Places » Ridin' the Rails with Rudolph

Portland Envy; Cascading Home

We stayed at one of the many McMenamin’s inns in the Portland/Greater Oregon area; these crazy brothers have made a mint buying historic buildings all over the Northwest (like the Kennedy Elementary School where we stayed, or Masonic lodges or movie theatres or castles) and repurposing them into event/traveler complexes with microbrew pubs, movie theatres, live music, cafes, hotel rooms, and all sorts of artistically arrayed nooks and crannies. The vibe is casual and social; the rooms are artful and fun–our “classroom” entry hall was lined with chalkboards upon which the staff had scrawled hotel messages and doodles. Not luxuriously appointed (shower was a plastic cubicle, no TV so you go and socialize at one of the minimicropubs) but quirky and comfy. There were six micropubs at the Kennedy school, a couple of which only seated five or six people each, my favorite being the converted principal’s office where one could go for “Detention”:

Detention Micropub at McMenamin's: Where the Bad Kids Go

McMenamin's Kennedy School, South Hallway

Entry to our room @ McMenamin's Kennedy School Inn

We had resolved to take it a little easy and not run around too much. After some consternation we figured out Portland’s intricate but comprehensive bus/train/trolley system and made a pilgrimage to Powell’s Books, then to the huge Washington Park, home of the International Rose Test Garden where they were testing almost exclusively closed rosebuds at the moment….that is to say, we were a little early for the annual blossom explosion, but we knew we might be.

International Rose Test Garden, Portland OR

It’s a huge and beautiful city park and we could have easily spent the day there despite the non-performing roses, but we had a coffee date with an old friend who had moved up to Portland six years ago. It was a great convo–he loves it up there, as do I…I am always filled with regret when I have to leave the Northwest. We have many friends who feel the same way, who would move up to Oregon or Washington in a heartbeat if they could find a way to make a living there. Portland is a wonderful, livable city, but it’s a comparatively small city (why it remains livable, you see) and not the economic engine most of us require to pay the bills. Ah well. It’s nice to know it’s there, waiting for us, when we finally retire to wear flannel and write novels while drinking thick black coffee while the dousing rain batters the rhododendrons outside. Sigh.

The next morning, after one last breakfast and deep draught of McMenamin’s French press coffee–dark and gritty as mud and full of motivating caffeine–we boarded the train for home, the renowned Coast Starlight (where your coffee and wine are served in real glasses and mugs!) From Portland it would be an overnighter to L.A. through the Cascades and into California’s Central Valley to home.

And it was splendid, real ceramic mugs notwithstanding. The Cascades were rugged and as we ventured higher in altitude the world went all Christmas, white-out snow along the tracks, caught in the arms of the sharply-etched trees.

Our train chugging through a Cinco de Mayo snowstorm high in the Cascades

Klamath Lake, from the window of the Coast Starlight

I had been hoping to have some wireless connectivity during this last leg of our journey since I had articles to post, but thankfully there was none through these majestic mountains. Samuel and I huddled together and enjoyed the view (when we weren’t trying to frantically photo the otherworldly snow tableaux that emerged at every turn of the tracks.)

There was a snowy sunset, and we slept.

Coming home through California the next day was a bit of a downer, the journey drawing to an end and the realization that a frantic Re-Entry Mambo would start as soon as we got home from the station. There was haze in the air, starting pretty much in Northern California, and the sprawl began spreading into the horizon as we drew further south. I had pretty good connectivity though (except through Vandenberg Air Force Base, where they nix that) and got some work done–my way of being in denial that Playtime Was Over.

When we got to Union Station, we detrained and were met (surprise!) by Samuel’s parents, whom we didn’t know were planning to pick us up. We had already made arrangements with another friend for transport, so we all hung out in the loading zone and tried to acclimate to the L.A. high-blood-pressure pace once again.

Oddly, some production company was shooting a TV thang in Union Station when we arrived and they had changed the signs to say, “Le Havre, France.” Would that it were so and the journey were starting anew! except there was like, a mime in a beret.

(…..guess….I’ll….be…..heading…..home…..then…… Run away, run away!!)

So we got to the house about 10 p.m. and it was bit of a shock–all was well, no house fire this time–and the sweet peas and poppies and roses and grape vines were so overgrown we could hardly see the front of the house (which was a little wonderful.) Walking into the house and seeing the scene we left behind three weeks ago, strewn with signs of frantic repacking and last-minute trip prep, seemed incongruous and surreal once the ride was over. We put our packs down, started hooking tech devices back up, culling email, piling laundry, etc. We were home and needed to massage some life back into our L.A. existence before we went to bed, with much more to be done the next day/weekend/week, and so on.

The trek is over but the journey continues–stories and scenes still being pondered, digested, and contextualized. We thank you for letting us share our rail adventure with you, and for being part of our greater adventure in life.

The ultimate journey is return, they say. We have returned for now.

