What it means to live in a historic town like Fredericksburg, Va. and how we often miss the hidden gems and lessons that it has to offer.
By: Abigail Nibblett
Ferry Farm, George Washington's Boyhood Home
After living in Fredericksburg, Va. for over a year, I realized I hadn’t visited a single historical site when I was told that the city’s Halloween ghost tours were starting again. These tours highlight historically relevant places and the tour guides tell haunting stories that reveal the stories of each location. It sounded really interesting, so I wondered why I hadn’t made the attempt to visit any of these places before now, since I consider myself a history buff. Perhaps I had let just let myself get too caught up with classes to think about the bigger picture of where I live. Fredericksburg is a very historically involved city, mostly known for the fact that Mary Washington, mother of the first U.S. president, resided here. But besides the historic metal plaques that decorate the sidewalks, dating features back to sometime in the 1800s, what does it mean to live in a historically involved city? I’ve never stopped to consider the meaning of being surrounded by numerous historical monuments and artifacts.
I met with historic preservation Professor Christine Henry in her small square University of Mary Washington office to ask what she thought it meant. Henry, who is obsessed with artifacts to the point that she once had a squished penny museum in her own home, wishes that more people cared about the power of their historical town. Henry has noticed that people love using Fredericksburg as a backdrop, but rarely do they take time to ponder the layers and stories of the area. Henry, a petite woman with a pixie haircut, said that instead of seeing the town as a movie set for real life, it’s worth it to think about the buildings’ stories: what they witnessed, what they held, what they experienced.
Over the years, the city’s buildings have had many uses. The popular coffee shop, Hyperion, used to house The Star newspaper, which merged with another paper and is now the Free Lance-Star here in town. There’s a school that was reserved for African-Americans during segregation and since Fredericksburg was chartered in 1728, it has kept its original street grid. The antique store on the corner has a sign out front letting passers-by know that it was once a Revolutionary War hospital. Seeing things this way, the historic district becomes a living museum that people can live in, feel, and touch. Henry remembered her mother forbidding her to play with their family antiques growing up, so to her, living in Fredericksburg feels like a chance to actually play with toys from the past. She loves the fact that people can be a part of the history here, that they can live inside it.
Downtown Fredericksburg
I told Henry that I had always thought of Fredericksburg as a hipster college town and even though I knew that there was a lot of history here, I had never looked at it the way she had. Henry was quick to reassure me that I’m not that different from the majority of Fredericksburg’s residents. Despite there being tons of historical sites, people don’t go unless they have a reason. “It’s easy to get in a routine,” she said, “but if people are intentional about going out and experiencing all there is to experience, they will come away feeling inspired.”
I became determined to see it through her eyes.
Ferry Farm, George Washington's Boyhood Home
I visited Ferry Farm, George Washington’s boyhood home. After circling the entrance three times, confused by the construction that surrounded it, I found a way around the bright orange cones. The visitor’s center was built in classic Virginia style: tall and commanding with white columns, a red brick front, three oval glass windows, and a Greek-inspired pediment, which is a triangular piece that rested on top of the columns. I bought my ticket, $4.50 for students.
I learned that the original foundations for the house weren’t found until 2008, so it wasn’t even a visitor’s site until a few years ago. That’s the reason for all the construction going on outside. The first clue of its location was a large chunk of sandstone that was dug up when workers were building I-95. Since the sandstone was located near where archaeologists had speculated, based on evidence in Washington’s correspondence, that his home stood, they were prompted to investigate further. After they started digging, they got their confirmation. They were now constructing a replica of Washington’s boyhood home several yards from where the original home stood. Visitors can walk in the footsteps of the nation’s first president, follow his path down to the Rappahannock, walk through the gardens, and take a look at the artifacts that were once a part of Washington’s everyday life. If he really did chop down a cherry tree, this is where he would’ve done it.
