Tag Archives: History

A Capitol Encampment

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I have already taken advantage of two Ohio Goes to the Movies events, and I doubt those will be the last. But Ohio is doing a lot more than showing movies to mark the semiquincentennial of the signing of the United States Declaration of Independence. One of the many events organized by America 250 – Ohio was something called American Revolution in the Ohio Country, which took place Wednesday on the grounds of the state capitol in Columbus. Ohio was not a charter member of the USA, but we did join up fairly early on. Plus Fort Laurens near Bolivar, OH, was built and occupied during the American Revolution, and the Battle of Picawey, near Springfield, OH, is considered part of that war. Wednesday’s encampment did not attempt to recreate any specific event, but to offer a glimpse at life in the 1770s.

It was a few minutes past the 10:00 start time when I reached the plaza on the west side of the Capitol. I’d parked a couple of blocks to the east, and this was what I saw when the gathering first came into view. I sensed at once that I was late. I heard but did not see cannons or muskets firing, and may have missed some sort of opening ceremony.

Shortly after I reached the open space beyond the tents, the men who, I assume, had been making the booms I heard closed ranks and marched away. I would get to hear and see these fellows and others do a lot more booming before the day was over, but for now, a shot of them passing by was all I got.

But I did get to see the day’s first performance from Heritage Fife and Drums in its entirety. They started at the far side of the plaza lawn, then marched up to the crowd, where their leader enthusiastically introduced each song.

More music followed. This music was recorded and played through speakers so these energetic folks could dance to it. The second picture is of a quadrille (4 couples, 8 people), which Americans in the next century turned into square dancing with cowboy boots and no French accent.

Having read that there would be “samples of food from the revolutionary time”, I anticipated things unfamiliar and bizarre, but the most bizarre thing about the offerings was that stuff that I thought quite modern was being served in the 18th century. When I mentioned my surprise, the lady tending to the “Mini Beef in Crust”, which I picked as one of my two samples, told me that “Swedish Ham Meatballs” had been served at Mount Vernon, and that “Shrimp & Grits”, my other sample, had been popular in the Carolinas back in the day.

Inside one of the tents, a fellow explained 18th-century maps and mapmaking. There were also displays of more common items of the period.

While I was listening to the fifers & drummers, watching the dancers, and sampling the samples, the soldiers had been relaxing and answering questions from the curious. Now they lined up and began marching back to the open lawn. It was about to get noisy.

After marching to the far side of the lawn, both the militia and the uniformed regulars fired several volleys. (Note that the day this is being posted, April 19, 2026, is the 251st anniversary of men dressed and armed much like those in the first photo confronting British troops at Lexington and Concord.) Then the regulars begin moving toward the crowd. Half the group marched several paces ahead of the others and fired. They would then reload while the other half advanced and fired. Then, after crossing much of the lawn in this fashion, they all lowered their bayonets and charged,

Following that bayonet charge, the reenactors marched back to the tents for a bit of a break, but eventually returned to roll out the big guns. Here‘s a better look at the thin white object tucked into the hat of the fellow standing in the center of the third photo. I spotted him smoking the pipe just moments after watching another reenactor semi-stealthily puffing on a cigarette. I approached and commented about how much better the pipe looked. Yes, he agreed, he tried to appear accurate, and, yes, it was clay, and yes, he had made it himself.

Of course, any smoke produced by hand-made clay pipes or machine-rolled cigarettes was nothing to that produced by the battery of 3-pound cannons. Perhaps this, too, is part of trying to appear accurate.

Those samples of delicacies from 250 years ago were not the first things I had to eat on Wednesday. In the not-too-distant past, from a source I can’t remember, I’d heard of a great-sounding breakfast spot in Columbus named Katalina’s. I may or may not have known that Katalina’s had appeared on Diners, Drive-Ins and Dives. In any case, I had not seen the episode. If I had, I would have known that it was recorded at Katarina’s Too. I went to the original on Pennsylvania Ave. There is now a Katarina’s Tres also. I’ll try to keep an open mind, but I can’t imagine that either of the others is anywhere near as cool as the original.

Another thing I could have learned from the D, D and D episode was how to eat the signature and absolutely delicious Pancake Balls. I briefly considered pouring the real Maple syrup on the Nutella-filled balls like I would on a flat pancake, but decided that probably wouldn’t work. I proceeded to tear pieces from the balls with fingers and fork, and dip the impaled pieces into the syrup. I’ve now seen the video and know that holding a ball in your fingers, dipping it into the syrup, then taking a bite, is what the cool kids do. Next time, I’ll be cool, too. I was already cool enough to use my fingers to eat the best bacon I’ve ever met.

