Remember Pearl Harbor

In our family, we learned to remember Pearl Harbor early in life because of my grandmother Bernice Calvert. She was an eyewitness to the attack, but her journey to Hawaii started here in Washington, DC.

In 1933 Bernice, a young widow, was managing the Broadmoor Apartments on Connecticut Avenue. She met her next husband when he was playing violin at the Broadmoor's afternoon teas. Bernie was from New York, but came to Washington to attend medical school at Georgetown. The gig gave him some spending money.

Bernie was a charming and talented guy.  He did this sketch of Bernice on the back of his business card. They were married on November 4, 1936.

When Bernie graduated from Georgetown, he accepted a commission in the Medical Corps Reserves and was called into active service in April of 1941 in the territory of Hawaii. Not knowing this trip would be much, much longer than anticipated, they rented out their house, climbed into their car and drove to San Francisco, stopping along the way to take in Old Faithful and other sights out West.

In California, they were stalled for weeks waiting for a transport ship. They killed some time in Los Angeles where they met movie stars like Marlene Dietrich thanks to an MGM studio pass Bernie had scored from his musical connections. A diary mentions lunch with "Spencer and Gable,"  and an encounter with Charlie Chaplin and his family at the bird zoo in Catalina. Bernie remembers chatting up Chaplin and being allowed to take a photo with Pauline Goddard.  (Boy, I wish I could find that shot.)

Finally a Matson Line ship became available. Bernice and Bernie arrived in Honolulu in early July. Back then travelers were traditionally greeted by Hawaiian women with armfuls of leis, but they also saw waves of P-40s and bombers dipping their wings to say "hello" to the new crew. As the ship docked, the Royal Hawaiian band played "Aloha Oe" and other native songs while crowds below shouted and waved. 

After watching a sunset near Diamond Head, Bernie wrote "It was like having walked all your life in a haze and in muck- then suddenly breaking through the mist and seeing a great panorama in front of you."

The attack came just before 8 a.m. on a Sunday morning, Bernie's day off. A neighbor woke them by pounding on the door and shouting. Bernie, in shock, turned on the radio to confirm the unbelievable news. A broadcast of a church service was soon interrupted with the announcement:  "The island of Oahu is under enemy attack...all officers report...all citizens stay off the streets. Keep calm. Everything is under control."  Bernie got dressed, and still feeling dazed, left for Tripler with the captain who lived next door. On the way they saw billows of black smoke rising from the harbor, and three low flying planes. The news became all too real.

At the hospital, the scene was pure frenzy. Wounded civilians and soldiers, both dead and alive poured in all morning.  One victim was carried in on a street sign. A bomb dropped so close to the hospital that a convalescing patient died from shrapnel wounds. Many young soldiers urged Bernie to take care of others before themselves. Towards midday Bernie went home to collect his surgeons' tools, but a crowd stood in the street, blocking the way. It took a moment for Bernie to realize that the front of his house was almost demolished. Most of the windows had been shattered by shrapnel.

The concussion of a bomb, which fell across the street from their home, had knocked Bernice to the floor, but amazingly, she only suffered a twisted ankle. Bernie found his wife at a neighbor's house and took her with him back to the hospital.  Bernice washed instruments and cut bandages while Bernie went back to the surgery. They worked through the day and most of the night.

I don't have a photo of the hospital, but I found the photo below with Bernie's things. He was an avid photographer so he may have taken this himself; there are no official markings on the back.

Almost all of the Army wives and children would leave the islands as soon as possible, but my grandmother wanted to stay despite the curfews, blackouts, and a new life which included gas masks always at the ready.

Bernice became a censor at the post office and volunteered with the Red Cross.

By February 1942,  she wrangled a full time position as a paid social worker for the Home Service of the Red Cross. Her evacuation was deferred.

Bernie and Bernice also organized a theater group and gave performances throughout the islands before the USO made the scene. (I wonder if she was rethinking her decision in this shot taken in their living room probably around Christmas of 1942.)

Bernice witnessed both the beginning and the end of the war first hand.  My mother told us that she was the only woman correspondent to cover the war in the South Pacific, and that she was aboard the USS Missouri when the Japanese surrendered.

 After the war, Bernice remained on the islands helping the Red Cross pick up the pieces of many altered lives.  She never lost her love for all things Hawaiian and stayed overseas for twenty years.

