Wisconsin Treasure Hunt

Yesterday I arose at an ungodly hour to catch the 6:56 am Metra to Wisconsin, buoyed only by the prospects of fresh treasure awaiting in the wilds of Sturtevant. And it was SO worth it!

Laurie had boarded the train at Ravenswood even earlier than I did in Evanston, and such a schedule had not given us time for more than a cup of coffee before heading to the station, so once our partner in conspicuous consumption Mary picked us up in Kenosha, we headed right over to the The Coffee Pot. Mushroom omelets and stuffed nutty waffles were consumed, and the hearty fare sustained us through the entire day and three antique malls chock-a-block with goodies.

So, now to the loot:

I picked up these pieces of sheet music for a song (sorry!)--and guess what? The only one that doesn't include chords for a uke or guitar is... wait for it!... Aloha Oe! Go figure. But it's worth it to have that cover with its attribution to H. M. Queen Liliuokalani. "Love's Old Sweet Song" I bought for sentimental reasons. It's one of the songs my daddy used to sing to me as he tucked me in when I was very little. His repertoire also consisted of "Red River Valley" and "The Old Spinning Wheel" (for which I also have the sheet music). The other two songs I bought I don't know yet, but they have uke chord diagrams, so I'll figure them out sometime soon. I just liked the covers.

This tablecloth and napkin set had just been set out in one of the booths at School Days Antique Mall when I scooped it up for a mere $10. The tablecloth has some stains and weathering, but I think it a good soaking in a non-chlorine bleach solution should take care of that--or at least mitigate the problem.

School Days was also the place I found the navy blue straw hat with its red embellishments. If I can find a nice dress to go with it, I might just wear it to Erin and Tom's wedding later this spring.

So help me out here--is the little ceramic tsotchke an elven pig or a piggish elf? I could not resist the weirdness. And, remaining true to my magpie nature, neither could I resist the strange nephew-art Christmas tree topper. Why? Well, 1) because it is sparkly and 2) because it is sparkly.

Here are a few more goodies I picked up on the hunt: A box painted with a desert scene, a bracelet with crystal and pearl details (we all bought bracelets, by the way--once I had the case open to inspect MY bracelet, Laurie and Mary could not resist the lure of the other two that shared the velvet board with mine), a transferware Cape Cod souvenir plate and a hand-painted souvenir plate from Los Angeles (one of these days I'm going to have to put my souvenir plates on display again--yet another item on the ever-growing to-do list...), and one of the finds of the day--a school girl's journal from the 1920s. Let's look inside!

First up under "Spreads and Entertainments" is an account of a birthday dinner journal-writer Viola's friend Beverley's mother threw for her. It begins, "Mrs. H--- invited Alma and me over for dinner the day of my birthday.... Mrs. H--- surely would take first prize for her wonderful cooking. Boys, if I were you, I'd shine around Beverley!"

Oh, and for those of you who are wondering what "Elk's Big Production" touted in the clipping was, it was that famous musical "Lets Go Peggy." Heh.

The book has many newspaper clippings reporting on the results of high school football and basketball games, and Viola seems to have had a soft spot for a varsity letterman named Donald. However, in the back of the book there is an empty space where Donald's photo once resided, and his name is struck through. Alas, the vicissitudes of young love. One picture, however, is given the place of honor on its own page where it has lain all these years protected by a small sheet of parchment:

It's hard to top Viola's School-Girl Record, but I think that this might come close:

It's there on the right, sharing a place of honor with Jeff's mystic eye fez. It is not the bejeweled wonder that many Shriner fezes aspire to be, but its cache of cool lies in its simple metallic embroidery and its tassel of delicate brass springs. Not that I wouldn't make a beeline to a bejeweled fez if I saw one for sale (especially if it were from Moolah temple--now THAT would be awesome!)... but I like this simple old guy just fine.

I also scored a pile o' old linen postcards--two of which were of my hometown. No photos of those--at least, not yet.

