JAMES WHITEHEAD October 3, 1996 — Mame Warren, interviewer Warren: This is Mame Warren. Today is the 3rd of October, 1996. I am in Lexington, Virginia with James Whitehead. I was talking to our old friend Frank Parsons this morning, who says that you're P.T. Barnum himself. Whitehead: I’m glad to think Frank thinks that highly of me. Warren: Well, I’m pretty impressed by that. But I’d like to skip back to the beginning and find out why you came to Lexington in the first place. What was the attraction of Lexington? Whitehead: My family and I lived in New York. I was associated with a group of fine independent colleges in the state of New York, twenty-three, I believe, liberal arts colleges, that banded together to seek funds for support from business and industry back in the mid ’50s. It was a wonderful opportunity to observe the various fine small colleges in the state of New York, all the way from the city, out to the western side at Alfred, near Buffalo, and in Buffalo there were colleges. I had in my group Barnard and Sarah Lawrence and St. Lawrence and Vassar and Hamilton, Colgate and then Alfred, as I said. It was just a good group of colleges and I enjoyed working with them, but with a growing family and two small sons, I left Long Island on the Long Island Railroad every morning before daylight and I returned every evening after dark, and I only saw my children in pajamas, and I decided this was no way to raise a family. 1 A good friend of Washington and Lee had met me at one of the association meetings. I was with the Empire State Foundation For Liberal Arts Colleges and Lea Booth in Lynchburg and I became friends, and Lea evidently mentioned my name to the president then, Dr. Gaines, and to a member of the board of trustees who, fortunately for me, was a friend of the family. I was interviewed in New York to see if I knew anyone that might be interested in coming to Washington and Lee. That was the way it was approached. Then I had an invitation from Dr. Gaines, the president, to come down. I returned to New York, and I can recall it vividly, talking to Celeste and she wanted, of course, to know what I felt about it, and I said, "I think it’s a wonderful, wonderful institution." She said, "Well, what would be your job?" I said, "I don’t know." She said, "Well, what would be your salary?" I said, "I do not know, but if I’m offered the job I’m going no matter what it is." And I’ve never looked back. We’ve never looked back. It was the one decision in my life that was absolutely perfect. So that’s it, that’s why I came to Lexington. I came down by railroad at the time, not by plane, but by a great train that came into Buena Vista. Arrived in the morning after having breakfast somewhere in the valley along the mountains, with starched white tablecloths and silver and crystal, and reaching Buena Vista and then being met by the then alumni secretary, Cy Young, that I had known previously. I came to the campus and met Dr. Gaines and Mrs. Gaines at a luncheon in their home and I felt that I had returned to certainly the nineteenth century. The Lee House was decorated as it had been for many, many years, in a manner that was just absolutely perfect for the period. We had midday meal, which they called dinner and I called lunch at the time. It was a dinner in the dining room, with Gardner Henderson serving and Alice Ware in the kitchen cooking. It was just a superb 2 introduction to Lexington. Dr. Gaines never mentioned the job, nothing about it at all. I had a tour of the campus and stayed at the Robert E. Lee Hotel, and in those days it was quite a nice establishment. The next morning I got on the train and went back to New York, or the next evening I went back to New York. So that was the beginning. Warren: Did anyone ever mention the job? Whitehead: Oh, no, no. Certainly, I knew it had to be in fund-raising because the gentleman that had interviewed me in New York was Christopher Chenery, the owner of Secretariat, he was on the Board of Trustees at the time. And he wanted to know if I knew someone that might be interested in the job of fund-raising at Washington and Lee, and I named a few people that were connected with the colleges that I knew, but all the time I sat there I couldn’t help but wonder if this what I had been looking for, although I didn’t give him my name. Then it was shortly after that that Dr. Gaines called me. I had a very good family friend through my wife’s family, Mr. Lykes, who was on the Board of Trustees, and evidently Mr. Chenery checked with him. So we arrived in Lexington. I came down in May, and Celeste and the boys came down in June. That was in 1958, so it goes back a few years. Warren: Describe what Lexington was like when you got there. Whitehead: I will say this, coming out of New York City and directly into Lexington, it probably looked far grander because of the great contrast than it was at the time, because a great deal of work has happened in terms of sprucing up Lexington. The downtown area where the present restaurant, the White Columns [Willson-Walker House], that entire street was really not in a state of decay, but it would soon reach that stage. The hotel across the street that now is the inn, the Withrow House, all of those places, that would have been the slums of Lexington. That didn’t seem to have any impression on