Home, Overgrown

Thumbs Up: Dr. Evermor’s Forevertron

It’s hard to put into words how The Forevertron made me feel when I first saw it–a cross between admiration and heartbreak–and how those feelings kept unfolding in every corner of the junkyard complex that houses this gargantuan scrap-metal work of art.

The Forevertron and its attendants are also impossible to photograph in a way that convey its wistfulness and wonderfulness, but here are a few paltry attempts of my own (and some better ones here.)

The Forevertron, central chamber

Forevertron, another inadequate view

Forevertron Telescope

Forevertron Love Cannon, which disables enemies with love

As one wanders the Forevertron grounds and inspects the intense detail–saw blades layered by the hundreds to make tails for huge rusting birds, gears lovingly sized and welded around the mouth a gigantic piston housing as a floral border–the sense of awe and also sadness grow. The amount of work required to assemble this structure (and the Victorian fairy tale of time/space travel upon which its aesthetic hangs) out of discarded metal is mind-boggling; the realization of the amount of waste in our world, and the expressed yearning for a better place to live and explore, is also writ large in its monolithic pipes, tubes, and engine parts.

Orchestral Chime Bird, Forevertron

The artist Tom Every is now in a nursing home, and there’s little information about him on the Interwebs or around Spring Green, WI (it is rumored he had a nasty falling-out with Alex Jordan, builder of House on the Rock–Every’s influence on certain portions of the House on the Rock seems clear, but you won’t hear anyone mention him there.) I suggest taking the time to read the newspaper clippings hung up on swinging boards near the entrance to the Forevertron, since these give the most complete and intimate accounts of Every’s life and the Forevertron. This PBS piece describes his transformation into “Dr. Evermor”:

“Every’s shift from wrecker to preserver of wreckage led to his “rebirth” as Dr. Evermor. Through this new identity, he would build the Forevertron. Dr. Evermor recalls this important period: “I became Dr. Evermor around 1983 when we started to build the Forevertron. I was a bit upset with the world, not so much the economic conditions as the judicial system and things like that, and I wanted to perpetuate myself back into the heavens on this magnetic lightning force field.”

Love Beam (detail), the Forevertron

Thus: Dr. Evermor’s Forevertron, a time machine with central transport compartment, a Gravitron (which lightens the traveler before traversing space), a telescope for skeptics to witness a traveler’s flight, and an elevated white wrought iron gazebo for the comfort of visiting royal observers. The Forevertron is surrounded by an array of creatures and gizmos, and nearby one will find an army of hybrid animal/musical instruments and a garden constructed of pliers, springs, and bowling balls.

Victoria and Albert's Observation Gazebo, the Forevertron

Butterflies, the Forevertron

Bowling Ball Shrub, the Forevertron

For a stuck-up city kid, it’s worth pondering how so much creativity packed itself into a tiny town in Wisconsin–Frank Lloyd Wright’s Taliesin (Spring Green, WI was his hometown), Alex Jordan and his House on the Rock–and the Forevertron just hollering distance away in Sumpter, WI. Three completely different lives and visions, in the middle of dairycow country. It’s a little humbling, but maybe it’s all that wide-open, fertile space that allows the sort of large dreams that distinguished these artists’ work (or maybe it’s something in the cheese.)

Anyway, if you find yourself wandering Wisconsin’s Dairyland, stop by the Forevertron and have your mind blown. And leave a donation–this is work from the heart, and the salvage store that hosts the Forevertron doesn’t charge admission (unlike the ungodly sum one pays to get into the broken-down House on the Rock.) Adventurers, Away!

Toolheads--Warriors or Dancers? or Both?

More Wisconsin Cheese, and Empire

More jello molds. It’s a Wisconsin thang. I like the rainbow one, in case you can’t decide on just one of the many colorful flavors.

The Other Stuff That Comes From Cows, Wisconsin

A Cheese Store, Wisconsin

We proceeded to Spring Green, home of Frank Lloyd Wright‘s Taliesin (also closed–opened for the season the day we left, dammit–Strike Two!) and were made extremely damp by a couple torrential Midwest storms, lightning and rain and thunder and thunderous rain and awe-inspiringly intense. We stayed at a FLW style inn–as close as we got to Frank Lloyd Wright this trip, though I overheard one guest who was checking in say she had read “Loving Frank” and that’s why she came to see Taliesin.

The Usonian Inn, Spring Green WI. Strong coffee, weak network.

Our innkeeper was Romanian and very stressed and very friendly and very friendly about how very stressed she was (technical issues; we understood, as in addition to the digital TV errors she was complaining about to us, the inn’s advertised wireless internet didn’t have the signal strength to reach our room–our USB wireless network thingy wasn’t picking up any local bandwidth either–so we were SOL and had to sit in the lobby if we wanted to retrieve email.) The inn had a great modernistic mechanized Miele coffee maker though–best coffee we had in Wisconsin, I would say, and so stylishly made. It’s fun to watch machines do things, which would become a theme for the rest of the day.

