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A 2020 Author’s Note to Ghosts of Belle Isle

It’s July 4th weekend, but fireworks have been booming across the globe for months here in the summer of 2020. The world is gradually moving out of quarantine from the COVID-19 pandemic, yet most faces wear masks, many fear that infection rates are spiking, and no one knows how school will look in the fall. Racial protests have also exploded with outrage over police brutality to the African American community and matters of institutional racism. With presidential elections looming in November, our nation’s birthday feels more divided by political lines than ever. In Richmond, the former capital of the Confederacy, tensions from Virginia’s spotted past have reached a boiling point over the Confederate statues that line the city’s historic Monument Avenue. 

My family moved south to the Richmond area from New Jersey in the spring of 2011. As a “northern Yankee,” I was quickly amazed and inspired by the history that burst from every corner, and I began imagining how to write exciting stories for young readers that featured historical themes. When I wrote Ghosts of Belle Isle in the summer of 2014, my view of the Civil War, segregation, and many issues that had been simmering in Virginia for generations was admittedly distant. I’d seen enough Confederate flags still flying to know that writing on such themes could be complicated, so I attempted to tread lightly, speaking plainly to the evils of slavery, while seeking sensitivity to a southern culture that I was still working to understand. 

The “grand” statues that lined Richmond’s Monument Avenue didn’t immediately strike me as hurtful or offensive objects, but rather unique artifacts from a different era whose chapter had been firmly closed by a Union victory. The suggestion of adding historical context and educational signage to the monuments seemed reasonable. I was surprised to learn that the comparatively small and understated statue of Abraham Lincoln behind Tredegar had faced significant opposition when it was unveiled in 2003. 

Ghosts features three young kids embroiled in an adventure that includes school bullies, mysterious legends of long-dead soldiers still battling over the James River, a biker gang with southern pride and nostalgia for Confederate leaders like Jefferson Davis and Robert E. Lee, and other aspects from the war that ripped our young nation apart. As in life, some of the characters in this book are flawed—they can act kindly to children while also holding attitudes that might advance segregationist and racist views. My goal was to prompt young readers (and perhaps older ones too) to question what brought us here, how they see the ever-changing world around them, and consider ways they might positively impact the future.   

Remaining uneducated about a topic is often the easiest way to “innocently” ignore injustice. I’m now more intentionally listening to books and stories from voices whose experiences have differed widely from mine. These efforts are by no means complete, but as I’ve dug into the challenging history of reconstruction, Jim Crow, Massive Resistance, land annexation, and more, it’s become clear that some things haven’t changed as much as I’d assumed. While Richmond’s monuments may have been erected to “glorify the southern cause,” they also served to proclaim a stubborn determination to continue treating some people as less-than. Despite Jefferson’s declaring that “all men are created equal,” and Lincoln’s formal proclamations of emancipation, Martin Luther King’s dream of all people being treated equally has not been fulfilled.  

Last week I walked back down Monument Avenue with my son on a hot Friday afternoon. I wanted to see with my own eyes the new reality of the Robert E. Lee statue, now blanketed in paint, emotional messages and banners, and small memorials with pictures of victims of racial violence. For many, the shadows cast by these enormous statues served as one of the barriers to true racial healing and reconciliation. The governor has stated plans to soon remove the sixty-foot bronze statue of General Lee from this spot, where he has towered above the avenue on horseback since 1890. Several of Richmond’s Confederate statues have already come down, some upended from their hundred-year-old pedestals by the ropes of protestors, and others by city workers and cranes. To be sure, simply removing some statues will not build better schools, ensure more just treatment by the law, or bring greater economic opportunity, but it could be a start. 

Six years have passed since I published Ghosts. That doesn’t seem like a long time, yet the world feels different. I pray that amidst whatever turmoil still lies ahead, our land of imperfect people might come together to find ways to love, understand, and respect one another. That we might continue to strive for a more perfect union where all people are treated equally as they pursue life, liberty, and happiness. Thanks for reading.

Deleted Scene from Escape from Monticello: The Virginia Mysteries Book 8

Copyright 2020 by Steven K. Smith

R U Ready?

