Let’s make it four. With nothing planned for the week following a string of three museum visits, my thoughts naturally turned to extending the streak. Museum visit number one was the result of an online article, number two happened because of a friend’s suggestion, and number three came from a search for “Cincinnati museums”. Thinking to extend the range along with extending the streak, I searched for “southern Ohio museums” and found not only several museums in that area but one with that exact name.
A sunny day was all it took to get me to head to the Southern Ohio Museum in Portsmouth, Ohio. Without question, my willingness to make the two-hour drive was boosted by the fact that Portsmouth has a mighty fine brewery and an outstanding collection of Robert Dafford murals.
A small group of students were being given a tour of the museum’s lower gallery when I arrived and I briefly tried to eavesdrop on their guide but soon gave that up as a bad idea and headed upstairs. Here the displays are mostly semi-permanent. Many items displayed are from the museum’s permanent collection but may change from time to time. The photos are of works by Ohio artists Gretchen Stevens Cochran, Craig McDaniel, and Clarence Holbrook Carter. Everything in the museum has an Ohio connection of some sort.
“Art of the Ancients” is the only truly permanent exhibit in the museum. Thousands of artifacts from the Adena, Hopewell, and other indigenous cultures are displayed here. The museum occupies the former headquarters of the Security Central National Bank of Portsmouth and some of the bank’s coin-related trim can be seen in the third photo. In that same photo, Gretchen Stevens Cochran’s “Bounty or Burden” can be seen in the background.
When I returned to the first floor, the students were wrapping up their tour at the far end of the gallery. This space is used for temporary exhibits and is currently occupied by “The Power of the Object“. Maureen Cadogan’s collection of objects from “the journey and experience of African American people” is augmented with several quilts made by neighbor Holly Davis. The exhibit is arranged chronologically with some of the oldest items in the collection being the slave collars in this photo.
The poster on the wall in the grouping just beyond the collars really drew my interest because of some personal memories. The text beside the poster says “Though Minstrel shows gradually disappeared from professional theaters, its impact and imagery continued… well into the twentieth century.” To that, I can attest. My high school staged minstrel shows as late as 1964 or ’65. I recall two of these shows and a school yearbook indicates these were during my freshman and senior years. There is no information reported about the actual shows. The indications I refer to are individual students listing the shows among their activities. I listed participation during my freshman year only. I recall being in the chorus and a short skit but I’m sure that by the time of that second show, it had become apparent to all that my presence in any vocal group was not helpful. I have found no photos of these shows. The closest is a small picture of a parade presumedly promoting the 1964/5 show. I believe that is me carrying the bass drum.
I also have some vague memories of seeing items similar to those in the mammy-themed display in the homes of relatives and friends. I have less vague memories of an alligator pencil holder like this one at my grandparents’ house. I do not have any personal memories of the toys in the third photo but a recent online discussion about a real-life version of the Baby Rack game that a friend encountered while researching amusement parks made this pressed steel version jump out at me. Brinkman Engineering Company is now Brinkman Tool & Die and no longer manufactures toys of any sort.
There is indeed power in these objects. They clearly can bring back memories including some that aren’t particularly welcome. It is also pretty obvious that they can make things outside our personal experience more real. Objects near the exhibit’s end provide evidence that as crappy as race relations sometimes seem, they have improved.
I’m sure I would have enjoyed visiting the Southern Ohio Museum regardless of what was in the temporary gallery but I’m very happy that I learned of the museum before “The Power of the Object” goes away. That will happen in just a few days, on March 27. Other exhibits will follow, of course, and I now have a reason on beyond murals and brews to visit Portsmouth.
Like pictures? It’s got ’em. Like variety? Got that too. There are enough pictures to fill a deck of cards or a weekly calendar, which is not accidental. The premise for the book was writing an article to accompany a photograph every week for a year. That could very well be a student assignment in an overly long writing course and in a sense it is. Jim Grey assigned himself the exercise to, as he says, “strengthen this muscle”. He is referring to the writing muscle which can surely benefit from practice just as much as a musician’s skill or an athlete’s strength.