Since Frank wasn’t available, we went to see Spring Green’s other crazy architect attraction, the House On The Rock.

Main house, House On The Rock

The Infinity Room, House On The Rock

It’s hard to describe Alex Jordan‘s maniac design aesthetic and dusty, decadent decor–some of the concepts for which may have been stolen from local artist Tom Every, creator of the Forevertron–but it was an entertaining day meandering through the labyrinth of collected stuff. It’s not that there were rare or authentic items–much of the collection was knock-offs, chintz, and mass-produced–but there was a LOT, a never-ending chain of dimly-lit rooms like opium dens, filled with sequins, brass, costumed mannequins, and hoarded stuff.

Tea stuff, House On The Rock

Mechanical puppet show, "The Death Of A Drunk"

"The Gladiator," a room-sized music machine

I was disappointed because the majority of the advertised mechanical music collection–Regina disk-operated music boxes, bandwagons, calliopes and the like–were non-operational OR WORSE, were rigged to play a tape-recording while the machine was moving and some of the percussion pieces pounded.

"Mikado" music machine, fakey!! (but the guy in the middle beats the drum and raises his eyebrows)

Still, some of the exhibits–oversized walk-in dioramas like “The Organ Room” or the Carousel–were breathtaking, mostly because they were so HUGE and SO CRAMMED with LOTS OF THINGS. It’s hard to imagine SO MUCH STUFF packed tightly into ONE MASSIVE DIMLY LIT BUILDING IN WISCONSIN, but there you have it.

WordPress won’t let me center this video and YouTube wouldn’t let me upload the better res version so you could see the figures clearly, but here’s a quick glimpse of the huge percussive Carousel in motion:

Dimly lit detail, Organ Room

Pouring Rain As We Left House On The Rock

Someday I would like to get back to Baraboo to see Circus World, and muse on the many hills and dales which are–for real–filled with green grass, cows, and red barns with silos. Until then, We’ll Always Have Cheese.

Red Barns--Yep, Here's Where We Grow 'Em

THE EMPIRE BUILDER, OR

TWO AND A HALF DAYS FROM BADLAND TO PORTLAND

Our Baraboo/Dells/Spring Green adventure done, we drove back to Milwaukee and boarded the Amtrak Empire Builder for Portland. It was two days of badlands and snow–yes, snow!

Snow, North Dakota

The train got more and more sticky and trash-laden as the days went on–we saw babies being changed on coach seats (yeccch) and stinky bags of trash accruing in the baggage areas waiting to be discarded. We were grateful we could afford a “roomette” again for the trek–you really didn’t want to be in the coach car for the long schlep.

Samuel, May Day Flowers--both tired

We lunched with a pair of sisters traveling to Portland to care for their brother with cancer, and one time when we were walking through to the dining car we overheard one woman telling her three young children, “…he can’t know where we live when we move.” Yikes.

We met an uncanny number people who worked in the aerospace industry during our trans-country train lunches, and it reeeeaaallly makes you wonder why these people aren’t traveling by plane.

Many of the other passengers were clearly too poor or decrepit to fly; you can really see how class plays into who gets on the train, and who gets to sit where with or without amenities.

Cows, Storm, from the window of the Empire Builder

The last part of the Empire Builder trip was through Montana’s Glacier Park, and it made all the stickiness and trashiness pretty worth it. More snow, exquisite scenery. We’d like to railroad back to a lodge out there sometime and enjoy the natural beauty while standing still (while being mindful not to get et by grizzlies, which can happen up here sometimes.)

The Continental Divide (see obelisk)

Day Two, Montana's Glacier Park

Sleep’s not something that really happens on a train, even in the privacy of a “roomette;” you lie in your bunk and roll around all night as the train shudders past rough switches or grinds into a midnight station. After two nights of not-sleep and not-shower, one can feel a bit put upon. However, Amtrak cleverly put the best scenery for last on The Empire Builder, so you are distracted from your misery a little and forget the long miles that came before.

That final morning, we passed through The Dalles (OR) on approach to Portland; a rainstorm and a rainbow greeting us when we crossed the state line like a promise that we’d never have to endure such a grueling train ride again:

The Dalles

The Rainbow

We arrived at Portland late morning and as soon as I deboarded I immediately became nostalgic for my old stomping ground in Seattle. The rhododendrons and dogwoods were in full bloom and the air was cold and felt nutritious to breathe; it was rainy and glorious, and we had nothing planned but a little R&R (rose garden and renovated hotel) before we ventured home.

Next: McMenamins, and The Starlight Express Home!

Slowly We Turned….Heading West via Niagara Falls, Wisconsin, and the Empire Builder

After our sleepless night in Philly we boarded an early train and went up the gorgeous Hudson Valley to Niagara Falls, which I was shocked to find lacked the quaint honeymoon cottages and culture I had been led to expect by recent puff pieces in the national press. In fact, we were doubly shocked to see how much of the town was derelict–empty storefronts and huge malls, empty.

