In 1992 , a skull was discovered in the Smithsonian Native American collection . At the time it was identified as skull number 2244 . Later it was discovered that it was Lewis Powell ’ s skull .
Powell had been involved in the Lincoln assassination conspiracy . Powell , alias Lewis Payne , was supposed to take out Secretary of State William Seward , as part of a holistic slaughter designed to knock off the top of the chain of command . At the time , Lincoln was the president , and Andrew Johnson was the vice president . Seward was stabbed in the face by Powell ’ s bowie knife , ending up disfigured but living seven more years and serving as Secretary of State to Andrew Johnson . Seward is known more for his role in the purchase of Alaska from Russia .
Johnson also survived after George Atzerodt failed to follow through on his assignment to kill Johnson . Atzerodt wandered drunk through the streets of Washington D . C ., throwing his knife onto the road . John Wilkes Booth was the only of the three who succeeded in his assassination . Powell and the other conspirators were hanged a few months later . Powell was a Confederate soldier . He and fifteen other Confederate soldiers , and one Union soldier , are buried in the Geneva Cemetery . Powell ’ s skull was reunited with the rest of his body in 1994 . It had been handed over in 1898 by the Army Medical Museum after traveling from a few different grave sites . Meanwhile , his body was buried next to his mother in Geneva . It turns out that an undertaker separated his head from his body in 1869 . I ’ m not sure why . His family had come to Washington to pick up his remains in 1871 . I ’ ve heard stories that a phrenologist had taken it to examine . Phrenology was popular at the time , but the story is unsubstantiated . My father loved the phrenology angle , but he didn ’ t present it as factual — only as a theory .
These two Geneva stories were favorites of his . He talked about how these stories are the kind of stories that kids need to hear to get them interested in history . I passed through Lake Okeechobee . Highway 441 was desolate . I started to think about transporting Lewis Powell ’ s head . Bring Me the Head of Alfredo Garcia flashed into my mind . I thought of Warren Oates ’ character in the film . He was an itinerant piano
Orlando Arts & Culture , v . 2.3 player transporting a decaying head through Mexico in order to collect ten grand , encountering bombastic bikers , prostitutes , and lots of gun-happy characters , along with Peckinpah ’ s slow-motion violence . This area reminded me of Warren Oates driving down a Mexican highway with Alfredo Garcia ’ s head , the scenes where Garcia ’ s head fell out of the bag to the ground and rolled around while flies hovered over its circumference . Garcia , who is never seen in the movie , allegedly impregnated the daughter of the crime boss he worked for . The crime boss put a bounty on his head , in the most literal way .
Both men ’ s detached heads became sought-after vessels that reduced their lives to specific incidents , which led to their deaths by very unnatural causes .
My father had been cremated . In his will , he asked family members to distribute his ashes into the Banana River in New Smyrna . None of us could figure this out . I didn ’ t know of any strong connection to the place . I surmised it was either a joke that only he knew about , or maybe he had smuggled some pot there in the ’ 70s , or fallen in love there one of the many times he said he fell in love .
My aunt Helen insisted on a Christian ceremony . A few of us read Biblical passages that she chose . I wanted to read a Bukowski poem or something that I thought was more representative of my father . I liked the idea of mixing that up with Biblical passages , but my aunt didn ’ t like the idea . It didn ’ t seem like the time for confrontation , so we compromised . I handled the Communion ceremony . I mixed freshly squeezed orange juice and cheap vodka into a classic , patinated Stanley thermos . For the wafer , we ate Triscuits . He liked Triscuits with peanut butter . We had them plain . My brother threw his ashes into the Banana River .
About a year later , I was driving on a back road that connects to Alt . 19 , just north of the Tarpon Springs Bridge . It was late photo by Ashley Inguanta
morning . I saw a casket next to the dumpster of a warehouse . I forgot how big those things are . It looked about eight feet long , made of white metal . I didn ’ t get out and touch it or open it like some of my friends suggested to me later . I called my friend Alex . He said I should throw it in the back of my hatchback and ride the two hours to Orlando with it sticking out . I ignored his suggestion , but thought about it a little when he mentioned selling it on Craigslist . I wondered about the history of the casket , and how it ended up empty next to a dumpster . I thought about how most people pass through the world fairly anonymously , and how many stories will never be heard . The processor in a computer is often called the brain of the computer , but there is still so much more we hope to learn about our own brains . So much of who we are is not visible — our interior life , our brain , is still mostly an unexplored frontier .
I made my way through Tampa , back from Tarpon Springs , towards Orlando . I stopped and got some guava pastries at the huge twenty-four-hour Cuban bakery in Seminole Heights . After that , I headed down the street to Nicko ’ s Fine Foods diner . It ’ s an authentic Greek diner . It looks like it was manufactured by Airstream . I ordered a Greek omelet and a cup of coffee . I read The New York Times ( hard copy ) as I ate . I noticed a man who looked to be of college age sitting across the table from a woman who looked to be about 35 . She had a folder , and kept pulling out papers that she seemed to be reading from while talking to him . It looked like she was his caseworker . I heard bits and pieces of their conversation . She was looking at X-rays . I heard him say , “ I can look at a copy of my MRI and tell you exactly what part of my brain is missing .”
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