The Ambassador Theater and How It Rocked DC

Around 1927, my mother remembers walking with her Dad from Mozart Place to the Ambassador Theater on 18th and Columbia Road to see something new. It was "a talkie" featuring Al Jolson in The Jazz Singer. Now flash forward forty years to 1967 when the shuttered theater became a home to something new again - an amazing place to see rock n' roll. I, unfortunately, was only about eight at the time, but this past weekend, yet another forty years forward, I went to a reunion of those who made it happen. Jeff Krulik our local film maker (and hero) helped bring these guys together from all over the country for this event.

In 1967 Tony Finestra, Court Rodgers and Joel Mednick were three young guys selling fire extinguishers of all things when they heard about the Summer of Love out in San Francisco. Out there they went, and when they came back to D.C., they came with a vision to make things happen here. They rented the Ambassador Theater, fixed it up, and booked The Grateful Dead. The Dead's equipment arrived, but unfortunately the city pulled their permit at the last minute not wanting a hippie project to move forward when things were getting touch in the anti- war movement. But our boys fought back and finally opened on July 28, 1967 with a local band, Natty Bumpo, and headliner The Peanut Butter Conspiracy.

The Ambassador was an enormous space. All 1500 seats had been removed. The Psychedelic Power and Light Company took over the balcony and used multiple projectors and black lights to fill the room and cover the walls with colors and images- a stand alone show of its own. Tickets were $1.50 on week nights, $2.50 on weekends.

The mezzanine level boasted a head shop selling lava lamps, posters and well, you know, hippie stuff. What a scene it must have been. Not only was it a concert hall, but neighborhood kids were invited for special matinees. It was also used as a staging area for the march on the Pentagon. Even Norman Mailer showed up on stage
.

A young guy named Jimi Hendrix had been touring with The Monkees that same summer, but his style didn't quite fit that double bill. His manager begged The Ambassador folks to let him play there for 5 nights that August, and Pete Townsend of The Who came to see him. (I'm not making this stuff up- ask Nils Lofgren) This all happened here.

More From Nils Lofgren:
"The room was humming, not only with the expectation of seeing the Jimi Hendrix Experience, but that Pete Townshend was in the audience, and it was just an extraordinary pivotal night for me. Hendrix came out and said he was going to dedicate the first song to Pete Townshend and he was going to do a rendition of 'Sgt. Pepper.' Now being naive, and being a huge Beatles lover, a lot of us thought 'well, you're only a three piece band, how can you play 'Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band,' there's all these other guitars and strings.' We just didn't have a clue of what Hendrix was really about. He counted off the song and I remember he kind of disappeared, he just did one of those things where he fell to the floor, sitting on the floor rocking with the guitar between his legs kind of doing a 'Purple Haze/ Sgt. Peppers' riff, then he sort of bounces back up and does an insane version of 'Sgt. Peppers Lonely Hearts Club Band.' And when he dropped to the floor everyone just jumped up to try to see him, and from that moment on everyone was standing and mesmerized by obviously the greatest rock and roll guitar player that ever lived... There were just a lot of inspired moments like that at the Ambassador; it was this dark, beautiful, haunted, inspired room that you could go to and get lost in the light show and friends and the camradarie and the excitement of being in the audience discovering all this great new music; it was this real pivotal place in Washington, DC for all of the music scene, young and old."

Canned Heat, Moby Grape, John Lee Hooker, Vanilla Fudge, The Fugs, The Paul Butterfield Blues Band and more all appeared at The Ambassador. Our own Joe Dolan of The Beatnik Flies mopped the floors there. His cousin, Patty made this hoe-down poster.

The sad thing, as often happens in this realm, the scene wouldn't last. It was partly a matter of bad publicity and partly the atmosphere of the times. (Even I remember how threatened people were by the hippie thing.) At the reunion, stories were told about police who gave parking tickets to legally parked theater goers and waited outside to arrest kids who had violated the D.C. curfew.

The experiment ended about six months later, and the theater was torn down not too long after. Today the site is occupied by a vapid, non descript plaza. The next time you are in Adam's Morgan, you might want to walk by there-and remember Jimi plus all the others that once played music or danced in the light shows.

Remember the ghosts that once were dreams.

P.S. Speaking of ghosts: The Ambassador once stood on the site of The Knickerbocker Theater which collapsed under the weight of snow in 1922. Ninety eight people were killed.

