For the third week in a row, I’m posting about visiting a new-to-me museum. The first of the three (Small Wonders (And More)) was triggered by an online reference and the second (Miami Valley Veterans Museum) by a friend’s spontaneous suggestion but this one is completely on me. I say that I use canned posts here when my life is either too busy or too boring. My life was not too busy this week but, without some purposeful action on my part, it would have been too boring and I’d have posted something from the warehouse. That purposeful action was little more than typing “Cincinnati museums” into a search engine and scanning the results.
Quite a few lists turned up, and there were several museums that appeared on nearly all of them. One came from TripAdvisor, one of my favorite providers of crowd-sourced lists. The Greater Cincinnati Police Museum is currently number one on their list of Cincinnati Museums when sorted by “traveler ranking” and sixth when sorted by “traveler favorites”. More importantly for my purposes, it was the only top twelve entry by either sorting method that I had not visited.
I soon corrected that and soon learned that those high marks at TripAdvisor were well deserved. The museum is on the second floor and, while things are well-marked outside, figuring that out took a little doing once inside. A sign that stood in the lobby had recently been stolen and there was universal agreement when I commented, “That sure was ballsy.” Potential issues with the free on-street parking in front of the museum are avoided by displaying a dated tag provided with admission. When I started toward the elevator with my tag, a fellow whose name I failed to get volunteered to take it down for me. I was impressed before I even looked at the first exhibit.
“This is why the museum exists,” Ed, my guide, told me when we did reach that first exhibit. I had seen several pictures of Handsome over the years so had some idea of what he meant. Cincinnati’s first “police dog” was rescued from the city’s rough and tumble riverfront in the last years of the nineteenth century and served the department until his death in 1911. Handsome’s story, including numerous captures, is told here.
The word “Greater” in the museum’s name is significant. The museum honors not only the City of Cincinnati Police Department but many other law enforcement agencies in southern Ohio, southeast Indiana, and northern Kentucky. It first opened in 2002 on 8th Street on the west side of downtown then moved to its current Reading Road location in 2015. At the time of the move, bricks paving a walkway and inscribed with donor names were rescued and now line this hallway beneath rows of historic photos and certificates.
Most if not all of the people working at the museum are retired police officers. Both Ed and Rick, who split guiding me on what was essentially a personal tour, were. Ed mentioned that he had spent a few years on a SWAT team as we looked over the associated display. Rick may have also spent time with SWAT but I don’t know that. I do know that both of these guys were pretty familiar with much of the gear on display.
All police gear displayed in the museum is obsolete but some things are more obsolete than others. When the Civil War ended, Cincinnati was able to pick up plenty of surplus uniforms at a great price with only a change of buttons required to outfit the police. Alexander Bell patented the telephone in March of 1876. In September 1879, the first police telephone exchange in the world went live in Cincinnati.
Of course, there are lots of guns (all disabled) displayed in the museum along with other tools of the trade such as breathalizers, radar guns, and fingerprinting equipment. That communication console is a little more modern than the one my cousins frequently staffed when their dad was a police chief in Indiana but looks pretty crude when compared to the multi-screened internet-connected rig that my son operates as a police dispatcher in California.
There is one notable exception to the claim that everything in the museum is obsolete. Posters for the FBI’s “Ten Most Wanted Fugitives” are kept current. Seeing them here reminded me of the days when reading these was what you did while waiting in line to buy stamps or get a package weighed. One of several reasons that they are no longer displayed is that the wall space is better used to promote the purchase of commemorative stamps and the like. The posters are still there but they are now kept in a binder behind the counter available for “on demand” viewing. Just like on the FBI website.
The pictured magazine is kept in protective custody but there is another copy nearby where the story of “Cincinnati’s Model Police Force” of 1957 can be accessed. The Greater Cincinnati Police Museum is open from 10:00 to 4:00 on Tuesday, Thursday, and Saturday.
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 (
