Two Weekends in Wisconsin (Part 2)

Or, House on the Rock: premier weird-ass tourist attraction in the nation


or the creepiest and/or campiest house of horrors in the world?



Our second foray into Wisconsin was a weekend jaunt to Madison, where we did a lot of strolling, shopping, and pub-grub sampling. And where Jeff purchase a lovely new mandolin... but on the way we simply HAD to visit HOTR yet again. Now, you can read about and see photos of an earlier foray to this uber wonder cabinet in this blog's November 2007 archives (although I note that Photobucket has taken it upon themselves to deem some of the naked statuary depicted therein to violate their code of decency... go figure!), so I won't take you through yet another tour. This time I'd like to discuss this attraction in terms of the macabre: If you observe the details (and there are hundreds of thousands to observe), you will have to admit that it is a very spooky place.

First off, it's very dark throughout. I think in the house proper that this serves several purposes. It lends an air of rustic serenity.


For example, this seating area. The thick slabs of tempered glass set horizontally in the wall are one of my favorite design features in the place. I would love to have something like this in my home, honestly. And yet, if you take the same picture with a flash, the whole feel of it is lost. It's just garish (not that being garish isn't part and parcel of HOTR--oh, it very much is!--but not here in the house portion... well, not so much).

In addition, the house portion of the tour has a number of Tiffany and other stained glass lamps on display, and the general gloom of the living area highlights the jewel-like glow of these fixtures quite nicely.


And then, of course, there is the cobwebby state of the place in general--more light would require a much, much larger cleaning staff. Or a cleaning staff to begin with.

Once you have made your way through the original house and into the maw of the display buildings, the gloom only increases. This allows items that would be cute and colorful in more brightly lit display situation to appear incongruously sinister. Case in point:


Shudder!

Of course, the Streets of Yesteryear are "gaslit" and, of course, very dark. All the better to highlight the somber moving tableaux that beckon for your tokens throughout.


The Drunkard's Death


The Death of the Miser


I don't recall what this one is called--something to do with a magician, I think--but it's creepy, don't you agree?

Then there's the overwhelming Heritage of the Seas display with its huge sea monsters battling to the death in the past-twilight darkness, surrounded by ever-mounting catwalks.


But even so the nautical displays, which consist of ship models of all sorts and lots of scrimshaw and memorabilia, can't escape the subtle (or not so subtle) creepitude that permeates the place:


Nothing enhances a detailed scale model of a battleship better than a hovering sailor's torso!

This theme recurs throughout the attraction. Even in the nostalgic 40s-era cafe in the Spirit of Aviation exhibit, we encounter the disembodied:


What's with that guy peering out from the kitchen?

Then there are the creepy dolls just about EVERYWHERE.


Not to mention that the place has not one, but TWO whole carousels of dead-eyed, staring DOLLS.

Penny arcade attractions such as this one abound throughout:


Note the disembodied arm atop this treasure...

Don't get me wrong--I LOVE this aspect of the House on the Rock. I love it that in among the opulent (if, yes, dark)


the nostalgic


and the oddly fanciful


there are also things such this seemingly abandoned tzotchke-mobile


and this


and THIS



All of which makes a sign like this one


make me wonder: Do they actually realize where this guy's true genius lay?

House on the Rock, Part the Seventh

Once you've left the Circus Room with its plethora of Baranger Motions, you proceed into the Galleries, which House on the Rock literature describes as a "collection of collections."

First up, weapons. There are guns and guns and more guns, as well as this charming implement of mayhem:



The weapons are followed by the "Oriental Collection," the bulk of which are Chinese ivory and cork sculptures, porcelain, and a host of skeery, skeery marionettes. Trust me on this--nightmare fodder:



Then there is the armor collection, which includes--among your standard-issue suits standing at attention--tableaux of a medieval battle



(note the mood lighting!) and of Hannibal crossing the Alps.



The Galleries also feature a collection of replicated Crown Jewels of Britain and a scale model of Buckingham Palace. Oh yeah. and another tableau of a Samurai battle.

