-lived establishment was located at 31st and Water Streets. Glass negative (reproduction number LC-DIG-npcc-00083) from the National Photo Company Collection, courtesy Library of Congress, Prints and Photographs Division. Gift of Herbert A. French. This page is sponsored by Sheila Proby Gross