Howard Steamboat Museum

I was vaguely aware of the Howard Steamboat Museum in Jeffersonville, IN, but it wasn’t until it kept popping up as I poked around the internet in preparation for my March visit to the Arabia Steamboat Museum in Kansas City, MO, that I thought seriously about visiting. Within moments of entering, I regretted not visiting the museum years ago. I expected a collection of steamboat artifacts, and there are indeed plenty of those, but the museum is so much more. The setting for those artifacts is a Gilded/Victorian Age time capsule unlike any I’ve seen before.

James Howard started building steamboats in 1840. His son, Edmonds, began construction of this 22-room mansion in 1890.  Edmond and his wife Laura moved into the mansion, furnished for the most part with items purchased at the previous year’s Chicago World’s Fair, in December, 1894.

Their son James and his wife Loretta were the mansion’s last residents. James expressed his desire to convert the family home into a museum, and after his death in 1956, Loretta made that happen, with nearly all of the original furnishings remaining. When several feet of water flooded the house in 1937, most of the contents were saved by moving them to the upper floors. The Steinway piano was too heavy and suffered greatly from the floodwaters, as shown in displayed photos. The cabinet has been wonderfully restored, but not so the internals. It is beautiful to look at, but will never be played again. The house was constructed by workers and with materials from the boat building operation, and the floors were made exactly like a boat deck. Almost unbelievably, they survived the flood. The beautiful terrarium is a boat builder story in reverse. Intended as an aquarium, my guide Aaron explained that its builders could keep water out but not in. It leaked from the beginning, so the water was replaced by sand, and even that leaks a bit.

Because the home’s construction was treated as a side project to boat building, its cost was never known. The cost of the fabulous chandeliers is known, and Aaron shared it, but I’ve forgotten the exact amount. I do recall it was over $600,000 in today’s dollars.

After a guided tour of the first floor, Aaron turned me loose, and I headed upstairs with a tour guide book in my hand. This is where more of those steamboat artifacts are displayed, but there is also quite a bit of original home and office furnishings.

Exhibits tell the Howard Steamboat story along with the general story of the steamboat era.

A remarkable piece of history from the steamboat era is this stateroom door from the famed Robert E. Lee. I imagine this desk was moved here from the boat works across the street. Sitting atop it are an Ediphone, a typewriter, and another Ediphone with some wax cylinders.

The Howard home was naturally one of the first with both indoor plumbing and electricity. The electricity originally came from a generator at the boat works. Because the generator did not operate full time, lighting fixtures could use either electricity or gas.


When I learned about a nearby candy company that is more than a hundred years old, I had to stop. I bought a bag of Red Hots, which Schimpff’s has been making making since they opened in 1891, and downed a root beer float at one of those cool tables. Those may be Coca-Cola napkins, but it’s root beer in the glass.

Skirmish at Dogwood Pass

I first heard of this faux town in southern Ohio a couple of weeks ago when someone reported on a visit there in an online travel group.  Dogwood Pass began as a man-cave-style retreat for Mike Montgomery and his buddies, but has grown to be a whole lot more. The place was used to raise funds for a seriously ill child in 2012, and the practice has been repeated annually, with an event benefiting a different child each time.

Ideas kept coming, and the place has become a year-round attraction, with something going on at least twice a month, and much more around Halloween and Christmas. When I learned that one of the big Civil War-themed events would take place on June 6 and 7, I thought it would be a good time to check it out. When it aligned with perfect weather, I knew it.

The three dozen or more buildings that make up the town sure look like authentic 19th-century structures, and there is even a boot hill for the truly permanent residents.

Storefronts and wooden crosses are definitely not the only thing to look at. Among the less static attractions are the Roy Rogers Memory Museum, the g-g-g-g-granddaughter of Little Turtle, Buildings, and a hard-working village smithy.

Two Civil War reenactments were scheduled, and as the time for the first one approached, Dogwood Pass founder and owner Mike Montgomery told spectators a little about his man-cave’s wild transformation and the upcoming visit by Morgan’s Raiders. Everyone should stay behind the safety rope, he explained, to avoid getting “run over, shot, or killed”. This was especially important today, he said, because “It’s too hot for anyone to dig a hole to put you in.”