Old School Family Affair at Wilson

Our family has had a decent showing at Woodrow Wilson High School going way back almost to the very beginning when Wilson first opened its doors in 1935. My uncle Nick Cokinos, who graduated in 1939, was a running back on Wilson's inaugural football team in the fall of 1936 and helped win their first exhibition game against St Alban's played in the pouring rain. The team had only one experienced player that year, but somehow managed to win two games before their lack of experience caught up with them later that season. Never one to be to be daunted, once Spring came, Nick played baseball as well.

Nick seemed to be a stellar player. As far as I know he only got into trouble when he wore his brother George's beloved red football jersey from Western The coach gave him hell and made him turn it in.  My father told me this story many times. He must have really loved that shirt.

Nick seemed to be a stellar player. As far as I know he only got into trouble when he wore his brother George's beloved red football jersey from Western The coach gave him hell and made him turn it in.

My father told me this story many times. He must have really loved that shirt and now that I've found a picture of it I can see why:

Leaping forward my brother Pete Cokinos became a Tiger in 1952. Like his uncle, he signed up for as many teams as possible- in his case- football, track, and wrestling. The football team had plenty of experience by then and ended the year undefeated. The Tigers went on to beat Western for the Inter-high Title which took them to Griffith Stadium in December to compete for the City Title. In front of a crowd of thousands, Wilson trounced St John's 24-6 for its one. Our sister and future Tiger, Patsy was there to root them on.

Go team.

Pete Cokinos #37

Now my daughter Zoe is a Wilson Tiger, too, though soccer was about it for her.
Thus the reunion of the champions of 1952 and the Homecoming game this year became a family reunion for us. Brother Pete drove in from Michigan, while my parents who went to Western, my sister and my daughter all dug up their green and white gear. We convened in the bleachers at a school which structurally hasn't changed much since 1952 although Chuck Brown wasn't playing over the PA during time outs back then.  The bleachers and the field are in the same place, but a new "press box" has been somewhat awkwardly erected, and everyone tripped over the footings.

My brother Pete, and what was left of the team paraded out at half time.  Even a cheerleader was able to make it back. A lot may have changed over the years, but what hasn't changed is a stand full of kids cheering on their teams. Even though Wilson was trounced 34-13, camaraderie saved the day.

Ad from The 1953 Wilson High School Yearbook

A Sad State of Affairs

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Mayor Fenty just fired the contractor for the Hardy Middle School renovation. I guess it's one of those bad news good news things. The bad news is that Hardy Middle School, formerly Gordon Junior High and my kids' alma mater, is a year behind and a gazillion dollars over budget. The good news? The contractor was fired, but I'd heard they were doing a good job whenever they could get out from under DC's bureaucracy.

The renovations were supposed to be done in stages while the students remained at the school, but with all the delays the decision was made in 2005 to move the entire population out to a swing space so that the project could be completed on time- within a year. My son graduated last June in the half vacant Hamilton School, and this year's class will certainly not be graduating in the new building either. The truth about the delays, I'm sure is in its usual position- nestled down just out of sight, somewhere in the neutral ground between all that finger pointing.

The thing is I still can't help -once again- but look across town to that new baseball stadium.
I love baseball as much as the next guy, but groundbreaking there was in May 2006- a long time after the Hardy project was well under way. Of course it's all politics... and economics and apples and oranges. But can someone explain how all that works to the children of this city?

(And when they are done, could they explain it to me?)


(Hardy' s Moving Day 2006)

Go Tigers

Wilson's back to school night got off to a rough start yesterday. The doors stood open, and the auditorium was very warm not having the benefit of air conditioning. The first speaker urged every one to move up as there was no PA system. The principal seemed to be running a few minutes late. Lights kept blinking, and if you looked up, you noticed the large areas of plaster rotting up there in the ceiling. But then, with no press, photography or fanfare, up popped our new mayor, Adrian Fenty.

Fenty's voice was clear and strong while he gave the mandatory short spiel on making school improvements. It was such a morale booster that it really didn't matter what he said. The most important thing to me was that he was there with us in that stuffy room, and that it was not the first time he had been at this school. It is somewhat comforting that he is from this town as generally only people who are from here can understand things here, and even we find it A Challenge.