The text beeped on Sam’s phone on the kitchen counter. 

Mrs. Murphy’s white SUV pulled up to the driveway. “She’s here!” Derek hollered.

The boys met Caitlin halfway down the driveway, her face in a mischievous grin. “Come on, I have something to show you guys.”

When they walked up to her car, a furry yellow head leaped up at the backseat window, almost tumbling out on top of them. Sam jumped back, but then smiled at the adorable furry face hanging out the window.

“Say hello to Maddie!” said Caitlin, petting its ears.

“You got a dog?” asked Sam. It was a surprise. She hadn’t told him anything about getting a new pet. 

“Awesome,” said Derek. “He’s cute. Is he coming to the river with us?”

“Hi, boys,” said Mrs. Murphy from the driver’s seat. “It’s a ‘she,’ but yes, she’s planning on joining us if it’s okay with you.”

“Works for me,” said Derek, running around to the front passenger seat. “I’ve got shotgun.”

Sam pet the dog’s head through the window. She wasn’t a puppy, but seemed full-grown, with short yellow fur—a lab, he thought, but he wasn’t much of an expert.

“Don’t you like dogs?” asked Caitlin.

“Sure. I’ve just never had one before.” It lunged forward and licked him on the nose. 

Caitlin giggled. “She likes you!”

“Her name’s Maddie?”

“Madison, actually. You know, after the president. But I’m calling her Maddie.”

Sam laughed. It was just like Caitlin to name a dog after someone from history. As much as he loved adventures and discovering things from the past, she took things to a whole other level.

Mrs. Murphy drove them to the park along the James River, where Caitlin’s dad was waiting with his pickup truck. “Give me a hand, boys,” he called.

 Sticking out the back of the tailgate was a green fiberglass canoe and an orange kayak. “Sweet,” said Sam, stepping closer.

“Got anything with a motor?” asked Derek as they lifted the boats and set them on the grass next to the parking lot. “Like a Jet Ski, maybe?”

“Sorry, you’ll have to supply the power today,” replied Mr. Murphy.

Maddie leaped into the canoe. She barked and looked out at Caitlin excitedly.

Mrs. Murphy laughed. “I think someone wants to join you.”  

Sam raised his eyebrows. “She’s coming in the boat, too?”

Caitlin turned to her parents. “Can she? It would be fun.”

Mr. Murphy shrugged. “I suppose, if you keep an eye on her. There should be room for her in the canoe there. Labs are natural swimmers, but keep a hold of her leash just in case.”

Caitlin bent down and rubbed the dog’s head playfully. “You’re gonna be a water dog, did you know that girl?”

Maddie immediately barked back her response.

They all helped carry the boats down to the launching dock at the water’s edge. The river was wide, but Sam could barely see a current. 

“River’s on the lower side this time of year,” said Mr. Murphy. “It makes for a great place to paddle.”

Mrs. Murphy checked her watch. “If you three want to take them out for a bit, we’ll get the food ready and eat in a little while.”

“Sam and I can take Maddie in the canoe,” said Caitlin.

“Sounds great,” said Derek, eyeing the kayak. “Prepare to be smoked, Sam.”

Mr. Murphy handed them all life jackets. “Keep these on and stay within view of the park.” He lifted a plastic box with a bungee cord and attached it to a canoe support. “Put your phones in here, it’s waterproof in case you get splashed.”

“Or if Sam falls in,” said Derek.

“More like if you capsize me,” Sam shot back.

“How about you all stay in the boats for now,” said Mrs. Murphy. “We can swim later on.”

Maddie barked and jumped in a circle.

“Looks like she’s ready,” said Sam.

They climbed into the boats and eased out into the river. The canoe was a little tipsier than Sam expected, but Caitlin tightened Maddie’s leash and had her stay between them in the middle. Once he and Caitlin began paddling in the same direction, they made some forward progress.

“This reminds me of riding the tandem bicycle together at Jamestown,” said Caitlin. 

“What’s this remind you of, Sam?” Derek smacked his paddle against the water, sending a large splash Sam’s way. “Eat my spray!” He laughed and raced across the river in the kayak. 