In contrast, the Canadian side looked like Las Vegas and was thrumming with tourist activity.

Made Of The Mist? The Canadian Side Beckons

We had a good time bumming around in spite of this–the Falls and the park were still beautiful though overcast–we did finally see a rainbow over Niagara in our last hour before leaving.

Touching Water , North Border-View from the deck of The Maid of The Mist (four of the five Great Lakes contribute water to Niagara Falls)

Great Lakes Garden, Niagara State Park

Illuminated Falls At Night

I spoke with a few locals and wrote my first Examiner piece on the town; I ended up discovering a lot more about the region with just a few conversations than I thought I would. Niagara is experiencing some complex political and economic issues right now, and its survival depends on either a radically improved economy right away or some smart, rapid action on behalf of the state and local authorities, neither of which seems forthcoming. It’s sad–there’s a lot to enjoy there, potential wasted mostly by political in-fighting.

Sad Empty "Snow Park," Niagara Falls

Full Moon Over The Niagara Rapids, Near The Red Coach Inn

We stayed at the Red Coach Inn, a last-renovated-in-the-1950’s red-velvet funky theme joint–a little dusty, but the staff was friendly and they had an old school menu in the restaurant, e.g. steaks served with a pat of butter on top. You could hear the Niagara rapids from our room, which was really nice, sound like steady rain.

Modeling "Maid Of The Mist" Blue Ponchos

We did the Maid of the Mist and walked the Falls Park; on our last day, we visited with the Niagara area jeweler that made my wedding band (I’m working on an Examiner piece about him and his work) and he was hilarious and really fun to talk to, but we had to dash to make our next train.

Buffalo Wings At Duff's--Buffalo, NY

We had to change trains and kill about ten hours in Buffalo, which was FREAKIN’ COLD!! We walked around and a) ate authentic Buffalo wings at purportedly-top-rated-wing-joint Duff’s, which were spicy, greasy, and made us slightly nauseated, and b) found the coolest grocery store on the planet, Wegman’s–better stocked with fresh-prepped, interesting food than Bristol Farms or Whole Paycheck, with FREE WIRELESS IN THEIR CAFE!!! We ate lunch like, three times during the five hours we were there, stocked up on snacks for the train, internetted, and then went back to the Amtrak station to set off for Milwaukee and points west.

I mean, they had FRESH FLOWERS in the RESTROOM! WEGMAN'S ROCKS!!!

We rented a car and drove from Milwaukee through, YES–WAUKESHA, WISCONSIN!!! HOME OF SPIDERCOW!!! on our way to Baraboo, WI. We made good time so we drove over to the Dells, which we had been told were “really beautiful.” They were “really” piled high with Vegas-style waterparks and amusement complexes and moose-and-bear themed restaurants, though we did take a nice hike to the water through the woods only to encounter teens talking on their cell phones and some guy with his boat radio cranked up. Ah, the sweet sounds of nature.

The Dells

At Baraboo we stayed at another funky inn run by a funny retired couple–birdhouses that were little models of the inn and crazy cut-out cows everywhere–but we were skunked by the non-open Circus World, to which we had expressly traveled to Baraboo to see. Our best guess was that we had obtained their schedule from an old website–there was a newly renovated one when we checked again, and this one said they weren’t going to open until May 22nd. But we were already there. Bara-BOOOOOO.

You Know You're In Wisconsin When You See These Next To The Cheese

We went instead and picnicked here at Devil’s Lake–not very circusy but we made do. There were turtles.

Our Picnic Bench, Devil's Lake, WI

And the Forevertron made the entire Wisconsin junket worth it. See Samuel’s post and our “Thumbs Up” for more.

The Forevertron

The Forevertron's Love Beam

Other Defenders Of The Forevertron

More in Part II–stayed tuned for House On The Rock!

Random Impressions: Creativity and Spectacles

“Go see the Dells,” people said to us when they heard we would be in central Wisconsin. “It’s incredible!”

Natural Beauty of the Wisconsin Dells

And incredible it was. A tourist attraction that started with beautiful river-carved gorges has evolved into Las Vegas on the Wisconsin. The road in is dominated by huge waterparks with a variety of themes: a giant upside-down Whitehouse, a massive Trojan Horse roller coaster, and more. Each attraction goes beyond its neighbor in outrageousness or size: a veritable creative frenzy to draw the crowd.

Thrills! Chills!

Big Pony

Like the original Las Vegas, the attractions at the Dells are impressive. There is some big-budget art design (and plenty of low-budget design too).

When I visit some place like Disneyland, or watch a well-crafted film, I can admire the quality of the art objectively. I know that there’s a whole team behind the work — sure, there’s likely to be a single art director, but the totality is the result of many contributors.

Not so, the Forevertron.