The museum told me a story about how the first president’s mother, Mary Washington, was the head of the household after her husband died and that one of her goals was to emphasize self-improvement in her children, she wanted them to be refined, strive to earn their goals, and to treat others with kindness, each of which are reflected in George Washington’s leadership tactics. I learned that over 200 wig hair curlers were uncovered in the house, compared to the two that were unearthed at Mt. Vernon. This led to speculation that Mary Washington may have owned a slave that was talented at wig making and the family sold his products to other rich families. To add to the location’s rich history, I learned that Washington family artifacts were not the only ones uncovered, in fact there were several layers of artifacts on this property. Archaeologists unearthed Native American belongings, which date long before the Washington family ever occupied the land.
The Civil War also left its destructive mark on the property. In 1862, the war came to Ferry Farm, when the Union used it as a camp before they hoped to move in and strike the Confederates in Richmond. Artifacts found on the property included bullets, dice, ink wells, and a letter home which was signed off with “your affectionate friend till death,” in elaborate penmanship. During the second occupation, when the Confederacy severely beat the Union, the site was ransacked. Learning all that took place on this small piece of land really stuck with me and made me think about where I was standing. Native Americans, the Washingtons, and Civil War soldiers had all walked this ground before me, and we didn’t even know where this place was until 2008.
The garden at Ferry Farm
The Rappahannock River, as seen from Ferry Farm
While at Ferry Farm, I met an elderly gentleman who was also taking a tour and he noticed I was taking field notes. After asking me what they were for and what I was studying at school, he proceeded to tell me that “If my grandkids were here, they’d be going nuts.” He explained that they don’t really have the time or patience for this sort of thing, nor is it something that they’re really interested in. I thought his perspective said a lot about the current generation and again made me wonder why I had never made time for these things myself. He continued: “Now that we’re retired we slow down and read all the plaques.” He emphasized the importance of soaking in and appreciating all that’s around us, telling me that I should start now, while I still have plenty of time to see all that I can possibly see.
I stopped to talk to a young woman, Abby Avery, an employee at the visitor’s center. I asked her about the visitor demographic, curious as to how many people took advantage of this opportunity. She shared with me that the number of visitors is heavily dependent on the weather. “In the summer,” Abby shared, “we get a lot more families and a lot more people in general.” She said that a meager twenty people constitutes a busy day for them. Avery doesn’t feel that locals take advantage of the proximity, and says that a lot of people that visit will tell her they’ve lived here their entire lives, yet never been to see the site.
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Now, everywhere I walked through the city, I had to stop and consider the possibilities of what could be right underneath my feet that hasn’t been discovered yet.
Because I was making all these discoveries, I was curious to see how others felt. Kathryn Peterson, a student at the University of Mary Washington, shared that “community members want to preserve the history of Fred and use that history to attract people to the area.” What Peterson meant was that we are marketing history, even cheapening it, by creating characters from historical figures and using them to sell things. For example, the museum shared the narrative that Mary Washington urged her children to be the best versions of themselves, yet there’s no real way for us to know. Maybe she was the heroine the museum created a story about, but she was obviously much more complex than that; I paused to consider the real woman that had lived here. I wish I could know what she was truly like.
In our current day, we often talk about preserving history. As historical cities move forward and adapt to the present climate, we debate about whether to hold onto the objects and lessons from our past. We also make narrative choices when we choose which elements to preserve, which to simplify. When I thought about the Washington family land that I had just visited, and reflected on the overall history of the city, I didn’t pay attention to the separate details, but rather the fact that they were all a part of a much more complicated story. This is what living in a historic town taught me: how crucial it is to see the big picture.
After talking with Henry and visiting a site for myself, I’ve learned to stop and appreciate the little charismatic details that make Fredericksburg so unique and which reveal the stories of where we come from. I now go out of my way to read the plaques and spend a few extra minutes appreciating the architecture. I’ve finally noticed the bigger picture: it’s so important to get outside of ourselves and take a moment to appreciate the incredible artifacts and lessons we have access to, as well as taking the time to remember our history and those who sacrificed to get us to this point. When I drove through downtown the other day, I realized that Fredericksburg doesn’t feel like a postcard anymore, but rather a city that’s been alive and breathing for decades, a city that houses stories behind seemingly regular buildings and underneath the seemingly normal ground.