The town folk remained calm and it was business as usual until word arrived that Morgan was on his way.

The town cannon was fired as the raiders reach the edge of town but it was just wasn’t enough. Confederate troops were soon in the town square.

In 1863, Morgan’s Raiders worked their way through many small towns in southern Indiana and Ohio looking for horses, food, or anything else the could use. On Saturday, reenactors did the same in Dogwood Pass, and for a time were in complete control of the town.

It was short lived, however. Before long, United States troops appeared and cleared the town of the intruders.

Of course, not all of them left. Then, after a moment to let folks take in the scene and consider what they had just witnessed, the command “resurrect” brought everyone dispatched during the melee back upright. The reenactors eventually joined in formation and all the participating units were introduced. I regret that I can’t recall and share their identities. Many had traveled quite some distance and every one of them added something to a very impressive operation.

An even bigger battle was planned for the afternoon but I left after peace was restored in the town. The event continues today, with what I believe are repeats of both reenactments. I’m sorry that this is being published too late for any but the nearest neighbors to use that information but encourage everyone to check out the Dogwood Schedule and plan a future visit. It’s quite impressive.

USS Cincinnati Memorial

The USS Cincinnati Cold War Memorial Peace Pavilion officially opened yesterday. It’s an addition to Voice of America Park in West Chester, OH. There was a reception at the site on Friday evening, and a flag-raising ceremony on Saturday morning, with about 140 sailors who once served aboard the boat present. Both were private events. 1:00 was the announced time for the public opening, but that seems not to have been strictly enforced. I arrived about a quarter till and there were plenty of people already walking around the skeleton-style full-size replica of the submarine. It had rained most of the morning and it seems likely that things were a little wet at the earlier ceremonies, but around noon the clouds started to clear a little and it was dry all the time I was there.

The nuclear-powered USS Cincinnati (SSN-693) was commissioned in 1978 and was in service until 1996. She was nearly 362 feet long and displaced about 6,250 tons. That is big enough to be called a ship and that is the word I initially used in the previous paragraph when referring to past crew members. But something made me question that, and an online search let me know that submarines are, by tradition, typically referred to as boats.

I have some vague (and apparently false) memories of talk about parking the complete submarine on the Cincinnati riverfront, but that was never a real possibility. A request was made, but the Navy wasn’t about to put a nuclear powered ship (or boat) into private hands. However, when the sub was scheduled for scrapping, memorial organizers did manage to get the rudder (in the previous paragraph), the conning tower, the auxiliary engine (a.k.a. Big Red Machine), and a piece of the hull.

There is some impressive signage throughout the site explaining the project and the workings of the submarine. There are plans to add educational interactive displays in the future.

There was evidence of the previous night’s reception (e.g., leftover very tasty cookies) inside the site’s only building along with several USS Cincinnati related artifacts and photos. I have a hunch that many of these will be included in more permanent displays as time permits.

Unsure of what crowd and weather conditions would be this weekend, I grabbed some pictures when I drove by about two weeks ago. Everything was pretty much in place except the signs. Until the rain stopped while I was on my way to the park, I thought there was a pretty good chance they would be all I would have for this post. I am sure happy that’s not the case, but figured I might as well share a couple shots without tents or people.

Loveland Museum Center

Saturday was not the first time I’ve visited the Loveland Museum Center, but earlier visits happened long enough ago that this website did not exist. They were, in fact, long enough ago that I remember almost nothing about them. To be entirely honest, I don’t remember half as much as I should from Saturday’s visit. To illustrate, I met three extremely friendly and helpful staff members while I was there, but the only one whose name I remember is the lady who guided me through the exhibits and supplied tons of information: Nancy. The main museum building is known as the Bonaventure Hoise. It was built in 1862 by Dr. John S. Law. It was the home and office of Dr. Frank S. Lever into the 1950s. Apparently, Bonaventure was the name of an owner between the two doctors.

I don’t believe any of the building’s current content is original, but what is there is appropriate and interesting. A placard identifies the refrigerator as a General Electric “Monitor Top”, and says the name came from its resemblance to the gun turret of the Civil War ironclad, USS Monitor. I’d heard the name before, though not the explanation. I had my doubts, but it does make sense, and the internet seems to support it.