Main Forevertron

Tucked away behind a salvage yard and with little to announce it, the Forevertron is a massive hulk of metal; it is the ultimate “Steampunk” creation – vast turbines are enmeshed in jungles of tanks and tubing, sprouting insulators and high-voltage cathodes, dominated by complex control centers filled with gauges and dials. It is just one piece in a field of many sculptures, most of which are auxiliary components to the overall system: ostensibly the assemblage is to enable the creator to be transported to other worlds. Thus the system includes such necessary components as body mass shrinkers, defensive “love guns,” viewing areas for royalty, the great telescope for watching his progress, “juicing bugs” which provide additional power, “celestial listening ears” for receiving communications, and so forth.

Forevertron: Transport "Egg"

More Forevertron: Tea-room for Royalty

More Forevertron: Control Center

More Forevertron: Telescope

Forevertron: Bird Band

More Forevertron

Both the main Forevertron and its surrounding sculptures show a deep material ingenuity coupled with a sense of humor.

There are whole bands of emu and moa-like bird / musical-instrument chimaeras, marching in humorous processions. The component pieces are musical instruments and all manner of other mechanical junk. They’re made of trumpets and english horns and bells, but also have graceful flexing spines where the vertebrae are made of shearing blades or drive chains or cogs. A glockenspiel bird’s bells are various cut-up gas cylinders, while another bird’s neck is a saxophone, and many have tails made up of the bells of dozens of trumpets.

More Forevertron

The Forevertron sculpture collection is fantastic. Unlike the attractions at the Dells, it’s mostly the work of one man (with the support of his wife and sons): Tom Every a.k.a. Dr. Evermore. Emotionally, looking at the work is exhilarating, but induces a touch of jealousy, because I know that I’ll never create anything that can compare. It’s a perverse reaction I sometimes get when looking at things I find extraordinarily well done: my admiration and joy is tinged with a kind of gluckschmerz.

A mere 33 miles by road from the Forevertron, The House on the Rock is another expression of creative exuberance. After crossing the massive parking lot, through the gate house and ticket office, you can take a tour of several parts; the first being the house itself, the others being various collections and, for want of a better term, the walk-in spectacles.

The house, as we learn from the hagiographical interpretive center, was created almost singlehandedly by Alex Jordan in an organic fashion, and without a plan. It’s a stone and wood construction across the face of a large boulder that incorporates live trees, is filled with mysterious little nooks and crannies, and is lit by stained glass windows and Tiffany lamps. It’s got hidden waterfalls, Asian-themed sculpture, built-in bookshelves and sofas, and elaborately carved Indian wooden panels throughout. Surprising views open out into the treetops, and inconspicuous doorways lead to small, pillowed chambers. It has all the power and enchantment of a real-world Rivendell blended with hints of a lurid opium den.

Inside House on the Rock

We are told that once Jordan started admitted paid visitors to his house, he transformed into something of a showman, and put all the admissions money back into the house and the collections. An addition to the house, a windowed cantilever walkway out eighty some odd feet above the treetops may be the first sign of this transition.

The rest of the house is collections and spectacles. Like some Dark Disney, Jordan and his team created an underground Main Street USA, dimly lit, and filled with curious collections of antiques: cigarette lighters, scrimshaw, firearms, replica jewelry, and circus miniatures. From there, he started adding nickelodeons, recorder celestas, carillons, orchestrions, and other music-making machines. The further you go, the more complex the music machines.

Blue Danube Room Detail

Orchestrion Room Detail

Organ Room Detail

Orchestrions become whole rooms, decked out in extraordinary detail to look like Viennese Opera Houses or other scenes and are filled with automated instruments. Curiously, as the rooms get more elaborate, the music-making becomes increasingly fake: the automated violin bows move, but the violins lack strings. More and more of the sound is coming from hidden speakers behind decorations. This trend culminates in the auditorium-sized Organ Room, which simulates an enormous, fantastically complex steam organ, replete with oddly reminiscent “Steampunk” design (Tom Every claims to have done a lot of the work, although he is not credited on site. I’ve ordered a book that promises to deliver the dish). At this point, the sound is completely piped in, yet there is still some small simulation of it being an actual working machine with moving mechanical dampers.

Heavenly Host

Decadence

Another trend also is visible as you progress through the collections and spectacles of the House on the Rock. One of the earlier music rooms is bordello themed, with red draperies and an ornate mirror on the ceiling above a four-poster bed. The great carousel has topless mermaids and women riding mystical creatures below a heavenly horde of bare-breasted angels. One of the final exhibits, a doll carousel, is topped with masked nudes cavorting with satyrs. As the overt decadence increases, so does the religious iconography; statues of saints and dolorous medieval woodcarvings abound.

Interestingly, the only portion of the House on the Rock and its that triggers my gluckschmerz is the oldest portion of the house itself. It’s the place where my teen-aged self should have read The Hobbit. The collections are interesting, but not compelling. The spectacles are also fascinating, fun, and impressive … but the stink of fakery detracts, as does the obvious goal of impressing us. Maybe this is some deep-rooted fear of manipulation, but when someone announces that they have the craziest collection, the biggest carousel in the world, the biggest chandelier in the world, the most fantastic musical devices in the world … all those superlatives make me defensive. In contrast, the Forevertron feels like it was done for Dr. Evermore’s benefit, not the viewer’s (and the pretense that it’s a time machine or space travel device is a conceit that’s shared with the viewer — it’s not an attempt to trick us).