Sam was about to get mad, but the water was warm, and it actually felt good on the hot day.

Caitlin shook her head. “Some things never change.”

Sam tugged on the top strap of his life jacket and nodded at the dog. “She doesn’t need one of these?”

“Maddie, sit,” Caitlin called from the front of the canoe. “No, we’ve brought her to the river a few times already. She loves to swim.”

They paddled ahead, following Derek toward the other shore. Maddie had no interest in sitting in the middle of the canoe. She kept walking back and forth, finally perching herself at the bow like she was the official canine navigator. Sam stared downstream, watching the water turn the corner and continue out of sight. He loved living so close to the water. It was cool to think this was the same river that explorers like John Smith once paddled along as he mapped out the new world for the other European settlers, or that the Indians lived on long before that. 

“Where’s he going?” asked Caitlin, pointing up ahead. The stern of Derek’s kayak disappeared behind a clump of trees.

“Maybe he’ll get lost,” joked Sam. “Permanently.”

“Be nice.”

They paddled closer and noticed a small cut-out that jutted into the trees, revealing a narrow creek. Derek was several yards up ahead, attempting to navigate around a dead tree that had fallen across the water. 

“Watch out for snakes!” Caitlin called. 

Sam peered into the creek, dark and murky. He hated snakes. He hadn’t thought about them being in the water. The banks were layered in dark mud from where the water had surged higher in the spring. 

Maddie placed her front paws on the edge of the canoe and started barking incessantly at the dense grass and trees above the muddy banks on the shore. 

“I think she smells something,” called Derek.

“Maddie, be good,” said Caitlin, just as a giant flap of wings burst from the brush on the creek bank. Sam nearly toppled out of the canoe as a Great Blue Heron rose over their heads. Maddie leaped up, nearly snatching a feather in her teeth as the enormous bird passed right over the canoe. She barked excitedly as the heron vanished into the trees. Then she bounded into the water, her leash trailing behind. 

“Dog overboard!” yelled Derek.

“Maddie!” cried Caitlin. “Come back here!”

The dog paddled the few feet to the shore, scrambled up the bank and disappeared into the bushes. Her bark got quieter as she bolted through the trees in hot pursuit of the bird. 

Caitlin turned in a panic. “Don’t just sit there, Sam. Paddle! We have to go after her.”

Both boats scraped up along the bank, and they hopped onto the soggy ground. Derek helped them pull the bow of the canoe and the kayak higher onto the mud, and they all climbed up the bank, trying not to slip in the mud and fall back into the river.

When they reached the top, there was no more sound of barking. 

“Maddie!” Caitlin called. They listened, but there was nothing.

“I guess we have to go after her,” said Derek, stepping toward the trees.

Sam glanced behind them. “Can we just leave the boats? What about your parents? They told us not to go out of sight.”

Caitlin slid back down the creek bank and retrieved the watertight box. She pulled out her phone and followed Derek into the woods. “I’ll text them what we’re doing. I’m sure she’ll come back. She’s never run off like this before.”

The patch of trees was dense, but narrow, and soon they stepped into a grassy field. 

“Look! There she is!” said Derek, pointing across the field. Railroad tracks crossed from left to right, separating the field from a steep incline. Maddie was already on the other side of the tracks and running up the hill. 

“Maddie come back!” Caitlin yelled again, but they were too far away. Even if the dog heard her, it was clear at this point that she was much more interested in chasing the scent. They jogged across the field and stepped carefully over the tracks. 

Sam peered both directions down the rails, but saw nothing coming. “I wonder if this is the same train we can hear sometimes at night?” 

“Probably,” said Derek, looking over his shoulder as they climbed the hill. “If you went straight across the river, our house is only a few miles from here.”

Maddie was nowhere to be seen, but they’d watched her run up the hill, so they continued through the trees until they reached the edge of a large yard. There were gardens and manicured hedges surrounding a large house with several outbuildings. Part of the main house was white wooden siding with black shutters, while another section was red brick that rose to a tall chimney.  

“I don’t know if we’re supposed to be here,” Sam said. “It’s someone’s yard.”