The rest of the night went well. The teachers, for once, were not complaining about a lack of books or other glaring oversights. There was even a glimmer of optimism. The stadium and field have been renovated, and the pool is finally under reconstruction.

Wilson was a brand new school back in the 1930s, when my dad's brother, Nick Cokinos attended. You can literally feel its age going up the stairs which are concave now like the steps of a Roman coliseum. It's still a beautiful building despite its age, but it desperately needs improvement- as do the vast majority of our city schools. Perhaps there is a tiny glimmer now,  just there at the end of this long dark tunnel, but it sure is amazing how fast that new baseball stadium is getting built.

Rodman's Rocks

With all the construction going on up there in Friendship Height's, it's comforting to me to see Rodman's still going strong at 5100 Wisconsin Avenue. Starting in 1955 as a drugstore, today the store sells everything from shallots to Gumby. As Arlo Guthrie once said in Alice's Restaurant "You can get anything you want" at Rodman's, but there is a minor drawback or two.

The first problem with going to Rodman's is getting out of there. You might go in for one quick thing like LU's Cinnamon Sugar Biscuits which Safeway doesn't carry anymore, but as soon as you walk in, there are 30% off fireworks right next to the BBQ sets and the Toblerone bars. This is the back entrance which is a narrow one person aisle created by stacks and stacks of food and drink: tomato sauce, olives, chutney, baby clams, wine, vinegar, sardines, curry paste, Parmesan cheese and stuffed peppers. (Wait is that a topping or a side dish?) All kinds of jam, marinated artichokes, and olive oil.

The second problem is which aisle to run to first?
Wine? Beer? Snacks?
Look- there's those Italian cookies, the ones in the big red tins.  Lazzaroni's used to have the wrappers you could light on fire and make a wish on as they rose to the ceiling. And those weird chocolate cigar type cookies someone bought for us in Greece once, not to mention digestive biscuits, whatever they are, and those cinnamon ones I just remembered I came in here for.

Oh, and they have Lady Grey Tea. Safeway doesn't seem to stock that anymore either. Fritos, Doritos and crystallized ginger. I don't what to do with it, but I'm intrigued. Here are squirt bottles of Kalamata olive puree under a sign that says "dessert toppings".  And something that looks like shrunken heads over there in the produce aisle turns out to be celery root. Celery root? Oh look- they've got a great deal on lemons. Does anyone need a scratch off ticket? A baguette would be good for later. And do I have enough tuna fish?

Over in the beverage aisles, I am befriended by DC native, "Hoppy Dave" who educated me as best he could on the amazing variety of beers he stocks. A happily bewildering experience that almost involved me getting a second cart. (Warning-one cart is bad enough in there- something akin to navigating a Hummer through the back streets of Georgetown.)

By the time Dave was finished with me, I had a basket full of beers I'd never heard of, but couldn't wait to try-including Bell's Batch 8,000, a commemorative ale which only gets made every 8,000 years. ( I might be wrong there, but my head only holds a limited amount of numbers) He also filled me in on my high school teacher, Bob Tupper who went on to produce Tupper's Hop Pocket Ale, an excellent adult beverage courtesy of Old Dominion Brewery which, Dave tells me, has been bought now by Budweiser. What? That's why there was no Tupper's in sight as the Tuppers don't deal with "Bud.

Now I've solved the problem of leaving Rodman's. My cart is full even though I didn't even make it downstairs where the household products are.  The coffee makers, the watch repair, play-doh, hair brushes and oh, yes, Gumby. Not to mention the pharmacy and the vitamins which will all have to wait until next time.

Mat Thorp "Cokinos"

Because "exclusive" is not in my family vocabulary please welcome my neighbor, Mat Thorp into the fold of this blog. Although Matt is not from here, he has spent enough time here to have plenty of street cred since his arrival after serving in World War Two. Here is Mat's "inclusion":





"To make sure that I get included in your, obviously exclusive blog; here are my Greek bonafides: The second photo from the right margin on the top line is Lynn`s mother, Lynn, with Nick Gaston owner of the Old New Orleans night club on 18th Street at Connecticut Ave. This was taken by the Old New Orleans cigarette/photographer girl. On Lynn`s and my first date in 1949, she asked me to meet her at Nick`s house on the Virginia side of Key Bridge where he had Sunday poolside parties. Nick`s main business was brokering restaurant deals. When Lynn and I were married the second time, Nick had the wedding group to the Old New Orleans before opening time."

