In Arlington National Cemetery, visitors can find the graves of such renowned figures as Thurgood Marshall, William Howard Taft and of course John F. Kennedy.
They can also visit the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier, soaking in the reverence that is felt throughout the 639-acre plot.
But amidst all this reverence, one can also find a bit of late-night trickery — at least if you go back in time to find when Mike Proffitt paid a visit.
That visit — and the fear instilled in Proffitt that night — comprise this week’s edition of “Proffitt’s Ponderings.”
In short, he and some friends were almost forced to leave their car with the darkened tombstones that lay beyond the gates that are locked every day at 5:00 p.m.
Of course, Proffitt was not aware of that at the time.
Let’s not get ahead of ourselves, though.
To tell this story properly, we must go back to the reason for Proffitt’s visit, which means digging into the life of Newport’s own Iliff McMahan.
After graduating from Cocke County and Mars Hill, where he played baseball, McMahan went on to complete his Juris Doctorate degree at Tennessee’s law school in Knoxville.
He owned three newspapers at one time, allowing his love for journalism to grow into a column for The Plain Talk titled “It Sez Here.”
But his remote affiliation with Proffitt’s issue did not come until later, as he accepted a job with the National Labor Relations Board in Washington.
As McMahan worked his way into the department, Proffitt, Jeff Brooks and a couple other friends wanted to pay him a visit.
They drove up to Washington, where they stayed with McMahan and his wife, Libbye.
While there, the men decided to go visit Arlington National Cemetery.
So they drove Brooks’ car, a brown 1983 Pontiac Riviera, from McMahan’s house to the cemetery.
Upon arrival, they looked at all the gravesites, including where Kennedy had been buried 20 years prior.
As the day wore on, the group decided that they also wanted to visit Mount Vernon that day.
They took the train down, with Proffitt telling the others that they could retrieve the car when they returned.
After a full afternoon exploring George Washington’s home, the group took the very last train back to the cemetery.
Upon arrival, they went back to the cemetery — and were horrified to find the gates locked with Brooks’ car inside.
“I felt like I wanted to kill Mike Proffitt,” said Brooks. “Just disbelief that we couldn’t get his car out. I thought it would be safe in that cemetery.”
Alas, it was — but not where the driver or his friends could get to it.
And since they had taken the very last train, Brooks knew they had nowhere else to go if the car was not retrievable.
As they poked around the gates, the men grew even more fearful as the national guard descended upon them.
When they came up and began questioning, Brooks said he was sure they would end up in jail.
They might have, too — if not for Proffitt’s quick thinking.
“The sob story he gave them was unbelievable,” said Brooks. “He told them his uncle was in the hospital, he had to go visit him, and didn’t know where they were at or what to do.
“Then he said he had to stay longer at the hospital than we meant to. It was a whopper. What a story.”
Whether the guardsmen bought the story or not is not the important part.
What is? That eventually, they cracked open the gate, allowing Mike Proffitt — and Proffitt alone — to go get the car.
An hour later, they arrived back at McMahan’s house, where they were questioned a bit more gently by McMahan’s wife.
Then, they drifted off to sleep — glad to be far away from the gates of Arlington National Cemetery, as well as the prison cell that could have awaited them.
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