“I’m going to get you a t-shirt with those words written it so you can stop saying them, Sam,” Derek wisecracked. 

Sam turned his head. “Stop saying what?”

Derek chuckled. “Guys, we’re not supposed to be here.”

Sam shot him a dirty look, but Caitlin waved him off. “We can’t just leave. We have to find Maddie,” she said.

They walked around to the front of the house. A long dirt path led straight to the front porch with tall, stately trees framing each side. It looked old, but well maintained, like it was important. A man came around the corner from the front of the house. He held Maddie on her leash. 

“Looking for someone?” the man asked, smiling. 

“Maddie!” Caitlin exclaimed, rushing over. She bent down and hugged the dog as it licked her face. “Don’t you ever run off like that on me, girl!”

“I guess I don’t have to ask if she’s yours,” the man said, handing over the leash. 

Caitlin stood up. “I’m so sorry about that. Thank you for finding her. I think she still needs some training.”

The man waved his hand. “No worries. A dog like that gets a smell of something, it’s hard to shake ‘em off the trail.” He reached down and scratched her ears. “Her name’s Maddie?”

“Well, Madison, actually,” said Caitlin.

“She named her after the president,” said Sam.

“Is that so?” The man crossed his arms. “Well, that might explain it.”

“Explain what?” asked Derek.

“Why, the reason she ran up here.”

Sam thought he must have missed something. “What are you talking about?”

The man grinned. “Why, you didn’t know you’re on Tuckahoe Plantation?”

“Tuck-a-who?” asked Derek.

Sam knew lots of places around Richmond were named Tuckahoe, but he didn’t know what that would have to do with Caitlin’s dog. Maybe this guy had been out in the sun too long. 

Caitlin stared around the yard, her eyes wide. “This is Tuckahoe Plantation? The Randolph home?”

“That’s right, very good,” said the man. “Since the 1730s.”

Derek frowned. “Randolph? Like Willie Randolph? The guy who played second base for the Yankees?”

Caitlin shook her head. “Sorry, they’re from up north.”

The man laughed. “No, different family, I’m afraid, in quite a few ways, actually. But you might better recognize Tuckahoe as the boyhood home of someone else pretty important.”

“Who’s that?” asked Derek.

“Mr. Thomas Jefferson.”

“Thomas Jefferson!” exclaimed Sam. He glanced down at the dog. Maybe she was smarter than she looked. But he still didn’t know how that made them connected. 

“James Madison was one of Jefferson’s closest friends,” explained Caitlin. “He was kind of his protégé, like how Jefferson was George Wythe’s protégé.”

“Right again,” said the man. “You seem to really know your history, young lady.”

“Sam’s kind of my protégé,” said Derek, “but we’re still working on things.”

Sam scowled. “You wish.”

Caitlin’s phone rang. “Hi, Mom. Yes, sorry, we’re fine. We found her. We’ll be back at the river soon.”

“We should probably get back to our boats,” said Sam.

The man nodded. “Of course. But before you leave, would you like to see the schoolhouse where Mr. Jefferson began his education?”

Sam glanced back down the hill to the river. A few more minutes wouldn’t hurt anything. “Sure.”

The man led them to a white wooden outbuilding next to the house. The small square structure looked more like a shed than a school to Sam.

“This was his school?” asked Derek as they entered the tiny room.

“Many early schools were one-room schoolhouses like this one,” answered the man. “But it must have made a big impression on young Thomas. You may have heard one of his most famous quotations is that he ‘could not live without books.’”

“Wow,” said Caitlin, staring up at the ceiling. It sloped up to a peak above them. “Can you imagine Thomas Jefferson learning how to read right here?”

Derek sighed. “Not really. It’s summer. I don’t want to think about school.”

The man chuckled. “I don’t blame you, son. I’ll let ya’ll get back to the water.” He led them back outside. “But you better watch out, that dog might just swim all the way downriver to the capitol building. Jefferson designed that as well, you know. Just watch out for the Class 5 rapids, you don’t want to hit those.”

Derek’s eyes lit up. “Really?”

Sam punched him in the shoulder. “Forget about it.”