me at the time. 3 I stayed at the Robert E. Lee Hotel, as I said, and that was a very nice experience. I don’t remember much more than that, other than when I came here, I saw the green grass on the front of the campus, on the lawn in front of the Colonnade, and I felt that here was a place where the grass was greener. It really was, and it’s always been that way in my mind, it’s always been greener there than anyplace else. So I really can’t tell you much more than that about Lexington. The great contrast with New York came to my family when my wife and I, and my wife especially, had to transport the children to school, to the movies, to get a haircut. They were never out of our sight, and here they could walk up and down the street, they could go to a ball game, they could do most anything on their own. That was quite a contrast. So I guess that had a great deal to do with wanting to come to a small community. We’d go back, and certainly that’s always nice, but never have I ever regretted the move. The people were wonderful, the administration was quite small, and I say the administrative staff was quite small, the president, the dean of students and the treasurer, and there was a dean of the School of Law and a dean of the School of Commerce, and that was it. There was no other—that was the administrative offices at the time. They were all very kind to us. Really, in the case of Mr. Mattingly, who was a bachelor, he more or less adopted us and looked after us when we came here, saw to it that we met people and were involved in a level of the community that would have been not possible in most places. Warren: Tell me about Mr. Mattingly. Whitehead: I had a feeling you wouldn’t be interviewing me if you weren’t interested in Mr. Mattingly. Mr. Mattingly. I’m trying to think. The first time I saw him was the day I came down to be interviewed, and Mr. Young took me into Mr. Mattingly’s office. Their offices were across the hall from each other. He had on a gray suit, he was bald. At the time I had hair, but since then that’s gone; I understand. He had on the finest 4 tailored suit. He loved to go to a tailor for his clothes to be made, rather than buying anything off the rack, the proper tie, starched shirt. He sat behind that desk and he was very, very cordial and cold. He didn’t, I think, want to think that he in any way felt that I was right for the position until he was sure of it, but he was nice, but cold. Then when I accepted the job and came down, he came to see us in the house that we were living in during the summer while we were searching for a home, and took us for a ride around Lexington and told us, I guess, the occupants of at least 75 percent of the houses of Lexington he knew who lived there. He pointed with pride at some that the university had the mortgage on, places that he had an interest in and had loaned the money for. So when it came time for us to settle in at a place, Celeste and I found a house, it was five miles outside of Lexington, at the, I guess you’d call it, convergence of Buffalo Creek and another creek, a small house built in the 1700s that had been unoccupied for a time, that we just felt was just perfect, we would love to restore it and had all the details. I came in to see Mr. Mattingly and I told him we’d found just the place we wanted. "I will not let you take your wife into that area that far away from town with two boys," he said. "I will not approve any loan for that house." Well, that was our first, really, time to see another side of Mr. Mattingly and I felt badly about it. Then started looking further, and the longer we lived here, we knew he was absolutely right. Five miles on Long Island when I commuted three hours every day seemed like around the corner, but to leave Celeste, and the fact that I traveled, out there in the woods really would not have been the right thing to do. Since then the house has been bought and beautifully restored by a couple here in Lexington and now is in the hands of a W&L alumnus that appreciated the beauty of that period and that old house. So that was another experience with him. We then became great friends over the years. He never ate a meal in his little house over here. Next to the Mattingly house is a little white three-sectioned house, and 5 it’s where he lived, and he rented two sections and he lived in the other. But he never ate at home, he was always out every night for his meals. He would go over to what we call the Co-op and have his breakfast and then walk somewhere. But at night he was usually invited to someone’s home. In those days, there was more of that than there is now. People entertained in their homes; they didn’t go out. Then periodically he would repay by taking his guests out sometimes to the Southern Inn—well, sometimes the Southern Inn, mainly the Virginia House, where he would order steaks for them and repay his debt that way. But I guess he was at our house at least three times a week. We remained friends, and he was a good friend. He loved Washington and Lee. He was very careful with Washington and Lee’s money, but liberal with his own. That was just his nature. He’d come here on a scholarship after being at, I guess it was at Front Royal Military Academy, had to work every day of his life to sustain himself while he was here. Then after he finished W&L, he, at