There is an impressive collection of guns and a display about a log cabin that I’ll have more on later. The large document on the left side of the third picture grants eleven hundred acres of land on the Little Miami River to Colonel Thomas Paxton. It is signed by President John Adams. This led to the founding of the village of Paxton, which eventually became Loveland.

During restoration, the name of paperhanger R.W. Prendergast was uncovered and preserved. It was placed there in 1872. It was apparently uncovered and again papered over in 1932 when S.G. Tufts added his name. Upstairs, a bit of wallpaper, thought to possibly be original, is similarly preserved.

That previously mentioned cabin is now on the museum grounds. It was built in 1797, covered over the years with numerous additions, then rediscovered in the 1980s when some remodeling was planned. A placard from that previously pictured display is here, and one from inside the cabin is here. Although they are not directly connected to the cabin, quite a few historic items are displayed inside it. The covered wagon bows against the wall caught my eye, and I snapped a picture, partially so I could mention that I once read that wagon bows were the first commercial product exported from Darke County, OH, my home.

Here is a different view of the cabin and the museum, along with a shot of the modern building containing museum offices and an event space. 

Salty Dog Museum

I have known of the Salty Dog Museum for several years, but had it in my mind that it was open by appointment only. I think it may very well have started out that way. But I recently learned that it is pretty reliably open on Thursdays and Saturdays. On those days, the crew is very likely on site, busy restoring something, with the doors to the two museum buildings unlocked. There’s a decent chance of it being open at other times, and a slight possibility does exist that it won’t be open on a particular Thursday or Saturday. In other words, even though the museum has settled into a fairly consistent two days or more a week schedule, everything on the sign out front remains true.

Had I tried one more door beyond the two I found locked, I’d have been able to step into the museum building filled with cars. As I contemplated my next move, Dan stepped into the sunlight to get a better view of something in his hands. I approached and asked about the museum, and he invited me into the workshop. After casually noting that I was starting at what was the normal end of a museum tour, he told me about the 1917 Cincinnati Fire Department ladder wagon currently being restored along with the “tractor” that eventually replaced the horses that pulled it originally.

Then Dan introduced me to museum co-founder Mark Radtke, who gave me a tour of highlights before letting me loose to wander at will. I’ve seen Mark in a video or two with Ron Miller, the museum’s other founder and the founder of Ron’s Machine Shop. Ron died in 2023, and I really regret not getting here while he was still around. As you can see, Mark graciously agreed to a photo after leading me through the proper door into the auto section. Before we stepped out of the workshop, I got to watch Mark and some of the others dig through a foot-thick catalog, then do some back-of-the-envelope calculations involving IDs, ODs, and probably some other Ds, too, to determine exactly which fitting to order for some piece being restored. Seeing how much that group enjoyed what they were doing, then seeing Ron’s enthusiasm for the collection of vehicles and paraphernalia he and Ron have put together, sure put me in the right mood for looking it over.

We returned to the other building, where Mark went back to work, and I went off exploring. The museum started with cars, with the fire engines coming along later. Apparently, however, once they started coming along, they really came along. The number and quality of the firefighting vehicles here is phenomenal.

Ahrens-Fox was a Cincinnati-based builder of fire engines. That no doubt accounts for many of their vehicles being displayed in the museum.

When there’s that much firefighting equipment around, there’s bound to be more than a few ladders. Many are displayed on engines and trailers, and there is also a wall filled with them. Those not lying flat against that wall could present something of a hazard, but Salty Dog does a good job of making them visible.

I noticed this rock waterer and asked about it when Mark and I were walking between the two display areas. It was their answer to the Genius of Water on Cincinnati’s Fountain Square, he explained. Then he demonstrated its remote control. I snapped this picture as I headed back to the car display building. Ain’t it wonderful what a group of engineers and mechanics can accomplish with just a few spare parts?

You may have spotted this car in the background of the earlier photo of Mark. Although it was not the start of building or collecting cars for either of them, this car might mark the beginning of the Miller-Radtke collaboration that led to the museum. In 2008, the pair went to Bonneville as spectators, but ended up as an impromptu crew. They also ended up hooked. They built this car and captured two Bonneville Salt Flats land speed records with it. There are some details on its Ault Park Concours placard.