Movie Review
Janice Meredith
E. Mason Hopper

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Like February’s showing of The Wizard of Oz in Wilmington, this showing of Janice Meredith was part of Ohio Goes to the Movies. And like my review of that event, this post is not really a review of the movie, but of the overall experience. On the other hand, since I’m quite certain that readers are nowhere near as familiar with Janice Meredith as they are with that Oz movie, and because it is pretty impressive, I’ll not ignore the film completely.

The venue for the showing was the Arcanum Opera House, built in 1889. Arcanum is a small town not far from Greenville, where actor Walter Law spent his formative years before moving to Dayton. Law appears in Janice Meredith, which is the connection to Ohio that led to its inclusion in the Ohio Goes to the Movies schedule.

The building served its original purpose until 1928, then played a variety of roles before being put to use housing Arcanum’s village offices. When the village government planned to construct a new building for their offices and move out, the opera house was in serious danger. The construction did happen, and the opera house was vacated in 2020, but a group was formed in 2019 to save it. The Arcanum Preservation Society has plans to restore the building and has made some serious progress in that direction.

Walter Law appeared in more than 40 movies during his career. His earliest film work was with Fox Film in New Jersey. He moved to Hollywood in 1920 and continued his career there. He most often appeared in supporting roles, and that is the case here. Law plays General Charles Lee, one of General Washington’s subordinates. That was essentially the entire description of his character I had on Friday, and I did not spot any reasonable candidates during the opera house screening. Although the quality isn’t nearly as good as what we saw on Friday, the movie is available on YouTube, so, armed with a somewhat better description of the character, I made a serious attempt to find him by picking out and studying scenes with Washington. No luck. I know he’s in there somewhere, but I can’t tell you where. I can tell you where that basket on the left side of the picture ended up. I was there with friends Terry and Sue. Everyone was given numbered tickets when we arrived, and Sue’s number won her a nice movie-watching kit.

Prior to Friday, about all I knew of the film was that it was a romance set during the American Revolution. Just before Friday’s showing, I learned it was “a little longer than most silent films”, and later learned that meant 11 reels or 140 minutes. But it wasn’t just its length that set the movie apart. It was a true epic with scenes of big battles and social gatherings, and extended shots tracking galloping horses, including Paul Revere’s. There is notable comic relief aided by W.C. Fields’ first motion picture appearance. Following the battle at Lexington, three of the wounded — or maybe ghosts of those killed — arise and form the trio of Archibald Willard’s Spirit of ’76 and march toward the camera while subsequent battles appear below them.

By the film’s end, I could not help but think this was the Gone with the Wind of the silent era. Like the Civil War epic released just fifteen years later, Janice Meredith features the beautiful daughter of a wealthy landowner, in love with an unconventional fellow whom her father definitely does not approve of, all while the war rages around her. It’s not entirely the same, though. When Janice Meredith ends, its protagonists are about to be married rather than separated, and this time the rebels win.

Book Review
The Last Ride of the Pony Express
Will Grant

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I have read and reviewed more than a few books about modern retracings of historic routes, including some I was personally responsible for. Almost all of them involved automobiles, with the result that those doing the retracing typically traveled significantly faster than the route’s original users. For the original travelers on the route that Will Grant followed in 2019, speed was far and away the main consideration. Relay riders moved mail over the nearly 2,000-mile-long route in ten days. Grant’s main consideration was safety. About 75 horses were ridden to near exhaustion in each Pony Express run. Grant’s safety and the success of his ride depended on two horses covering the entire distance. Will, Chicken Fry, and Badger got to know each other quite well during the 142 days they spent together during The Last Ride of the Pony Express.

I’ve been to the stable-turned-museum where Grant and all of those Pony Express riders began their journies west, and I have crossed the Missouri River at Saint Joseph, but it somehow never registered with me just how close that stable was to the riverbank. The stable and the river are less than half a mile apart. When I finally realized that, my first thought was to question why the Pony Express did not just place its eastern terminus on the other side of the river. It was a dumb question that I almost instantly answered. The Missouri River marked the border of the United States in 1860. St. Joseph was on the frontier. Pony Express riders began their westward dash with a ferry ride. Will Grant began his unhurried retrace with a police escort over a bridge.