some period, I don’t know when, was here as registrar and then became assistant to the treasurer and then treasurer of the university. I knew him, I did not know him in these other capacities, but I’ve had many alumni tell me as I traveled around the country, first in fund-raising and then in public relations with the Reeves Center, that Mr. Mattingly had seen them through this university in one way or another. So he should be recognized as a true friend of the college. He was a good friend to Mrs. duPont, squired her when she was in town, and that was his big social. Those were the social events of the season when she came to town. Warren: I understand that you were quite good at courting the ladies, too. Whitehead: Well, I learned. I don’t deny that. I don’t know that I would call it courting. I know I’ve had the good fortune of meeting some very nice ladies and I’ve certainly 6 enjoyed their company, but it’s company that has included my family. I was just not out running around. Mr. Mattingly was a bachelor, he could do things that I shouldn’t do. Warren: That’s one of the things that I’ve become most intrigued with, is the relationship of these ladies who have been so generous to Washington and Lee, and I figured somebody was courting them in some way. Whitehead: That’s right. Warren: I’d like to know more about that. Whitehead: Well, I call them angels. I really do. This university has been fortunate in developing over a period of time friendships with ladies, and I’ve had the good fortune of being a part of some of that. But if you look around this campus, you’ll find that there are a number of buildings that carry the names of these ladies. Fairfax Lounge over in the Student Center, that center developed. There was a dining hall and then the building that’s on the corner which was there, but that became joined and became a student union complex and that was made possible by a lady from Roanoke, Virginia, by the name of Ms. Ronald Fairfax. I would certainly give Mr. Mattingly the credit for taking care of that particular lady over the years, although we had the good fortune of getting to meet her and being with her a number times before she died. But she thought a lot of Mr. Mattingly. She thought a lot of men, not just Mr. Mattingly. She was always the lady that wore a tiara at the symphony ball in Roanoke, and she was always squired by a number of gentlemen, always in white tie and tails when these events would happen, and Mr. Mattingly was always a part of it. I think he died before Mrs. Fairfax. But in any event, we went to see her shortly before she died, and she said she had to get to Washington because she wanted to change her will. We had no idea why she was doing this. But anyway, arrangements were made for an ambulance. In those days, ambulances don’t look like these first-aid things now, they were just sort of limousines with some cot in them or something. But anyway, she had this limousine 7 pick her up at the Hotel Roanoke in Roanoke, and she was driven to Washington, where she signed and had her lawyer change her will. I don’t know that her will before she changed it, I’m sure it included Washington and Lee, there’s no question about that, but I think we did benefit from the change. But she was going to give, through her will, a major bequest to one of her male friends who ran the Barter Theater in Abingdon. I don’t know if you’ve ever heard of the Barter Theater, but it’s quite an institution in the state of Virginia. And he was the director of it, and he’d been no different than Mr. Mattingly in his attention to Mrs. Fairfax, but she appreciated it. Well, just after she became ill, she learned that he had married, and she had to get to Washington to take him out of her will, and she did. His name was Bob Porterfield. He was quite a character in the state of Virginia. Another lady, Mrs. duPont, that you’ve heard about from numbers of people, all coming in at different directions. We met Mrs. duPont when she came down for a visit, and Mr. Mattingly, quite nervous always when she was in town or learning that she was coming, asked us—well, he didn’t ask, it was almost a command performance, said that Mrs. duPont would be here and that the schedule was, and he told me what the schedule was, and he said that they’d have dinner at Dr. and Mrs. Gaines’ home and then they were going down to what was then the Troubadour Theater. After the Troubadour Theater he thought it would be nice if they stopped by our house and had a glass of brandy after dinner. That’s fine. You’ve heard this story from others, but anyway. They arrived at our house, and here are our two young boys, we sent them to the top of the staircase to the second floor because this had to be so right. I had bought some proper brandy that Mr. Mattingly felt that she would like, and I forget what I bought for the Gaineses. But in any event, it had been a cold night and they arrived, and so I met them at the door of this big old house that we lived in here on Main Street, and 8 Mrs. duPont was, well, spectacular in her appearance at that age. I mean, she must have been in her early eighties, seventies or early eighties, and to describe her would be to say that she—all that I can remember was all the net and lace that she seemed to be enfolded in, and great big orchids and her hair high on her