In any case, given the opportunity, I’d recommend a visit to both places. The pictures above don’t even begin to do justice to either place.

Sleepless in Philadelphia; Niagara Falling

Love Park, Philadelphia

Friday morning we took the train overnight from Savannah to Philly, where we beheld a sunny morning. We checked our luggage and our reservation at Club Quarters Philadelphia, and set out for the Mütter Museum (see “Thumbs Up”) and the Mummers Museum later that afternoon. Both are worth seeing, but don’t confuse the two or you will be permanently messed in the head.

Like the Mütter Museum, the Mummers Museum is not for everybody. I was drawn to it because I am fascinated by community-created rituals, and Philadelphia’s New Year’s Day Mummer Parade is a bizarre and wonderful example of how folk traditions are initiated, institutionalized, and passed down to new participants.

Philly is home to several Mummers “clubs” (which resemble New Orleans Mardi Gras krewes) that march and dance in a garish New Year’s Day parade, replete with “comics” (clowns), “string bands,” “wenches,” and “fancy brigades.” The clubs can spend $100-$200k outfitting their membership in fantastical costumes (properly called “suits”) and they compete in themed choreographic presentations that are rehearsed for months on a volunteer basis.

This is a five-minute documentary featuring a champion mummer club, the South Philly Vikings. (Note: as of 2009, there are no more cash prizes…these folks are mummers for love and bragging rights, and spend much of the year fundraising to make their show possible. Shades of SpiderCow!!)

The Mummers Museum documents the evolution of the parade from its roots in ancient mummer traditions to its modern regulated state. The museum itself is a little dusty and many of the exhibits are aging and nonfunctional, but we found a few bits of history to enlighten us–the archive photos of early parades are fantastic. It’s clear the parade was once a subversive romp by a mostly immigrant population–Samuel likened it to the “Burning Man” of its time–but now it is a big money establishment-run affair, and the Mummers Museum helps one understand this evolution from high-spirited improvisational mischief to manic civic competition.

The volunteers who run the museum–members of mummers clubs themselves–will enthusiastically talk your ear off about the Mummer phenomenon. One is left wondering if there’s a kind of wonderful antic madness running through Philly, or if there just aren’t enough other activities to keep people gainfully occupied. It’s easy to forgive them for oversharing their excitement though–lots of sparkles for New Year’s Day, a massive and serious contest, and an even more massive and serious party afterwards!!

Mummers Museum, main hall

The Mummers Museum is outside the main tourist area of town where I guess rent is cheap for non-profits–we had a nerve-wracking walk through a rough section of Philly to get back to our hotel. That tired us out so we opted to have dinner close by at a cloyingly hip place on Chestnut called Continental Midtown, a “global tapas” diner (which translates as small plates, but you can’t say “small” in these recessionary days, even around foodie types who should know better.)

We had our Regionally Required Dish–Philly Cheese Steak–in a won ton wrapper, and it tasted pretty good, if lacking in Philly street cred.

Philly Cheese Steak Wonton, Continental Midtown Restaurant

Sadly, Philly street CRUD was all we had that night at our hotel, Club Quarters Philadelphia.

About one-thirty in the morning, the nightclub downstairs spawned what Samuel dubbed a “horn artist,” i.e. some schmuck who leaned into his/her car horn for about two hours. That, the shrieking and yelling from the clubgoers, and the consequent sirens two hours later kept us stone awake until about four a.m. So lovely, as we had to get up at 5:30 a.m. to make our train to New York.

We were beyond zombied and miserable when we went downstairs that morning–mind you, we were on the NINTH FLOOR and the ruckus sounded like it was just outside the window–and Club Quarters gave no quarter when I complained upon check-out. “Oh yeah, that’s the club downstairs” was all they said, politely, and our only recourse was to write a ruthlessly truthful review on TripAdvisor about our night there. They didn’t even have their lobby coffee ready. We were traumatized but too exhausted to actually freak out on it.

It’s really too bad–Club Quarters could have been a nice experience if they had made some attempt to deal with the situation, or with us. As it is, if it’s a weekend–run away, run away!!

Six a.m. Breakfast of Champions, Philly departure lounge

At six a.m. we slogged onto the train to Penn Station, NYC, where we transferred to the Amtrak Empire State up the Hudson River Valley to Niagara Falls. It was a packed train, which surprised us, but the scenery was beautiful.

Hudson Valley, from train window

We arrived in Niagara in the late afternoon and were driven to our inn by an Indian taxi driver who drove like Batman having a panic attack (as it ended up, all our taxi drivers were Indian; apparently in Niagara there are a substantial number of immigrants and tourists from India, who often come via Canada.)