There are several more race cars next to the Bonneville car, and a slightly different sort of race car sits a short distance away. It’s the 1915 Ford Model T that Ron Miller drove to victory in the 2001 Montana 500. The 1911 T in the third picture isn’t a race car, but it does look rather racy, and I’m rather fond of the after-market hood ornament.

Looking back from the other end of the building will give you an idea of just how many cars it contains, and it might give you an idea of just how much these guys like Fords. It’s not all Fords, though. Among the “off brands” on display are a 1908 Schacht, a 1902 Holsman, and a 1932 Chrysler. There are even a few motorcycles available for viewing.

Crosby, Stills, and Nash said it first:

Will you come see me Thursdays and Saturdays?
What have you got to lose?
          Suite: Judy Blue Eyes, 1969

Warbirds Revisited

I first visited the Tri-State Warbird Museum in the pre-blog days of 2010, when this website used things called odments to deal with non-trip topics. The oddment for that 2010 visit, which is here, attracted a couple of visitors recently, and that prompted me to reread it myself. The first paragraph mentions that both the Warbird Museum and another museum visited the same day, the Railway Museum of Greater Cincinnati, were open only on Wednesdays and Saturdays. That stuck with me so that when I was looking for something to do on a Wednesday, the Warbirds naturally came to mind.

Nearly all the airplanes on display are from World War II, including this unlikely-looking pair. Flying the Boeing-Stearman bi-wing was relatively simple. It was the first airborne step for many new military pilots. The Piper L-4H Grasshopper was the military version of the extremely popular Cub. Its ability to fly low and slow made it very useful in training, observation, medical evacuation, and more.

These three probably more closely match your idea of WWII fighting aircraft. Like the Stearman, the bright yellow North American AT-6D was a trainer, but it was used for more advanced maneuvers, such as aircraft landings. The twin-engined Beechcraft TC-45H Expeditor was originally designed as a civilian craft but was adopted by the military as a versatile transport plane. North American P-51 Mustangs were very effective as bomber escorts and served in every theater of WWII.

This North American TB-25N Mitchell might be the museum’s biggest star. It is my biggest memory, in any case. That could be because about two years after my 2010 museum visit, I saw this and 19 other B-25s in flight at the Doolittle Raiders 70th reunion. The sight of all those big planes was pretty impressive, and the sound was incredible.

ADDENDUM 27-Aug-2014: I somehow failed to mention how friendly and helpful the volunteers at the museum were, but I now get a second chance. As I originally put this post together, I noticed that the nose art on the B-25 had changed since my 2010 visit, and I reached out to the museum via email to see why. I now recall being told that a couple of the museum’s planes had appeared in movies and TV shows, but I had not paid much attention. As I quickly learned, the B-25 name change came from a movie role with another local star. The story is here.

A couple of the museum’s planes were not at home Wednesday, but every plane that was there was capable of flying except one. This Goodman Corsair is in the process of being restored, with some assembly required before it leaves the hangar.

On the way back to the museum’s front door, I climbed to the balcony to get an overhead shot then snapped one of the flight simulator area on the way down.

This isn’t a warbird, but it is the sort of vehicle my Dad piloted during the war. He was a courier. Every time I see a Jeep from that era, I think of one of the few stories he ever told of those days. During the Battle of the Bulge, snow covered the ground, which was where most soldiers slept. He considered himself lucky to have his Jeep to sleep in. He could even lie down on his side between the seats, “but I had to stand up to turn over.”

Returning to the Scene

In the days of my youth, Greenville, OH, had two movie theaters. I’m sure there were differences between the two, but I recall them as interchangeable. I know that I saw new movies like The Vikings and Ben Hur at these theaters, but I can’t remember which. I do remember that I saw Gone with the Wind at the State Theater when it was re-released for the centennial of the Civil War in 1961. I also remember that the Wayne Theater was where I saw Bambi. Oh boy, do I remember.