Grant was very familiar with horses from a lifetime of riding, and I suspect he was more familiar than most with the history of the Pony Express and the geography of the American West. But he became a lot more familiar with these subjects as he prepared for his ride, and he shares that knowledge throughout the book. He also shares what I see as a sense of awe at the logistics of managing the hundreds of horses and men involved in the Pony Express. Many of us see only a galloping horse and rider when thinking of the Pony Express. Some may also think of brave station masters. Grant thinks and writes about all the men, and probably a few women, responsible for a constant supply of water, hay, and other necessities to those isolated stations, for the speedy breaking of horses to be ridden, and for all the other behind-the-scenes details of keeping an operation this big and spread out functioning.

The lack of that widespread support organization might be just as big a difference between Grant’s ride and those of 1860 as the speed of travel. Grant had the benefit of modern resources, including a sometimes-connected cell phone, and numerous generous routeside residents provided meals, showers, and places to camp. But he was basically self-contained and, despite several invitations, never slept in someone’s home. Surroundings ranged from too much civilization to essentially none at all. The severe isolation of parts of the trail is illustrated by Grant arranging for six caches of water and hay to be placed along the route through the Great Salt Lake Desert to make up for the lack of staffed and provisioned Pony Express stations.

The routeside residents also provide conversation. Sometimes history is explored, and sometimes the topic is something very current. Some subjects, like corporate ranches, wind farms, and wild mustangs, have the potential to become political, but Grant somehow manages to avoid that. Not only in his real-life conversations but in his informative writings. He’s really good at sharing facts, and maybe even describing a couple of viewpoints, without letting his own opinion distort them. In fact, most opinions held by others are reported with any rough edge they might have had removed.

I enjoyed encountering place names I recognized. Just as parts of the Pony Express route followed paths marked earlier by wagon wheels, feet, and hooves, some of it would later be followed by the tires of automobiles. Saint Joseph, MO, where it started, is where the Jefferson Highway and the Pikes Peak Ocean to Ocean Highway crossed. I recognized one of Grant’s camping spots, Hollenberg Station, from having stopped there while driving the PPOO. Farther west, the Lincoln Highway has led me to Dugway, Fish Springs, and other Pony Express-connected places that Grant mentions.

At Willow Spring Station in Callao, UT, another place the Lincoln Highway has taken me, Grant pauses for a day to rest himself and the horses. The last of his arranged caches lies between Callao and the stateline and beyond that, Nevada and California. There was still a long way to go, but the big desert was essentially behind him, and the day of rest may have prompted a look back. “No one, I thought, knows the ride of a Pony Express rider, but I’d come pretty close. My time in the desert, free from the distractions of population or vegetation or paved roads, had revealed what no book had conveyed, what I could not fully articulate, but what I knew was a past informant to our current psyche.”

On September 22, 2019, 142 days after crossing that bridge in Saint Joseph, Will Grant rode Chicken Fry up to the Pony Express statue in Sacramento with Badger in tow. The three had surely traveled more than the 1,966 miles said to comprise the actual Pony Express route. I’m still not sure whether I think the Pony Express was insane or brilliant. Crossing a 1,400-mile-wide gap in our country on horseback once in ten days is an impressive accomplishment. Establishing a system to do that in both directions twice a week is incredibly so. It is commonly estimated that something like 500 horses were used. Grant’s not buying it. He thinks a number between 1,500 and 2,000 is more believable.

I doubt I have ever spent much more than an hour on horseback at any one time, and I certainly don’t intend to try it now. I gained a slight sense of what multiple days in the saddle might be like without risking snakebites, saddle sores, or wild mustang attacks, and that’s close enough for me.

The Last Ride of the Pony Express: My 2,000-mile Horseback Journey into the Old West, Will Grant, Little, Brown and Company (June 6, 2023), 6.3 x 9.55 inches, 336 pages, ISBN ‎ 978-0316422314
Available through Amazon.

Returning to the Scene

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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.

Behringer-Crawford Museum
Covington, Kentucky

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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.

American Sign Museum: 20 Years

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Recently, after reviewing a pair of books documenting the first one hundred years of Route 66, I published a post about my own, somewhat shorter, experience with the highway. That post is here. The origins of this post are much the same. While reading and reviewing American Sign Museum: Celebrating 25 Years, I naturally recalled my own experience with the subject of the book. As I noted in that review, I first became aware of the American Sign Museum when it opened in Walnut Hills in 2005. My memory is that I became a member soon after, but receipts indicate that might not have happened until 2010. If that’s true (and I’d like to think it isn’t), shame on me.