Thanks for the memories, Mat!

Birthday Ray

(Jeanne and Bebe 1952)

Once upon a time a woman named Jeanne Lightbound went to Western High School for just one year and became good friends with a Greek kid named George Cokinos. Jeanne went back to Bethesda Chevy Chase High school, but she never forgot George. If she hadn't kept up that friendship with George, we never would have met all her BCC pals like Charles Bernard, whom she married, and Ray Stone who is celebrating his 90th birthday today.


(Irene, Bebe and Ray 1945)

The gang, Ray and Irene Stone, Roy and Marge Cross and Jeanne's husband Charles Bernard met George and Bebe in the late 1930s. After the war everybody started having children and playing Bridge. George, Ray and Charles went into the home building business together before Ray began Bethesda TV and Charles got into selling Oldsmobiles. The friends went to the beach and later traveled the world together.


(Peter and Roger Cokinos w/ Ray Stone 1950)



(Trip to Bermuda 1970 back when everybody got dressed up to get on a plane)

In the late 1960s, George and Ray built beach cottages side by side in South Bethany. The property was cheap after a huge storm destroyed most of the beachfront houses on Ash Wednesday in 1962.

Bethany Beach after the storm

The two houses ended up being so close together that we could communicate with an intercom which was fun but unreliable. When that didn't work, we used sign language. We didn't have phones at the beach.

One time George urgently summoned Ray, telling him that a fire had broken out. Ray rushed over to our house only to find George grinning, standing over a griddle full of pancakes. Too bad Ray forgot to tell Irene, who was waiting anxiously next door, that it was just a joke.

Bebe recalls the time they went out on Ray's boat and their friend, Nadine spilled a cocktail down her front. She went below and took her bra off, and they hung it on the rigging to dry. When they came back to dock for dinner, they made quite the entrance with Ray coming in a bit too fast, and the red bra flying.

Happy birthday, Ray. You still have your good looks, not to mention that winning personality.

Hot Hazy Humid Then and Now

picnic at mayo beach 1940

It is hot which is nothing new here in Washington, DC in the summertime. What is new is the heat index which is telling us how hot we FEEL. I could live without that. I have been living through these sweltering summers almost all of my life, but it's disconcerting now to know small children and older people should not even be breathing the air. On these hot summer days all eyes turn toward the Eastern Shore.

Way back when, before the Chesapeake Bay Bridges, a trip to the beach was most likely by car or ferry and did not necessarily mean the Atlantic Ocean. Ferries could take you to places like Betterton Beach or St Michael's- once thriving water front communities. Now you can still find sleepy piers on either side of the bay while the traffic swarms down Route Fifty towards Rehobeth or Ocean City.

My parents, George and Bebe, used to go to beaches on the DC side of the bay like Chesapeake Beach, Mayo, and Woodland. There were nets to catch the nettles that didn't work very well, and the water was shallow, but it was wet, and hopefully a breeze was stirring the air. Cousins Koula and Thelma had a cottage in North Beach, and their friend, Johnny Monaco had a place in South Beach. Johnny would catch soft shells or fish for dinner. Sometimes my parents would sneak into the dances at Beverly Beach where no "immigrants" or "Mediterraneans" were allowed, but my DC born "Greek" father was light haired and blue eyed and got away with passing.

dc space reunion/benefit for Tom Terrell

DC Space, 2005
Originally uploaded by IntangibleArts

There is a home town party this weekend at the new 9:30 Club in the form of a dc space reunion party/ benefit for Tom Terrell beloved deejay and friendly familiar voice to many a  night owl. The 9:30 Club and dc space were located in what once was a forlorn F Street shopping district during the late 1970s and 1980s. The Hecht's Departent Store is now a Macy's, and part of Woodies is becoming a Madame Tussaud's Wax Museum. The 9:30 Club has since moved to V Street, near Howard University.

When dc space opened on the corner of 7th and E, music fans started being a path between 9: 30 and space. Now the building houses a Starbucks, and during construction workers found an old office upstairs that once belonged to Clara Barton.

Over fifty artists, including the founders of both 9:30 and dc space, are gathering to celebrate 9:30's 30th anniversary, and in the spirit of benevolence, many are donating their talents this Sunday, July 29th. Doors open at 4. Twenty dollar donation. Performances including music, poetry and film will be ongoing until 1 a.m.