The 1942 animated feature has been re-released multiple times. One of those was in 1957, when the Wayne Theater must have looked pretty much the same as it does in the 1956 photo above. Our parents dropped my sister and me off at the theater with admission money and probably an extra dime for a pop. I was ten; my sister was seven. As hard as it is for some to believe, there really was a time and a place where this was not considered child endangerment. As everyone now knows, Bambi’s mom meets her end fairly early in the movie. That brought my sister to tears. Unable to stop the crying, I eventually headed to the lobby with her. In time, the crying stopped, but Sis had no desire to watch any more of that horrible movie. I, on the other hand, seeing no reason for me to miss out on the big screen entertainment, returned to my seat. At movie’s end, I hastened to the lobby, where, despite assurances she would wait, my sister was nowhere to be seen. She had tired of waiting inside and was standing just outside the theater when Mom and Dad arrived to pick us up. I don’t recall any particular punishment for abandoning my sister in the lobby, but I sure got a lecture.

My attendance at both Greenville theaters dropped to zero once I moved to Cincinnati. The State Theater closed in 1980 and was demolished a few years later. The Wayne Theater divided itself into two screening areas and soldiered on. I made it back inside the Wayne in 2006 when I happened to be in Greenville on the weekend that Cars was released. I had been anticipating the movie, and saw it for the first time at the Saturday matinee. This was still the era of 35mm film. Partway through the showing, the film or projector temporarily malfunctioned, and the house lights were turned on. Kids made up most of the crowd, and they immediately turned to the projectionist and began pointing and laughing. Just like the good old days.

In 2014, the Wayne Theater and three other movie houses owned by Alan Teicher closed. The Wayne found new owners, and there was initially hope for a quick reopening. The need to convert to digital projection was part of the reason for the closure, but additional issues and expenses were soon discovered. The new owners eventually threw in the towel.

Things were looking rather grim for the Wayne when Mike Jones and his family stepped up to save it. Mike and wife, Sherri, have saved other pieces of Greenville history, including St Clair Manor, the home of Henry St. Clair. Mike took on the theater about the time that the COVID pandemic hit. It and related problems, such as supply chain disruptions, interfered with the project, but a complete renovation of the theater was completed in 2023.

In November of 2023, there was a big-time grand opening with Hollywood premier-style searchlights and other major hoopla. I wasn’t there, although I really wanted to be. I had every intention of checking out the resurrected theater ASAP. Within weeks, I thought. Worst case, within a couple of months. After just about two years and four months, I finally made it.

In early 2025, the theater began hosting Senior Movie Days with bargain prices and older movies. Many of the first-run features filling the theater’s normal schedule did not appeal all that much to this old man, and there were scheduling problems with the few that did. It seemed possible that the “classic” nature of Senior Movie Day movies would better match my tastes. They did, but it still took nearly a year for things to click. On Wednesday, a long-time friend, his wife, and an aunt of mine joined a theater-filling crowd of similarly aged folk to watch Casablanca on the big screen.

The renovated theater definitely lived up to all of the good things I’d heard. The concession stand is first class, although none of our group took advantage of it. The lobby is fresh and inviting, with a large copy of the photo at the top of this post prominently displayed. Because I got our tickets and I did not understand the layout, we found ourselves in the front row. Not to worry, as the comfortable recliners positioned us for a proper view even from there. Of all the movie joints, in all the towns, in all the world, I’m glad we walked into this one.


The year 1920 is cast into the front of the theater. I have read that it opened on April 18, 1921. While poking around the internet, I stumbled upon this photo from the Wayne’s first decade. But the photo is only part of the reason I’ve tacked this paragraph onto the end of the post. I also learned that the Wayne Theater had an American Fotoplayer when it opened. I followed that tangent to a number of videos of Fotoplayers being played, and believe you deserve to see one. Check out Stars and Stripes Forever. Not every silent movie was accompanied by a prim schoolmarm on an upright piano.

International Peace Museum
Dayton, OH

Here’s another not-new-to-me museum. My personal history with the International Peace Museum is a bit different than that with the Harmon Museum or Behringer-Crawford Museum in that an earlier visit was documented. That first visit took place more than a year before this blog was born, when this sort of thing was covered as an Oddment. The Oddment entry for my 2009 visit is here.