From the first moments of our arrival, it was clear Niagara Falls was not all we had been led to believe, though it has kept a few of its maidenly virtues intact. Sadly, the “Honeymoon Capital of the World” has lost much of its business to the meretricious development across the river on The Canadian Side. It seems to be sad days for the U.S. portion of Niagara, but maybe that’s about to change???….

….More on that Hard Rock Border War and the Lack of a Honeymoon “There” There when next I post….stay tuned!

Made Of The Mist? The Canadian Side Beckons

THUMBS UP: The Mütter Museum, Philadelphia PA

19 South 22nd Street, Philadelphia, PA, 19103

The Mütter Museum is part of the College of Physicians of Philadelphia and the experience is hard to summarize. This collection of medical rarities and historic forensic specimens is awe-inspiring and engrossing (emphasis on the gross, at times.)

Skull, Mütter Museum

From their website: “The Mütter Museum was founded to educate future doctors about anatomy and human medical anomalies. Today, it serves as a valuable resource for educating and enlightening the public about our medical past and telling important stories about what it means to be human. The Mütter Museum embodies The College of Physicians of Philadelphia ‘s mission to advance the cause of health, and uphold the ideals and heritage of medicine.”

We couldn’t take any photos of the stuff inside, but you can see some of this bizarre and touching collection of medical specimens from days gone by on the Mütter Museum website.

It’s probably too much to tour the whole museum–though fairly small, it gets a bit overwhelming–but highlights include a collection of antique specimens showing different dermatological disorders (some real, others made of wax but exhibited in jars of alcohol to simulate actual tissue samples), a rare saponified mummy (a body that has turned to soap), human horns, autopsy materials from famous and not-so-famous murders, and–for those truly interested in the grotesque–a teratology exhibit (abnormal fetuses and infants.)

The museum maintains an air of dignity and respect for those who are exhibited there, but it is not entirely without a sense of humor–the gift shop offers souvenirs like smiling plushy microbes, anatomically-correct chocolate hearts, and silk ties with skull or virus patterns for those of the ghastly/Gothy persuasion.

I found the section on war medicine from the Civil War very moving, and Samuel and I walked out of there feeling very glad to enjoy good health in the time of antibiotics and advanced surgical technologies. We recommend it highly, but eat lunch well beforehand–you can visit the sweet and calming Medicinal Herb Garden afterwards if you get a little green.

Thumbs Up: Alligator Soul Restaurant, Savannah GA

Everyone raves about Mrs. Wilkes, but I thought the better Southern meal experience–though definitely Nouvelle Southern–could be had at Alligator Soul, just a few blocks away from Mrs. Wilkes. It’s located at 114 Barnard Street near the Historic District, in a nicely renovated cellar location–a repurposed granary with windows shaped like eyes, an architectural design that was once believed to create mojo to keep pests and thieves away.

The Walls Have Eyes

Fried Green Tomatoes, Nouvelle Southern Style

The amuse-bouches of truffled ground beef in a beignet crust and the ancho-honey corn muffins were fantastic, as were the house salad with sundried tomatos, stone-fruit, and goat cheese and the fried green tomatoes appetizer with chipotle mayo and sweet pepper relish.

Samuel, Soft Shell Crabs

Beignet Chicken

For mains, Samuel had the soft-shell crab and I had a beignet-crusted Southern chicken breast with a sweet/spicy dried peach bourbon reduction; they were bursting with wonderful combinations and the portions are quite large for a gourmet restaurant (of course, this is The South.)

The menu changes frequently depending on what’s fresh in the marketplace, and the combinations are inspirational–one of the few meals I’ve had in the past couple years where I’ve stopped mid-mouthful to savor in amazement at the complexity of the flavors. They offer chef’s tasting menus and wine flights for foodies. Full bar, good wine list, and a great experience.

The couple next to us wasn’t happy however–their mashed potatoes were cold and there was some problem with their coffee–but they were a little older and I think expecting something conventional.

Anyway–highly recommend it. Reservations are necessary; it’s definitely the hot joint in Savannah these days. Oh, and the chocolate pecan pie with butter toffee ice cream was divine, y’all.

Give me li'l sugar.

Off The Rails: Driving The South

If you’ve read Samuel’s rant at the beginning of this blog about the impossibility of the Amtrak booking system, you know that we couldn’t make a complete circuit of the U.S. by train because Amtrak no longer operates the Southern Line east of New Orleans (though it appears on all their schedule maps.)

So we rented a car and lit out, trying to drive from New Orleans to Jacksonville FL in one day–about 550 miles–planning to find a random hotel, and then driving another 150 miles to Savannah the next morning.