And then--steel yourself, dear reader--the Galleries give way to the



Doll Carousel Room. Where there is not one, but TWO carousels filled with dead-eyed, staring dolls.

Catwalk ramps take you in a spiral around the larger of the hellish whirligigs, where you can be sufficiently chilled by scenes such as this:



And this:



The second carousel is smaller, and sports, in general, smaller dolls. But it's pretty creepy in its own right, what with its bevy of soiled nudie beauties adorning its upper tiers.



This visit, Jeff and I stood and pondered these dirty girls a while, it dawning on us that perhaps the dust wasn't simply due to an overwhelmed and understaffed cleaning crew, but that it might have been an actual aesthetic choice of Mr. Jordan's or of the current management. And that's just, well, ewww.

Hanging on the walls and ceiling of the Doll Carousel Room are row upon row of carousel horses.



All those horses that AREN'T on the "World's Largest Carousel" are here, surrounding the creepy, staring, dead-eye dolls.

Including the four horsemen of the apocalypse! Name them all!



Alas, your tour is nearing its end. At this point, depending on how fast or how slowly you walk, as well as how much you have stopped to ogle along the way, you've been winding your way through the House on the Rock and its attendant displays for three to four-plus hours. You're pretty much ready for a rest and a chance to buy tzotzkes. But before you go, the tour leads you back into the Carousel Room on an upper level where you can get an aerial view of the whirling carousel. And where more strange statuary reminds you that this place is about as bizarre as they come.



Before the recent expansion scheme, the tour used to spit visitors out smack dab into the gift store, and maybe that will be the case again once the construction is complete. For now, though, you will have to wend your way to a courtyard and follow inscrutable signs



to find the t-shirts and postcards and pens and souvenir books. Alas! We did not see any of the CDs of the music machines for sale as they had been on previous visits. Perhaps since the management has gone to the trouble of tuning them up (well, as best they can), they plan to re-record them? Ah, but I have all four of them already! Ha ha HAH!

And so, weary and bleary-eyed from wonder, you stumble back to your car and head off into the rolling hills of Wisconsin's Wyoming Valley. But you will always carry visions of House on the Rock with you.

The mysterious snake charmer of Moon over Mankoora:



The brass chime-players that grace the Mikado:



And all the other weird-ass stuff House on the Rock throws at the unsuspecting tourist:



Y'all come back now, y'hear?



Odds are, you will.

House on the Rock, Part the Sixth... but first...

As they say, the best laid plans... Nope, I didn't even get halfway to my goal for finishing the novel. HOWEVER, I have been working on it, bit by freakin' bit, and I'm going to try to get that first draft in the bag by the end of the year so that I can at least vary my resolution list just a tad. I'll post updates when it seems to make sense, and I promise a December 31 update--which I HOPE will present a satisfactory outcome.

Now, back to the House on the Rock!

After the Organ Room (the exploration of which includes a respite at a new (to us) cafe off a side passage, complete with restrooms decorated in that incomparable HOTR style), the HOTR visitor is funneled into a massive display of doll houses, watched over by--you guessed it!--creepy dead-eye dolls.



True to HOTR form, this is not a display of three or four elaborately appointed doll houses. Oh no. This is a veritable TOWN of doll houses, done up--both exterior and interior--in a host of different styles. Victorian? Edwardian? Queen Anne? Saltbox? Tudor? Craftsman? Cape Cod? Georgian? Manhattan brownstone? HOTR has them all and more. The doll houses and their meticulously detailed miniature furnishings are quite fascinating, but the sheer volume is overwhelming. And, if you haven't caught on to this already, overwhelming is the lynchpin of the HOTR experience. Now, the looming full-sized dead-eyed dolls add the requisite air of the macabre to this display, but there is something else that plays into the general weirdness of the doll house rooms, and that is the preponderance of miniature details under glass:

The wispy lady at her dressing table...



Daddy Warbucks in his dotage, wondering why the heck Little Orphan Annie never calls...



And this poor stiff, who it appears is about to become his cocker spaniel's next meal.



These are only a FEW of the disturbing scenes set for the wide-eyed tourist on his or her trek through the doll houses.