Another difference between this museum and those others is that the Peace Museum has moved since I last visited. It now shares a building with a Ludlow Street address, and that is how I entered. But the museum extends all the way through its half of the first floor and can be accessed from Courthouse Square. That’s the side pictured in the opening photo. A straight-on view of that mural is here, and of the adjacent text panel here.

The lobby was set up for a presentation scheduled for later in the day. The column to the left of the first photo is called the Peach Pole. Among the images covering it, the word “peace” appears in the twenty most commonly spoken languages in Dayton. Hand-drawn panels hanging overhead make up an exhibit named “Bridges”. The lobby also contains a pretty cool neon sign.

The Anti-War Gallery was the first room I entered off the lobby. Most of the artwork is from Beryl Bernay and J. Kadar Cannon. The sculpture in the middle of the room is by Lori Park.

The founding of the International Peace Museum in Dayton in 2004 was at least partially an outgrowth of the city being the site of the signing of the Dayton Peace Accords in 1995, and the museum contains a sizable exhibit devoted to that event. The accords did end the violence of the Bosnian War, but, like so many agreements before and since, left lots of problems unsolved.

An equal amount of space is devoted to the North Atlantic Treaty Organization. Last year’s 75th anniversary is noted, along with many of its peachkeeping successes during those years.

This guitar is the only item I distinctly remember from my 2009 visit. As described here, it belonged to conscientious objector  Ted Studebaker, who was killed in Vietnam in 1971 while helping farmers there. Studebaker was from nearby West Milton, OH. 

Behringer-Crawford Museum
Covington, Kentucky

When I reported on my visit to the Harmon Museum in Lebanon, OH, and mentioned that other museums not entirely new to me were candidates for future blog posts, the Behringer-Crawford Museum in Covington, KY, was very much on my mind. I’ve been there before and counted its pleasant setting in Devou Park among reasons to return. Friday was not quite the perfect spring day I’d been thinking of for a visit, but it was sunny, pretty darn warm (60°+) for mid-February, and I was in the area.

The attendant indicated that there really wasn’t a suggested sequence for exploring the museum. I decided to start at the top and work my way down. The visitor guide discusses just three floors, but the elevator goes to four. Some offices are located here, along with a play/learning area for young children.

There are displays, including the upper deck of a USS Wake Robin mockup, in an adjacent area overlooking third-floor displays identified in the guide. They are reached by descending the spiral stairs or by elevator. The Wake Robin was built in 1926 as a lighthouse tender, became part of the Coast Guard fleet in 1938, then spent several of its later years as the USS Nightmare, a Halloween-themed attraction on Covington’s riverfront. Folks with a good imagination might see some similarity between the third picture and this blog’s page-topping image of the Delta Queen making its final departure from Cincinnati under the real Roebling Bridge.

A peek through one of the round windows on that level shows a bit of Devou Park Golf Course and offers a sense of the pleasant setting mentioned earlier. Beside it are some of the museum’s original displays of the area’s natural history.

I knew they had to exist somewhere, but commodes of the past aren’t displayed all that often. Child-sized ones seem particularly rare. Just across the hall, the actual available-for-use restrooms have a rustic yet inviting appearance.

The third floor is also where temporary exhibits are displayed. This space is currently occupied by “Treasures From the Attic: 250 Years of Fashion and Furniture”. The middle photo is of Lee Meriwether’s costume from an appearance in Star Trek, along with her 1955 Miss America trophy. For some reason, both costume and trophy are currently in the possession of Augusta, KY, native and 2000 Miss America Heather French, as noted here. The gown in the third photo was worn by 1948 Miss America Bebe Shopp.

I took no notes regarding this furniture or this fashion, but each is properly described by placards at the museum.

Among the few pieces of furniture that I did have any thoughts on were these home entertainment systems. The one on the right is quite similar to the one I cranked up my Beatles and Dave Clark 5 LPs on when Dad wasn’t home.

The museum has a nice display on the development of roads in the area. Yes, that’s a Dixie Highway map in the lower part of the information panel. There is a Buick to watch movies (actually old TV commercials) in, and a Studebaker (once the “World’s Largest Vehicle Manufacturer”) hanging from the ceiling.

