In a city full of monuments and memorials like Washington, not all of them can be beautiful. Exhibit A: The Temperance Fountain at Seventh Street and Indiana Avenue, NW. So how did we come in possession of this strange piece of public art?
In the 1920s, a group of D.C. women formed the Anti-Flirt Club to put a stop to the increasingly annoying, and at times dangerous, problem of men harassing women from motor vehicles and street corners.
In the early 1990s, the Smithsonian found itself embroiled in national controversy over one of its planned exhibitions, making enemies of newspapers, veterans groups, and even Congress. What was the right way to display the plane that dropped the atomic bomb?
Long before D.C. baseball fans started cheering for the Nationals, D.C. came close to landing a different MLB franchise — The San Diego Padres. Jerseys were printed, schedules were made, and the team was nearly moved, but a last minute deal kept them in San Diego, beginning a 33-year baseball drought in D.C.
Though the AIDS epidemic had been raging for nearly a decade, by 1988, the FDA had only cleared a single drug to treat it. Frustrated with what they considered a deadly lack of initiative, AIDS patients, community activists, friends, and family marched to the FDA's headquarters in Rockville to demand more treatments, more urgency, and more understanding.
As the British marched on Washington during the War of 1812, government clerks scrambled to hide the nation's precious documents. According to legend, the Constitution, Declaration of Independence and Bill of Rights ended up in the cellar of Rokeby, a mansion outside of Leesburg, Virginia where they were guarded by a local minister. But is the legend true?
In 1982, as federal funding for the arts faced cuts, a multiracial women's coalition in D.C. created Sisterfire, a women's festival. What began as a one-day event quickly grew into an annual celebration of women artists.
A nefarious plot against one of Washington's most beloved landmarks was unfolding in the spring of 1999. On April 1st, an attacker moved quickly when no one was around, and chopped down one of the Cherry Trees along the Tidal Basin. This was no April Fools Day joke.
In 1860, a 21 year old man named Edward Payson Weston made a wild bet: if Abraham Lincoln won the presidential election, he would walk the nearly 500 miles from Boston to Washington, D.C. This wager, initially a joke between two friends, turned into a real challenge that would spark national headlines and launch a new kind of celebrity.
In the spring of 1936, three torrential rainstorms, caused floodwaters to run straight off the Appalachian Mountains and into the Potomac. The swollen river rose over 30 feet in some places, submerging towns, and tearing bridges off their foundations. As reports of the devastation come from all across the Northeast, Washington, D.C. scrambled to defend itself.
Jerry Smith was a record setting tight end for the (then) Washington Redskins from 1965 - 1977. In 1986, Smith also became the first professional athlete to announce he was suffering from acquired immunodeficiency syndrome, better known as AIDS. Smith’s decision to reveal his diagnosis did not come easy, nor did being a closeted gay player in an era when opening up about one’s sexuality could risk losing everything.
In the fall of 2000, D.C. resident Mark Meinke was working on a book about drag performers when he ran into a huge roadblock: there were no archives covering the history of his research subject or the District’s large and vibrant LGBTQIA+ community. “D.C., unlike other Gay centers, has no available and accessible community memory or archives,” he wrote in the Washington Blade. So, he did something about it.
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