The picture of the ribbon-cutting at the April 28, 2005, grand opening at the top of this page is similar to a much better one appearing on page 97 of the 25-year book. The museum opened before this blog existed, and things that were not road trips appeared as Oddments. The Oddment for the 2005 opening is here. That’s the Katie Laur Band in the picture at left. While putting this post together, I found a couple of unpublished pictures from that day that I think deserve sharing. One is Katie Laur and “Mr Cincinnati” Jim Tarbell chatting as things wound down. The other is of Lenny Diaspro, to whom the 25-year book is dedicated and after whom the museum’s Lenny’ Bar is named. I remember Lenny as a tour guide and more in Camp Washington, but admit to not really being familiar with him at Essex Studios. Obviously, I should have been.

The next time the museum appears on this website is on the second day of a road fan outing called “Madonnas & Signs”. The first day of the trip was spent on the National Old Trails Road with stops at the Indiana and Ohio Madonna of the Trail Monuments. We reached the museum on the second day for a tour with Tod. The journal for this 2009 trip is here.

Sign Museum Entrance - pig and genieThis blog was added to the website in August of 2011, and in January of 2012, the ASM made its first appearance. The occasion was the last hurrah at the Essex Studio location before it was shut down for the move to Camp Washington. A reopening on the seventh anniversary of the April 28 opening in Essex Studios was the target.

The April date turned out to be only slightly overly optimistic. There was a soft opening for members on Friday, June 1, 2012, and a full opening on Saturday. For some unknown reason, even though the blog was obviously up and running, this reopening was covered as an Oddment. It is here.

Fred and Tod at Amrtican Sign MuseumThe museum had been open in its new location for less than a month when I got to show it off to visiting friends. Fred Zander, from Kansas, more or less scheduled a Cincinnati visit to follow the reopening, and the place was easily the highlight of his trip. His day in the Queen City is covered here.

Neonworks at American Sign MuseumJust about a month later, Don Hatch, from Illinois, was in town and anxious to see the expanded museum. Don had been part of the “Madonnas & Signs” group that visited the original location back in ’09. We both enjoyed our first neon tube lighting demonstration in the Neon Works shop attached to the museum. Don’s July 2012 visit is here.

It doesn’t seem likely, but I guess it’s possible that Dinner and a Movie – Cincinnati Style, near the end of January 2015, was the first event I attended at the museum in its new home. The movie was Sign Painters, directed by Faythe Levine & Sam Macon. Dinner was catered by Camp Washington Chili. What’s not to like?

On April 19, 2015, I was back at the museum to celebrate the tenth anniversary of its opening at Essex Studios, which was a little more than a week away. The next day, I attended the twentieth annual butterfly show at Krohn Conservatory. A Ten and Twenty Years in Cincinnati blog post covered both events.

I attended my first Society for Commercial Archeology conference in 2017. It was held in Cincinnati, and the zero lodging cost and almost zero transportation cost made it quite affordable. The SCA marked its fourtieth year with goetta (a Cincinnati treat) sliders at the Sign Museum.

The spring and summer of 2020 were tough on everybody, and that definitely included museums. The COVID-19 pandemic had closed them all, but by mid-summer, three of my local favorites had worked out procedures that allowed them to reopen. The Cincinnati Art Museum reopened in June. The Cincinnati Museum Center and the American Sign Museum reopened in July. I documented my visit on the day of the reopening with a Return of the Signs post. With no lines permitted inside, but hoping there might still be a need for lines, the Sign Museum used the Buma-Shave method to mark an area for a widely spaced line outside.

One of the most fantastic events I’ve ever attended was presented by the museum in June of 2022. The Signmaker’s Circus was a truly outlandish celebration of the tenth anniversary of the move to Camp Washington. Things were really falling into place to allow expansion into the other half of the building. This party took advantage of that situation and was actually sort of a step toward the expansion. The storage area was cleared, and just about every sign in the museum’s possession was hung and illuminated. An entire troupe of circus performers moved into the space so that the image at left is what we saw when the curtains opened.

In addition to the grand openings and anniversary celebrations, the museum has presented quite a number of smaller events. Some have been members-only affairs, like a series of Saturday morning “Coffee with Tod” gatherings, and others were open to all, with some even being streamed live. Here are a couple directly connected to The Signmaker’s Circus. In August 2022, after the circus gear had been cleared out, Tod used a “Coffee with Tod” session to share some of his thinking in placing signs for the event. Of course, many of those were advanced placement for the more formal extension of Main Street. A lot of wall space at the circus had been filled with authentic banners from the 1940s and ’50s. They had all been loaned for the event by David Waller of Boston. In November, while the banners were still hanging at the museum, Walker came to Cincinnati to deliver a presentation on them. I documented Walker’s presentation as Sideshow Signage. Nothing was posted on the “Coffee with Tod” session.