Even though photographs are at the heart of Under the Catalpa Tree, the book’s subtitle mentions only “stories and essays”. I’m guessing that is at least partially because only the stories and essays needed to be newly created for the book. The photos already existed from Grey’s many years of photographing the world around him. He doesn’t explain how the photos were selected. I am sure it was not completely random but there is tremendous variety. They range in quality from slightly fuzzy black-and-white snapshots taken years ago with a yardsale camera to crisp color images taken with high-end gear and well-developed skills. Some photos are digital but film is the source of many of the images since Grey collects — and heavily uses — film cameras. Among the subjects are family, friends, cars, houses, nature, and an abbey in Ireland.
A detail I appreciate is laying out the book so that all images are alone on a left-hand page. That happens naturally when the text occupies a single page, which is common, or three pages, which is not. There are quite a few two-page essays where a blank is used to get things back in synch. Totally worth it, in my opinion. Those pages, by the way, utilize Amazon’s premium paper which has the photos looking their best.
It’s a simple concept. Position yourself at the southernmost point in the continental United States then drive to the northernmost point in the U.S. accessible by road. The former is Key West, Florida. Deadhorse, Alaska, is the latter. The two are separated by a little over 4,000 miles as an extremely hardy all-weather crow might fly. Limited to traveling on the earth’s surface, Tom Cotter and Michael Alan Ross clocked 8,881 miles in making the connection. The difference is easily justified. Tom and Michael had more fun than any crow could even dream of.
That camper was a new Basecamp 16X on loan from Airstream. The tow vehicle was a 2021 Bronco Outer Banks on loan from Ford. As Cotter tells it, he got the Bronco by telling Ford that Airstream had promised him a camper and he got the camper by telling Airstream that Ford had promised a Bronco.
They clipped a corner of Georgia, then crossed Alabama (with a stop in Muscle Shoals) before turning north in Louisiana to reach Tennessee. They entered Missouri via the bootheel and maintained a west-by-northwest course through that state and Kansas with appropriate adjustments to take in the big ball of twine in Cawker City. Then it was a little more directly north through Nebraska and the Dakotas with a Memorial Day pause at the Black Hills National Cemetery in South Dakota. There was a different sort of pause at the North Dakota line. Despite all of Cotter’s past travels, he had, at this point, visited just forty-nine states. North Dakota was number fifty.
North of Bismarck, Cotter and MAR picked up US 2 and headed west. That might not be the most direct route to Alaska but there were friends near Seattle and, as any good road-tripper knows, anything can be “on the way” if you look at it just right. Hitting Glacier National Park and the Going-to-the-Sun Road might have also been a factor in route selection but the scenic road was not yet open for the summer when they arrived. There was, of course, plenty of great scenery even without Going-to-the-Sun, and plenty of interesting people, too. 
With the break out of the way, it was time to enter Canada and head for the beginning of the Alaska Highway in Dawson Creek, British Columbia. Cotter had a recent (but not quite current) edition of The Milepost with him. The Milepost is published annually and is close to indispensable for anyone traveling the Alaska Highway. That road is its primary focus and its initial reason for being but it now not only covers the Alaska Highway but just about every path for getting to and from it. That includes coming from Vancouver which is what Cotter and MAR were doing.
British Columbia and the Yukon Territory contain the bulk of the Alaska Highway with only the northernmost two hundred miles or so being in Alaska. Cotter reports that any pride associated with returning to the U.S. was short-lived and declares this “absolutely the worst roads” they had driven so far. The Alaska Highway officially ends at Delta Junction but Fairbanks is easily reached on what is sometimes seen as an extension, the Richardson Highway.
The Airstream was left with a cousin while Cotter and MAR tackled the final stretch to Deadhorse in the Bronco. Several aspects of this trip reminded me of my own 2016 drive to Alaska but perhaps none so much as the mention of “a mandatory pit stop at the Hilltop Restaurant north of Fairbanks”. Even though I did not drive north of Fairbanks on my own but used a commercial tour company to visit the Arctic Circle, we had breakfast at the Hilltop before hitting the Dalton Highway.
My visit to the Arctic Circle had been a one-day there-and-back affair. Cotter and Mar spent a night on the Dalton Highway in Wiseman and two nights at the end of the road in Deadhorse. Just reaching the end of the road would be enough for most people but Cotter went above and beyond by joining the Arctic Polar Bear Club with a dip in the 40°F Prudhoe Bay to bookend his dip in the “warmer than my morning shower” water at the start of the trip in Key West.
Last Wednesday’s post was the 100th book review published on this blog. Eight were of my own books and one (