Farewell A.V. Ristorante

(photo by bethhowe1 @ flickr)

Augosto Vasaio opened his landmark Italian restaurant "AV" in July 1949 on New York Avenue, and it became a magnet for all who love to eat. My cousin, Pete adored it for the large portions of comfort food, Italian style. He was in heaven when we had cousin parties there. I remember him ordering platter after platter until we all left groaning. We made sure we used a lot of napkins because the restaurant was a customer of Modern Linen which our fathers ran throughout the 1960s and 1970s. "Modern" kept them supplied with tablecloths and napkins for many years.

cousin party circa 1985

My father remembers that Augusto used to fill a big station wagon full of American things like stockings, toothpaste, and cigarettes- whatever he thought he could sell overseas. He (and the car) would get on a boat to Italy every year, and come back with a load of olive oil, pasta, cheeses and all that Italian yard art that A.V. is so famous for in the courtyard.

Another piece of Washington history is slipping away. The doors close July 28.

H Street Northeast Revisited

Now that H Street is coming back into its own, I wanted to pick my father George’s brain about what it was like back in his day, in the 1920s. I decided we ought to take a tour, and see what was left, so my parents and I climbed into my pollen laden car and went back in time.

Our first hurdle was getting to H Street from Northwest to Northeast. Everywhere we went the streets are being ripped up with new construction. Plus George couldn’t see through all the green funk on the windshield so that was a handicap, but we finally found the block where my grandfather, Peter Cokinos, had his candy shop at 1103 H Street.

Pete opened this shop after working with his cousin James on 8th Street SE. He made candy and ice cream in the basement here, and my father was one of his biggest shoplifters.

H Street has been slow to recover from the the riots of 1968. Whole blocks were burned, and this was one of them. The exact address is gone, but there is a convenience store at 1101 H Street right about where the shop should be.

I asked Dad about other Greeks in the neighborhood back then, and you couldn’t swing a cat without hitting a half dozen families - including branches of our own clan. James Cokinos bought the candy shop from my grandfather and also had a deli at 10th and K.  Another cousin Nick Kendros had the Woodward Sandwich Shop at 1422 H Street. The Kavakos family ran a grill at 8th and H which became a very popular nightclub during World War II, but was torn down in the 1990s.

The Kalevas family ran the Rendezvous- another hot spot. The Chaconas Bar and Grill was at 10th and H, and the Bacchus Grill was at H and 15th (owned by the Bacchus family not the god) He also remembers the Paramount Grill run by two Greek brothers. It was "a blue collar sort of breakfast place." (Imagine that.) The Gatsos family had a barber shop where you could get your shoes shined, too.

The Gatsos Family

Besides all the Greeks in the neighborhood, there was also Whal's Department Store which was two stories high and carried everything. There were three movie theaters- the Apollo, the Empire and the Princess - all of them gone now. (The Atlas which is now a performing arts center didn’t open until the late 1930s.)

Our next stop was 919 11th Street, the house where my Dad was born. (yes, at home) Here's the family on the front porch around 1923.

The block is a little worn down now, the fluted columns on the houses have been replaced, but the place is still standing in 2002. It was 20 feet wide and 35 feet deep, and they used every inch. My father says the kitchen was in the basement which was common at the time.

A few blocks away, at the corner of Montello and Neal, we found Samuel E Wheatley Elementary. Dad didn't recognize it at first with its two large additions. When he went there in 1920, it was a brand new school named for a very popular police commissioner and businessman. The building is empty now, but plans are underway to renovate. This is where Dad and Aunt Catherine walked to school, and where they learned to speak English. (Only Greek was spoken at home.)

Finally we went to the DC Farmer's Market on Florida Avenue.  A lot of the stalls are boarded up now, but Dad remembers when it was all going full force so it took us a while to find Litteri's Italian market- one of the few places left with a lot of history.

Little has changed since this Italian grocery and deli moved here in 1932. (Mom thought she even recognized one of the countermen.) After a long wait for sandwiches worth waiting for, we picnicked with the carpenter bees at my son Kit’s school, Hardy, which is being temporarily housed in the Hamilton School. I can't help but note that the building is located on Brentwood Parkway just off Florida Avenue, within walking distance of his grandfather's childhood.