Obviously, the museum is a first-class operation with outstanding exhibits on the history of northern Kentucky. Ironically, its most infamous exhibit is a two-headed calf that was actually born in Ohio. It is certainly a most unusual creature. The placard in front of the case is here, and the paper inside the case is here.

The calf is there fulltime as are all those informative displays of rivers, roads, rails, runways, and the rest of northern Kentucky. “Treasures From the Attic” is there through August 9, 2026.

It’s a Mad, Mad, Mad, Mad Exhibition

Almost from the minute the Cincinnati Art Museum announced that What, Me Worry? The Art and Humor of MAD Magazine was on the way; I have been part of a group numbering 2 to 6+ that made and scrapped multiple plans to attend. At last, three of us made it on Friday. We all had Mad Magazine memories. Two of us were almost exactly the same age, with memories from the late 1950s through the 1960s and maybe a little beyond. The third member of the group was some three decades younger with memories correspondingly offset. The exhibit covers Mad from its 1952 beginning, which means we each saw things we remembered, even if we didn’t remember everything.

Of course, one thing that everybody remembers is Alfred E. Neuman. He first appeared in the magazine in 1954 and soon became a near constant presence on the cover. There is definitely a connection with the 1914 “Original Optimist” drawing, but the image goes back even further. The opening “Will worry for food” image is much newer. It is the October 2009 cover, which I don’t believe I had seen previously, but it sure fits what I would expect from Mad in the twenty-first century.


Mad started out as a comic book, then became a magazine with this cover in July 1955. Note that Alfred E. Neuman appears in the banner at the top, although he had not yet been identified by name. Among the changes this brought was the ability to satirize government officials, which was something disallowed by the Comics Code Authority of 1954.

Don Martin was an absolute favorite of mine, and seeing his artwork for the cover of 1962’s Don Martin Steps Out! was a real treat. His “PAY TOLL FIFTY FEET” from the March 1980 magazine back cover is a true classic.

This was the biggest surprise for me, though maybe it should not have been. I know of Frank Frazetta from his outstanding work in fantasy and science fiction, but did not realize that he had ever been connected with Mad. This is one of three back covers he did for the magazine, and he also did one cover. “Early One Morning in the Jungle” was in the October 1966 issue, so it is possibly the first Frank Frazetta piece of art I ever saw.

One of the things Mad Magazine did best was satirizing movies and TV shows. It also had a knack for slipping jokes into comic strips that had nothing to do with the story and which (at least in my case) might not even be caught until the second or third reading. This spoof of “Wonder Woman” is an example of both. Diana Banana (Woman Wonder) and Steve Adore engage in a silhouetted display of affection near signs pointing to “Proving Grounds”, “Inproving Grounds”, “Coffee Grounds”, etc.

A long-running feature that first appeared during my peak Mad infatuation was the fold-in. Presented as the opposite of fold-outs from Playboy and others, fold-ins began appearing in 1964. As I looked over these framed examples, I wondered at the lack of “folded” versions, but was relieved to see a rack of creased pages on the wall. Some of the folding had probably not been all that precise, and certainly wasn’t after a bunch of repeats, but they all worked just fine to reveal the “real” pictures. If you want to do some digital “folding-in” on your own, there are some interactive examples here.

The exhibit is organized in a loose chronological sequence, and I was starting to get concerned about finding something on one of my favorite features. “Spy vs. Spy” came along in 1961, and I was well into the second half of the exhibit before these popped up. It’s pretty fuzzy, but there’s a slightly more readable version of that second image here. Incidentally, small sketches often appeared in the margins of the magazine, and that is sort of mimicked here with sketches on the walls, like the one with both spies in a bomb. Antonio Prohías, a Cuban refugee, originated the strip and drew it until 1987. The first pictured strip is his from March 1983. Peter Kuper picked up the strip full-time in 1997 and switched to color in 2001. The second pictured strip is his from June 2004. That one doesn’t work for me. That’s not in any way a dig on Kuper’s talent. I remember black-and-white drawings of a black character and a white character, each believing they were the good guy, even though it was starkly evident there was no difference between them at all. I suppose that’s still there with colored backgrounds, but it somehow seems less obvious.

What, Me Worry? The Art and Humor of MAD Magazine is here through March 1. It’s even free on Thursday evenings between 5:00 and 8:00..