head and all of the pearls and everything, It really was a spectacular sight. It was obvious that she was a lady of means, there was no question about that. Well, they came in and we ushered them into the living room. We were nervous, the boys were hanging over the banister upstairs seeing what this lady—and Mrs. duPont said to Celeste, "Mrs. Whitehead, may I retire to your"—I don’t know what you call it, powder room or whatever. Well, this house had not had—well, it had plumbing put in it, I guess, in the 1910s or twenties, but anyway, it was down a long hall and these heavy walnut doors, magnificent doors, opened into this little bathroom, and it was used as a guest bathroom. I mean, that was because it was not used by anybody else. So she goes in and closes the door while I go back up to the living room, and Celeste is up—I’m in the living room with the Gaineses and Mr. Mattingly. Celeste comes in, and Mr. Mattingly said, "Do you think everything’s going all right? Do you think she’s having a nice time?" Dr. and Mrs. Gaines were by this time were feeling real good, and everybody agreed that Mrs. duPont was having a great time. Well, then I heard the door, it sounded like a banging on the door and I thought, oh, my gosh. The poor lady, in pulling the door to, it had these antique locks on it, it was awfully hard to turn, they were porcelain knobs, but the locks were quite old. She was in that room and couldn’t get out. So I got back there and I said, "Just a moment, Mrs. duPont." I turned the handle and opened the door, and there stood Mrs. duPont. Her hair now had come all the way down, all the lace and the net or whatever it was that surrounded her was drooped 9 down, the orchids were dangling. And I thought, my God, what in the world had happened. It turned it out that, you may have seen these, but you’re too young maybe to have seen it, that above the commode there was a five-gallon container that when you pulled the chain, water would come down and flush the commode. In this case, it didn’t work and all the water came out over the top and right onto Mrs. duPont, Washington and Lee’s greatest benefactress, and here we were trying to make an impression. She didn’t say a word, she was just the lady that she was, walked right back to the living room, sat down with Mattingly, and I don’t know that Dr. Gaines and Mrs. Gaines really saw what he saw or what we saw, they did, but it wouldn’t have mattered. She had her brandy and sat there wringing wet. And that was the entrance to my fund- raising at Washington and Lee. That was my first attempt. So that’s Mrs. duPont, a great lady. Warren: Well, now, wait a minute, let’s finish up with Mrs. duPont. What then happened? I mean, we do have a duPont Hall. It couldn’t have been too much of a disaster. Whitehead: No, the duPont Hall was not named for Mrs. duPont. It was for another member of the duPont family, it was a duPont connection, but it was not named for Mrs.—as far as I know, Ms. Warren, it was not named for our Mrs. duPont, Mrs. Alfred I. duPont. I don’t know how I could find that out. Oh, well, it can be found out. Frank should know that. But I don’t think it was Mrs. Alfred I. duPont. I think it was a duPont—may have been from Mr. duPont, but it was not named for Mrs. duPont. Evans Hall was named for Mrs. Letitia Pate Whitehead Evans. It was the Whitehead money and not the Evans money that made that building possible, Coca- Cola money. She was a great friend of Dr. Gaines, and I had the opportunity of meeting her just once over at the Hot Springs. She had a great mansion. It was a mansion. It was called the Pink House, a big colonial mansion. When she was ill, Dr. Gaines would go 10 over and read poetry to her. She was a great friend, so when she died, the gift came to the university, was made possible—well, its funds held in trust by others, but it’s a magnificent bequest and was at the time and therefore Evans Hall was named for this lady. She would give Dr. Gaines a gift every time he would go there, one sort of another. One time he came back and he said, "This is for my boys’ tennis courts," and he would be able to build tennis courts. But he was great, he was just a—oh, what a great gentleman. Warren: Let’s talk about— Whitehead: The ladies? Warren: Well, no, let’s talk about President Gaines for a minute. Whitehead: All right. Warren: He was still president when you came? Whitehead: He was. He was president for one year, but traveled with me on a fund- raising campaign for the next couple of years, I guess. Warren: Really? Whitehead: Yes. Warren: After he had retired? Whitehead: After he had retired. He went around to alumni meetings and spoke. Warren: I didn’t know that. Whitehead: I heard the same speech maybe forty times, and I can honestly say that there was not a time that I heard it that it just didn’t—it lifted me out of my chair every time I heard him. He was so good. He was an orator. He could make you cry one minute and you’d be laughing the next. He was so—he was just an orator of the old school. You don’t find—I don’t know any now quite like Dr. Gaines, but he was something else. 11 He made friendships with people across this nation and mainly a great number of them during World War II when he was assisting in the selling of war bonds across the country. But he could inspire people to do most