Oh, and as promised... here's a photo of the lovely new concert uke to close this entry:

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?

Two Weekends in Wisconsin (Part 1)

Okay, yes. It's been almost an entire month since I wrote in this. And I know I keep promising to do better, but... well. I'm a backslider of the highest (or perhaps that should be lowest?) order.

At any rate, earlier this month, I found myself in Wisconsin two weekends in a row! The first was a Saturday sojourn in Racine and environs, treasure hunting with Laurie and Mary. The second was Jeff's and my long weekend getaway to Madison by way of the incomparable House on the Rock. This entry will deal with treasure hunting... the next one (which I promise you won't have to wait another month for) will deal--for the most part--with what I've come to think of as the nation's quintessential house of horrors.

But first, treasure hunting!

Here's the way it works: Laurie and I take the train from Chicago to Kenosha (only $5.00 round trip on a weekend!), where Mary, who lives in a grand old house and work in progress in Racine, picks us up. From there, we visit some of the local antique malls and such... but our main destination is always the School Days Antique Mall in Sturtevant. It is a veritable TROVE of treasure, as you will see...


Just look at what greeted us as we entered the main room, which used to be the gym of the old school in which the mall is housed. Yes. It's a stuffed bear cub, horrified at a book about Hitler.


This booth, near the entrance to the gym, is always densely but artfully arranged by themes. This is a garden theme. It's also way overpriced. I've coveted many a treasure from this booth, but alas, I have never treasured any of it enough to pay the asking price.


Most of the booths have a more reasonable pricing policy, yet even so, sometimes it is hard to justify paying the prices asked. The souvenir pillow above, for example. I believe it was in the neighborhood of $20 or so. Not exorbitant, but not cheap either. I still think I should have sprung for it, but the thought of schlepping it along with my other treasures back on the train made me snap the photo and keep only the memory of it.

Here's another item I decided to forego:


I love the decorative foliage, but what really attracted me (magpie that I am) was the ring of lavender glitter around the photo. But it was really quite too expensive--in the $30s, I think. Too dear for my blood, even though it sparkled.

One thing I love about treasure hunting (aside from treasure finding) is the inevitability of odd tableaux created when a bunch of old stuff is put on display. Not arranged with a theme or motif in mind, but just kind of jumbled together, as here:


The Indian is aiming at the cowboy, who in turn has the tin bunny in his sights...

Or here,


where Rudolf referees a cage match between Santa and a plush soldier.

This one is a tad more disturbing:


Naked doll parfait.

The theme of this treasure hunt shaped up to be all about creepy ceramics, however. Just take a look:










I actually brought the one directly above home with me--it now graces our mantel.

I came close to bringing this little number home:


I am very partial to tiaras (although I have absolutely nowhere to go where it would be appropriate to wear one). I wore this one around the mall for a while and then put it back on the pile where I found it, lagniappe for another magpie.

But I tried VERY, VERY hard to justify bringing THESE treasures home:


Oh. My. God. Sparkly, multicolored, pointy-toed shoes. Made. For. Me. But no. These were made for Cinderella, and I was but an oafish stepsister who could not cram my toes in them, much less make any real attempt to claim that they fit. And I do NOT have big feet! Wah! I was disconsolate!

So what other treasures beside the creepy pixie planter did I bring home with me? Well, I bought several kitschy souvenir plates (I collect them, and one day I will build a plate rail around the dining room on which to display them), a candy dish in my crystal pattern (Cambridge Caprice--vintage glass and crystal), and the most amazing find: a 1930s needlework book with instructions for crocheted hats and bags. Not winter toques or stocking caps or berets, either, but stylish little confections of that era. I'm crocheting the "jockey cap" now--if it works out who knows? I could have a little sideline going in a few months... IF it works out!

Stay tuned--I promise, promise, PROMISE that I will regale you with more Wisconsin wonder in a few days!

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.