Our next stop was the gunsmith's shop. Those of you who've been with us since the beginning remember my review of The Gunsmith of Williamsburg.  I'd been waiting almost twenty years for this moment.  Although I harbored no illusions about actually getting a chance to meet the fabled Wallace Gusler, stranger things have happened.  So it was with no small amount of trepidation we approached the door of the gunsmith's shop. Once inside it was as if I already knew the shop like an apprentice.  There was the rifling machine on the right doing double duty as shop tool and room divider.  Behind it was a large window surrounded by tools hanging in their racks, on shelves, and hanging from pegs.  On the back wall, high and to the right of a door leading into another workroom, was a rack of beautiful flintlock long guns.  There, on the topmost pegs, was "The Movie Gun."  It was this very rifle that had so fascinated me those many years ago.  The current master gunsmith was quick to point it out and as quickly steered me to two long guns that lay on the counter in front of him.  Here were two of his creations, each showing the skill of Williamsburgs new master gunsmith. He encouraged me to pick up and examine each of them, knowing that their craftsmanship would most certainly speak more eloquently than anything either he or I could say about them.  As I reverently took each in turn,

We left the shop through the back door, stopping to inspect the boring mill in the rear room and then the forge in an outbuilding behind the shop proper.  Then it past the reconstructed capitol building and we were at the far eastern end of Williamsburg's main thoroughfare, Duke of Gloucester Street.  As we gazed down its tree-lined length we could almost make out the hazy outlines of The College of William and Mary, North America's second oldest institution of higher education, at the far end of the street.  Established in 1693 by royal charter only Harvard University, founded in 1636, is older. Walking west we encountered the wig maker's shop and saw her hand-tying a gentleman's wig.  A bit farther down and off the street was the blacksmith's shop where an interpreter kept the audience

"Sir.  Are you leading a tour group here?" "No." "Well, you do work here, don't you?" "No.  I'm here from California to visit Williamsburg." "Oh..." While I did were my period clothes the other days we were in Williamsburg I always left at least one article of modern clothing on to distinguish myself from the "professionals."  But for the rest of that first full day I found that my research paid handsome dividends as I was able to field most of the questions thrown my way.  And if I didn't know the answer I was able to direct them to one of the "pros" who did.  To a person the staff at Williamsburg treated Robin and I as kindred spirits, sharing their thoughts and observations with us on a wide range of topics, both in and out of character.

A case in point was an interpreter in the print shop.  No, I don't mean someone who translates from one language into another but rather a person who helps visitors to Colonial Williamsburg understand the workings of a particular trade or craft.  This particular gentleman, and a true gentleman he most certainly was, was a retired U.S Navy pilot by the name of Bill Dell.  We saw him on the street above the above the print shop, standing in his ink stained apron, and I asked him how he liked working in the historic section.  Almost instantly his face lit up and a huge smile widened from ear to ear.  He said he liked it just fine.  In the course of our conversation he told us that he and his wife had simply packed up and moved to Virginia after completing a distinguished career in the Navy.  He was obviously in love with Williamsburg and the concept of a living history museum operated mkore like a real town than a theme park.  I envied him the opportunity to spend his retirement years continuing to do something he really enjoys. By now my "dogs were barking" after being confined in my insufficiently broken in colonial buckle shoes and I was waxing nostalgic for the fresh pair of tennis shoes tucked under the four poster bed back at the house.  Besides I noticed that a fair number of period clad Williamsburg employees were also in modern, read comfortable, footwear.  So I hobbled "home" and changed my shoes, much to Robin's amusement.  "Hey!   I held out longer than you thought I would."

Freshly shod we set out to continue our explorations in Colonial Williamsburg.  This time we would go down Nicholson Street, one b lock north of, and running parallel to, Duke of Gloucester.  Besides, the "Publik Gaol," where Edward "Blackbeard" Teach's crew was confined and eventually hanged, was the first stop on the way to the St. George Tucker House and the Governor's Mansion.

Next time, we go from the gaol to the governor's house as we continue our exploration of Colonial Williamsburg.

Click here for an excellent map of Williamsburg's Historic Area.  You will need Adobe Acrobat to view it.