anything he wanted them to do. He was not well when I came here, and that did not improve. He had cirrhosis of the liver and that had probably been brought on by an excess of alumni meetings and social events where he was a member of the party. But anyway, he made a great contribution and some of the success, I truly believe, of what we’ve seen in subsequent development drives can be tied back to Dr. Gaines. You can do a lot of fund-raising, but it does not necessarily come to fruition while the campaign is going on, and there are people that are fund-raising that don’t even know that they’re fund-raising, that are responsible for gifts down the road. So I like to give credit back to people that have made a contribution, and he certainly did, to this institution. Warren: It’s certainly coming out in the interviews. Whitehead: Is that right? You feel that? Warren: Oh, yes. People talk about him and they nod their heads when they say his name. Warren: That’s right? He had a summer place out in the country called Penn Robin, and that’s where Mrs. Gaines grew these magnificent gladiolas. A car would pull up at the house, Gardener, the chauffeur who had been the waiter at their home and also the butler, a man that seldom left Dr. Gaines, would bring in these beautiful bouquets of flowers. He and Mrs. Gaines knew the names of all the children of the faculty members. They were just phenomenal when it came to making it a family, giving you a sense of family as it related to the university. Some people don’t believe in that, and it’s not possible as you get larger and grow, but there can be an attempt at it. You don’t have to just not do something because you become large. That’s not a reflection on anybody 12 here or any one person, but I think there is a tendency to think that the larger you get, that you don’t have to do some of those things. It means a lot to the people that work there. Salaries were not great, but there were other benefits that offset that, that money could not necessarily buy. Warren: What kind of benefits? Whitehead: The feeling of belonging, the feeling of knowing that there was somebody that cared enough for you that if anything happened, they would be right at your side. I’ll tell you something that I’ve learned of my own situation. I never would bring this into the conversation, but it relates to what your question has led me down the road to whatever. My son was a W&L graduate, Jim, and was a Navy pilot and then became a banker in Texas, and seven years ago he had a massive stroke that left him in a coma for over three years, but completely paralyzed, he can only use two fingers. He knows what’s going on, we know it, but he cannot communicate because it was a head injury and there was brain damage. Okay. He worked for a small bank in Texas that he helped get established and he worked for these people. When Jim had the stroke seven years ago, this group of people that he worked with, including the man with the major portion of the funds that were in the bank, really acted as though he was one of their own members of their own family. From that day to—where was I, in Washington over the weekend, from that day to this, there has never been a quarter, in terms of time, that there’s not been contact between that bank and our son in some way, some form. They come to see him, they send various people up, they’ll send a computer if they think it will help Jim. This is what I’m talking about, the family. They’re small and they’re remaining small, but he is still a part of it. They’ve named a room in their new headquarters building that’s an exact replica of Monticello. In fact, Dan Jourden [phonetic], who is the director of Monticello, is speaking there today. 13 But that’s the way it was with Washington and Lee, and that’s what I meant by a feeling of family. I see Washington and Lee now because I am at the nursing home and there are some W&L people there or connected with the nursing home. There is a sense of family. There’s an outpouring, I think, at Washington and Lee when tragedy strikes or when someone becomes ill in one way or another, but that begins to decrease in time and suddenly you’ll have a professor at Washington and Lee that was highly regarded sitting in the nursing home and nobody coming to see him, unless it happens to be an alumnus that thought a lot of him and they’ll come over. That’s true in families. Families tend to forget the parents or grandparents. I don’t mean totally forget them, they’ll send them a card or they’ll come by to see them and bring them a flower now and then, but how it decreases. That was what Washington and Lee was when I came here in ’58. I truly—don’t get me wrong, I can’t believe it could continue because I was treasurer here, I served in several capacities and I know in my own case I think back to what I could have done that I did not do for some of these people that had one sort of tragedy or another, but it was not that way when Gaines was here. Dr. Cole, who followed him, was another personality. Dr. Cole was a very reserved, private person, so you didn’t see that same thing, although they tried awful hard to—I don’t know if they did or not, I mean, I don’t know that they understood that either, what it had been like. But I do think that— Warren: They, the Coles? Whitehead: Yes. But I do think it was such a shock to the alumni and to the Washington and Lee family that knew, and were part of the Gaines’ period, that they just didn’t quite understand President Cole. Yet I don’t think we’ve ever had a better president. He was just absolutely—he was a scholar, he was a gentleman, and a man I respected for his talent. I really did. Not in the same category that I admired Dr. Gaines, but I certainly admired this man. I thought he was excellent. 