“I think we’ll stick to the flat water,” said Caitlin.

“Thanks for the tour,” said Sam. 

Caitlin tugged firmly the leash. “Come on, Miss Madison. You’re staying close to us this time.”

Wandering through the cemetery in Richmond’s St. John’s Church, one can discover a lot of history amongst the faded old grave markers. The church itself dates back to 1741 and sits in the Church Hill section of Richmond, the original footprint of the city. Its claim to fame, and the likely reason for its survival and current status as a National Historic Landmark, is that it housed the Second Virginia Convention on the cusp of America’s Revolution. There, Patrick Henry delivered his passionate ‘Give me liberty or give me death’ speech that moved the representatives of Virginia to soon join the war effort that would give rise to a young nation. The church boasts the graves of several notables including Edgar Allen Poe’s mother, two Virginia governors, and a man named George Wythe.

Born in 1726 in Chesterville, Virginia, Wythe (pronounced like Smith), became one of our most significant, if often forgotten, founding fathers. Before resting in the shadow of St. John’s, Wythe rose to prominence as a lawyer, teacher and thinker. He was the country’s first professor of law at Williamsburg’s College of William and Mary, teaching the likes of Thomas Jefferson, John Marshall and Henry Clay. “No man ever left behind him a character more venerated than George Wythe,” said Thomas Jefferson. “His virtue was of the purest tint, his integrity inflexible, and his justice exact; of warm patriotism, and, devoted as he was to liberty, and the natural and equal rights of man, he might truly be called the Cato of his country.”

Respected by his peers for his virtue and integrity, Wythe is the first signature from the Virginia delegation on the Declaration of Independence. So revered was Wythe, that despite being absent when the final engrossed copy of the Declaration was signed, his fellow Virginians left a space so that he could sign above them. Wythe was known as Virginia’s foremost classical scholar, the dean of its lawyers, a Williamsburg alderman and mayor, member of the House of Burgesses, framer of our federal constitution, and one of two men who designed the Virginia Seal.

Wythe’s home has been preserved as a museum in Colonial Williamsburg and is open to visitors for tours. After his wife, Elizabeth, died in 1787, George moved to Richmond, where he later died amongst scandal in 1806 at the age of eighty. His grandnephew, George Wythe Sweeney, was accused of poisoning the old man with arsenic in an attempt to expedite his inheritance. Wythe is believed to have uttered to his doctor at his bedside, “I am murdered…” Although Sweeney was acquitted at trial, he escaped largely on a technicality since the only witness to the poisoning was a black cook who at the time was not allowed to testify in the courts. Sweeney moved to Tennessee, but little is known of his whereabouts afterwards. George Wythe left his large library to his friend and student, Thomas Jefferson, who was President of the young nation at the time of Wythe’s death. Tragically, word of Wythe’s illness did not reach President Jefferson until four days after Wythe’s death. Wythe’s funeral was the largest in Virginia history at the time.

In my middle-grade children’s book, Mystery on Church Hill, brothers Sam and Derek learn all about Mr. Wythe, Patrick Henry, and Thomas Jefferson when they discover a fictional lost letter beneath the floorboards at St. John’s Church. Soon they’re entangled in a mystery started by the “ne’er-do-well” Mr. Sweeney, and are racing a Patrick Henry reenactment actor named Jerry all the way to the Wythe House in Williamsburg to find a hidden early copy of the Declaration of Independence.

Wythe appealed to me as a central figure through the amazing events and personalities that surrounded him in real life. Mentor to some of our greatest leaders, founder of our country and murdered in scandal, it doesn’t take much imagination to fill in some fun details. By combining key elements of historical facts and personalities with some made-up excitement and intrigue, the book melds fun  into learning for young readers. I hope that the story will inspire kids to learn more about these important people and events, visit St. John’s Church and the Wythe House in Williamsburg, and make our history come alive a bit more that it did before.

Mystery on Church Hill is available in the St. John’s Church Gift Shop, the Colonial Williamsburg Visitor’s Center bookstore, online in print and Kindle at Amazon and B&N, or many Richmond locations.