Page 26 of The Women of Oak Ridge
CHAPTER NINE:LAUREL
JONAS TURNED OUTto be a knowledgeable tour guide.
He first drove through town, pointing out interesting landmarks and World War II-era buildings that had been repurposed into offices and other uses.
“Growing up here,” he said, “I didn’t fully appreciate the history that surrounded me every day.”
We sat in rocking chairs on the long front porch of what was once the Guest House during the war. Now the Alexander Motor Inn, I couldn’t help but imagine the various Manhattan Project VIPs who’d stayed in the two-story lodge, sitting on this very porch, looking out over the secret town. People like General Groves, Secretary of War Henry Stimson, and famous physicist and project scientist J.Robert Oppenheimer, none of whom used their real names when they signed the guest register. Even physicist Enrico Fermi, the man credited with building the first nuclear reactor, went by the alias “Mr. Farmer” during his stay at the Guest House.
“I imagine most of us take for granted what we see every day. The familiar doesn’t usually leave a lasting impression on us.” I pointed to the tennis courts just down the hill from the inn. “I read that dances were held there when the courts weren’t being used for tennis. That sounds fun, dancing under the stars of a summer sky to Big Band music.”
His brow rose. “So, you’re a romantic, not just an academic.”
I chuckled. “Maybe. I do appreciate the fact that young people like Aunt Mae, Georgeanne, and your parents had opportunities to relax and enjoy themselves despite the important work that was going on here. That must have helped them cope with being so far away from family.”
“Isolation and secrecy were both hard to deal with, according to Mom,” he said. “She tells the story about a letter she received from her parents after she’d been in Oak Ridge a few months. My grandmother told her not to write to them anymore, because all of Mom’s letters were full of blacked-out words and sentences. Grandma couldn’t make sense out of anything Mom had written. The people who censored the mail took their jobs seriously.”
“Your dad said he met your mom at a dance.”
He nodded. “Would you like to walk over to Chapel on the Hill? That’s where they were married in 1946.”
We stepped off the front porch and made our way around to the back of the inn. A small, white chapel with a steeple sat at the top of a hill, overlooking the town.
“In the early days of Oak Ridge,” Jonas said, “there wasn’t any place for people to hold a church service. Some congregations met in the cafeteria or rec centers until this chapel was built.”
We climbed the steps to a covered entry. Jonas tried the door and found it unlocked, and we went inside. The stillness of the place felt peaceful.
“It’s a standard military chapel.” Jonas’s voice echoed in thesmall building. “All denominations used it. Baptists, Methodists, Catholics. Mom says a good number of couples were married here during the war.”
I moved up the aisle while Jonas remained near the door.
Wooden pews sat in rows on either side of me, and warm sunshine spilled through windows that lined the room. I closed my eyes and could almost hear the old-timey hymns and sermons that filled this quaint church back in the 1940s. I wondered if Aunt Mae ever attended services here. According to Dad, she was quite active in her church nowadays.
We left the chapel and got back into the Bronco. Our next tour stop was the Y-12 plant site where Georgeanne and Jonas’s mother worked, but because it was still in operation as a national laboratory, we didn’t try to enter through the highly guarded gate.
“If you’re interested, we can grab lunch at Big Ed’s.” Jonas grinned. “They’re known for having the best pizza pies in town.”
I glanced at my watch. It was already after one o’clock. “I really should get back and check on Aunt Mae. She wasn’t feeling well this morning.”
He seemed a little disappointed, which surprised me. “I’m sorry to hear that. I thought we could drive out to K-25 after lunch. We can’t go inside, but I can get us onto the site. You really should see how gigantic the building is.” The corner of his mouth lifted. “Besides, I’ve enjoyed being your tour guide today.”
I’d liked his company too. “I do want to see the plant where Aunt Mae worked.”
“Are you free tomorrow afternoon, say around three o’clock?”
“I hate to take up more of your time.”
He gave a nonchalant shrug. “Like I said, it was nice revisiting Oak Ridge’s history with you today. I’m reminded of why our little town is so special.”
“Then I’ll take you up on your offer,” I said, unexpectedlypleased with the prospect of being with him again the following day.
When we arrived at Elliot’s house, I declined Jonas’s invitation to come inside. “Thank you for taking time to show me around. If you ever decide to leave the police department, you could give tours of Oak Ridge.”
He laughed. “I think I’d rather catch bad guys, but I’ll keep it in mind.”
He waited while I climbed into my car and backed out of the driveway. With a wave, I headed to Aunt Mae’s, quite satisfied with how things had turned out. Jonas was easy to talk to once he let down his police detective persona. I’d learned many interesting things about Oak Ridge that weren’t found in the history books.
Aunt Mae sat in the shade of the porch when I pulled into the driveway. Another woman was with her. They both stood when I exited the car and approached.