But these are just the beginning of Jordan's infatuation with the miniature. Prepare yourself, dear reader, for the Circus Rooms!



I have to confess that the miniature circus displays are among my favorite portions of House on the Rock. They are so detailed and complete and colorful that they charm me every time. Here is a detail from the largest three-ring circus on display:



Also on display are smaller circuses, circus trains, and just about all the side tents and animal and performers' quarters you could think of--and some more besides. Here is the model of the dressing tent:



So cool.

Of course, our man Alex could not simply confine the circus theme to his considerable collection of miniatures--oh my, my, no. He had to regale his visitors with another multi-story hangar-sized arena, complete with performer bedecked pachyderm



and enormous babe-packed circus wagon.



The wagon itself has a small brass combo--an assemblage of (I'm sure you will agree) dummies that are quite, um, the lookers...



But the music in the room is provided by this orchestra of dummies--some of which may look kind of familiar.



On different trips to this roadside Mecca, I've noticed mannequins who bear striking resemblance to Nancy Reagan, Bill Clinton, Richard Nixon...

As if elephants and wagons and orchestras are not enough, what the HOTR literature touts as the world's most complete collection of Baranger Motions--mechanical displays that graced the windows of jewelry stores on Main Streets throughout the U.S.A. back in the mid-20th century. If you are of a *certain* age, you may well see one that you remember from YOUR local jeweler.



They are quite charming, and many feature some twist on the bride-and-groom motif, but there are so many on display here (and so many duplicates) that by the time you're ready to leave the Circus Room, your eyes are glazing over. Don't let them glaze TOO much, though, because there is more.

We're nearing the end of the tour, believe it or not, but we still have the galleries to go through. And the one room that gives me the mega-creeps.

Stay tuned!

House on the Rock, Part the Fifth

Now... just what was the source of those shimmering lights you glimpsed at the end of part the fourth? Why, none other than the pulsating, whirling heart of House on the Rock, the World's Largest Carousel!



Now, I don't know if it really IS the largest carousel in the world, but House on the Rock claims that it is. And it doesn't contain one, single horse. Nope... the horses are there on the premises, just not on the carousel or in the room that houses it.

The Carousel Room is not for the timid. It is loud, what with the carousel's music blaring from all corners. The carousel spins so quickly that it's hard to capture its splendor up close.



With a flash, though, the nature of the creatures that ARE featured on the carousel becomes apparent.



Hubba, hubba!

Yes, indeed. Mr Jordan had a thing about nude and semi-nude ladies--even ones who hide their winsome faces underneath elaborate Valkyrie helmets.

The carousel figures are not the only comely attractions in this room. Half-clad nymphets and buxom winged angels hang from the ceiling. Here is one of the more bizarre manikins--note the fox mask in hand.



Despite the swirling splendor that surrounds you, it is difficult to withstand the sheer sensory overload of the Carousel Room for very long. You pass through a doorway that is, literally, a monster's maw, and you enter the Organ Room.

If the carousel is the heart of House on the Rock, the dark, moody Organ Room is its dark, moody soul. The room takes its name from the huge organ consoles on display there--this one, with its built-in TV monitors, is only one of three such behemoths inhabiting the room.



There is more to the Organ Room than its consoles, though. As you can see, after the eye-searing brilliance of the Carousel Room, the Organ Room is dark--so dark that it's as if you have been plunged into a Midsummer Night's Dream gone very badly awry. What illumination does filter through the room comes mostly from a huge red chandelier that dominates the center of the ceiling. You can see it here, behind the lady and her lion:



There are catwalks throughout the room, populated by manikins that you would swear came right out of Diagon Alley or Hogsmeade, except that they have been there since long before Jo Rowling put pen to paper, and they sport the dust to prove it.



Oh, and did I mention the birch trees that would sway in the wind all over the Organ Room if, indeed, there were a breeze blowing through it?

And, lest you think the room not QUITE spooky enough, I'm sure the collection of gigantic figural beer steins will dissuade your bravado.



Next up, doll houses, circus dioramas, and other general craziness.