Vroom! We barreled through four states–LA, MS, AR, and most of FL in about twelve hours, but took a detour down to the Florida portion of the Gulf Shore near Pensacola Beach (paying the kingly sum of $1 to take the toll bridge there) stopping to touch the water in the Gulf of Mexico and take some photos of the beautiful white sand beaches. It’s mid-April and spring breaks are over so the resort and beach preserve were fairly empty–very beautiful and almost desolate now, but I’ll wager a crowded nightmare in summer. We were glad we took the time to meander down to see it though, and you might want to do the same some day.

Welcome To Mississippi!

Welcome To Alabama!

Welcome To Florida!

Welcome To The Gulf Of Mexico!

White sand beach, Florida's Gulf Island National Seashore

By the time we got done with our Gulf Shore visit it was late afternoon and I wanted to hammer through to Jacksonville before it got dark, but we decided to cut back to Interstate 10 through Niceville–which BTW, wasn’t–and once we were back on I-10 and night had fallen Samuel exclaimed, “There’s a place here on the Florida map called the Lech Worth Love Mounds” and I said, “THERE IS NOT!!” and he bet me there was, right near “Lake MicoSucky.”

He was having me on, of course. When challenged, he waffled by claiming it was tiny print/hard to read/not too sure but we were in a trapped-in-the-car-too-long punchy mood so in the middle of the night we drove about 40 miles off highway to check it out. We couldn’t go into the site, but here’s the sign.

Harumph.

He didn’t mention it was hyphenated, “Letch” with a t, and it’s Lake Miccosukee, but it only goes to show that some people will stretch anything for a punchline.

It was quite late after this diversion so we holed up in a nearby Holiday Inn Express in Madison County, Florida (which worked out nicely due to the Waffle House across the parking lot and a coin-op laundry in the hotel) and then drove through Jacksonville to the Atlantic the following morning.

The "spot" where Interstate 10 ends, Eastern end, Jacksonville FL

Touching the Atlantic (Second Base)

We touched the Atlantic–we figured we might as well touch all four water bases of the U.S. as we go along, just to say we did–then drove up to Savannah. We slept pretty well–something that wouldn’t happen again for a while–then spent the day on a tourist tram looking at Savannah’s main attractions. If you like art, architecture, and design, there’s lots to see–the Savannah College of Design, or “SCAD,” has bought and renovated many historical buildings and it’s spiffy to see. We also went to the famed Mrs. Wilkes Dining Room for lunch, lining up with the other tourists an hour beforehand to obtain a seat at their family-style table.

Mrs. Wilkes Dining Room: Table and Tourists

I know everyone raves about it and the food was tasty (and cheap for what you get at $16) but I’m not sure it’s the apotheosis of Southern cooking everyone says it is. It was educational, a comprehensive layout of all those dishes you’ve read about, and it was an easy and fairly painless way to try them all in one sitting. Might just be some anticipointment, or maybe just another little discovery tainted by success. I would also have appreciated knowing up front that they are a Christian organization, and they force a grace in Jesus’ name on you before the meal–that soured things for me a bit, but with the high saturation level of evangelical Christian culture we observed throughout the South it shouldn’t have surprised me. I was tempted to say the Shehechiyanu in response but couldn’t remember all the words, so I just ate my collard greens in Jesus name like everyone else (though Samuel says he silently invoked the FSM as his spiritual antidote.)

You're Going To Hell, Y'all

Speaking of swearing to God, we also visited the Juliette Gordon Low birthplace; “Daisy” Low was the founder of the Girl Scouts, who vow at every meeting “to serve God and [their] country” as well as to be helpful, kind, and sell cookies for the cause. The birthplace is regarded as Mecca for Scouts to this day–registered Girl Sprouts can buy a special Birthplace Badge if they actually go there, and a Friendship Badge if they couldn’t make it. Still has many of the original furnishings from the mid- to late 1800s, well-preserved. Fun to see if you like that period in history, and her story confirms once again that It’s Good To Be Rich.

Southern Comfort--Daisy Low House Verandah

There are dozens of other old homes that are open for tours, and if you’re into antiques and antebellum design Savannah will be a treasure trove. You can also visit the Mercer House, location of the murder depicted in “Midnight in the Garden of Good and Evil.” Read the book first before you go–we hadn’t, and they won’t talk about it on the tour.

Returned the rental car and caught the train to Philly. Strange to be in a warm clime and then one train ride later be in the cold/dark/wet. More on “Sleepless in Philadelphia” soon…..

Thumbs Up: Angelo Brocato Ice Cream and Gelato

214 N Carrollton Ave, New Orleans, LA 70119-5109

(504) 486-0078 | www.angelobrocatoicecream.com/

I loved the stracciatella (Italian chocolate chip), it was creamy and flavorful, clearly homemade and fresh….but wish I’d looked more carefully before ordering! As soon as I was handed my gelato, I noticed the display case beyond the register that had fresh spumoni, cassata (spumoni/cake combo, yum!) and baked Alaska too. If I could have eaten more I would have tried them all! They also make several varieties of authentic italian cookies, available in gift bags, and have a grand old school espresso machine–I love coffee with my ice cream, and American joints never have it. Go indulge!