14 Warren: Well, I’ve wondered about that. Just looking at the number of years, it seems like to most people Dr. Gaines must have been here forever. Whitehead: That’s right. Warren: Then it seems like those shoes must have been awfully big to fill. Whitehead: They were. They’d be awfully hard. [Laughter] Mr. Mattingly was the first one to—I don’t mean suffer the change, but to sense the change. Dr. Gaines was here for thirty some-odd years and just like a father or brother, depending on your age. Dr. Cole comes in, and, as I say, a very private person, and coming here from a large institution, Tulane, living in an atmosphere totally different than Lexington, Virginia. If there was a comparison, I guess, New York would be one place and New Orleans would be another that would be poles apart from Lexington. Well, Mr. Mattingly was the first one to become close to the Coles, because he had to work with Mrs. Cole, as well as Dr. Cole, and he was not accustomed to this kind of thing. The house that the Gaines lived in, the Lee House, it would be in terms of, as I remember, as close to being something that Faulkner would have written about. If you had walked into it, you were definitely in the Deep South. There were fringe on all of the lamps and there was never highly lighted. It was a genteel poverty. That’s a cliché, but it really was. I mean, everything was fine, but it was getting old and worn out and nobody cared. Also when Mrs. Cole, from New Orleans, comes with her decorator, this was a shock to Mr. Mattingly because all of a sudden they were putting drapes up that cost as much as the Gaines had spent probably for furnishings in their entire tenure at Washington and Lee. Then she wanted to make some structural changes. She is the lady that had the dining room where Lee died, the alcove where Lee died, opened so it gave flow that you could escape. Because these parties and alumni weekends, you got into the dining room and living room and you were just like being at Grand Central at rush hour. So she had that done. 15 Well, all of this, to Mattingly, was just sinful. It was just sinful. They had the first air-conditioned car, and it was a Lincoln, and this was another thing that bothered Mr. Mattingly. Here he was at General Lee’s institution, but Dr. Cole had been with the Ford Foundation, had done work for them, and so they had probably gave the car to Dr. Cole. I don’t know. But anyway, it caused Mr. Mattingly some concern. Yet it was Dr. Cole, the association with the Ford Motor Company people, that brought about the restoration of Lee Chapel in the early 1960s. So that first restoration of the chapel can be attributed to Dr. Cole’s connections. Of course, there were other people that worked on it, too. I worked on it. Warren: I was about to say, you must have gotten involved. Whitehead: Benson Ford, one of the Ford brothers, happened to be a friend of mine, and he came down for the dedication. So it didn’t hurt to have these contacts. I had met him when I was working with the National Conference of Christians and Jews in New York, when I first went to New York, and he led a national campaign along with his brother, Henry. I worked in Detroit every week for two years. But Dr. Cole had truly brought it about. Warren: Let me ask you about that. I’ve seen a photograph of the work done on Lee Chapel then, and the roof is gone. Whitehead: They took it apart, yes. It was absolutely gutted. Warren: What did they do? Describe what was done. Whitehead: Well, I can’t do it as well as Pat Brady, who was the superintendent of buildings at the time, but it was not safe to be in there, in that chapel, and the balconies all had to be rebuilt and support beams of steel put in so it would be safe and air- conditioning, and all the mechanical things had to be done. But do that they had to take the roof off, shore up all of the brickwork. The crypt, as such, was not changed, but the greatest improvement in that area was the fact that they put marble slabs over all of the vacant slots so when you walk in you just didn’t see these places waiting for someone to 16 be placed. Now we take them out and then put someone in, but at first those were all open slots and you’d count and you’d say, well, they’ll be able to take ten more, or thirteen more or something like that. But it was, it really was. There was a fire there, I’ll never forget, during the restoration, and if that had really gotten out of control, there would have been—there was paint cans that had been stored in the basement while they were working, and I don’t if it was a spark or what caused it, but it caught on fire. The fire department was able to extinguish it without causing the building any damage. But that’s while it was still pretty much under construction. Warren: I’ve never heard that. Whitehead: Yeah, there was a fire in there. Warren: I need to turn the tape over. Whitehead: Okay.