I don’t believe there was ever a time when all of the Sign Museum’s holdings were stored in one place, but for a while, a lot of them were stored in the unoccupied half of the building. Most was moved out for the circus and for the expansion. I had been privileged to peek inside that attached attic a couple of times over the years, and in May 2023, got A Glimpse of ASM’s Attic (detached version) with a special “Coffee with Tod” gathering. The Sign-Painter that opened that post now has a home in the museum, along with many other items seen that day.

In 2024, that expansion I’ve mentioned a time or ten was completed, and I got another ribbon-cutting picture. The ribbon was cut on Friday, July 13, at a member-only event. The bigger and better museum opened to the public on Saturday morning, and so did a Negro Motorist Green Book exhibit at the Freedom Center. I documented them together with New Stuff to Look At. In the post, I mention a preview with the Letterheads still onsite and talking with the fellow working on the Maisonette. In reading the 25-year book, I learned he had died about a year later. I had not noticed the plaque placed in the museum and shown in the book, but I sure do now.

A couple of notable visits to the museum since the expansion were Sign Museum Threefer, which happened shortly after the Frisch’s Mainliner sign was moved into the museum, and A Night at the Museum, where I picked up the book that led to this post. Now I’m all caught up—for a while.

Book Review
Route 66: 100 Years
Jim Hinckley, Editor

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That title may look familiar. If so, one reason might be the similarly named Route 66: The First 100 Years, reviewed here back in June. The world-famous highway will turn a hundred years old on November 11, 2026, and I suspect we will see several more books (and movies and parties and blog posts) with the numbers 66 and 100 in their titles over the next year or two. I will not be purchasing and reviewing every one of those books. One reason I have invested in this pair is that I knew the quality would be good, and one reason for that is I personally know every one of the contributors to both books on one level or another. I sure hope you won’t hold that against them.

Route 66: 100 Years is an anthology edited by Jim Hinckley of Jim Hinckley’s America. There is a chapter for each of the eight states on the route, and Jim covers his home state of Arizona, plus neighboring California and the state with the fewest miles of Sixty-Six, Kansas. He also supplies the introduction and epilogue. Talented writers Cheryl Eichar Jett, Joe Sonderman, Rhys Martin, and Gregory R.C. Hasman each cover their states of residence (Illinois, Missouri, Oklahoma, and New Mexico, respectively), and Greg also writes about Texas, where he lived while attending college.

Like the beginning pages of many books about historic highways, the introduction includes tales of how the early automobile roads followed native trails, animal migration paths, and train tracks. And it talks about the impact that the popularity of bicycles had on the desire for and development of roads outside of cities toward the end of the 19th century. What makes it a little different from most similar writings is that it provides some details about organizations and specific events during road development during this era of pedal-powered transportation.

The state chapters appear in geographic sequence, east to west, which is the direction most people travel the route. Together, they provide a sort of combination travel guide and history lesson. I’m not talking about a travel guide with turn-by-turn directions, motel phone numbers, and such. However, most towns along the route are mentioned — and US 66 was a great connector of small towns — along with numerous points of interest. There is usually some history given about each town and POI, and there is plenty of history about the route itself.

The book is definitely well-illustrated. I don’t believe there is a single page, besides the index and authors’ bios, without at least one image. These include modern and period photographs, postcards, advertising brochures, and other items. Joe Sonderman supplied some of those postcards and brochures, as did big-time collectors Mike Ward and Steve Rider. I was extremely pleased to see a photo from the collection of the late Laurel Kane included. Many of the modern photos were taken by Jim Hinckley and his wife, Judy. I saw no photos from either Rhys Martin or Greg Hasman, although I know both are excellent photographers. I did see photos from Shutterstock, Alamy, and Getty. I thought both situations were curious, but the final product comes off well.

The quality of the book is quite good. Color and black-and-white images show nicely on the heavyweight glossy pages, and the layout serves them well. All have descriptive cut lines that include source credits. There are numerous sidebars, most with their own images, providing extra information outside of the main text flow.

The individual states that carried US 66 account for eight chapters. The book has nine. Dries Bessels, a resident of the Netherlands, authored a chapter named “Renaissance”. Dries has guided multiple tours down the length of Route 66 and provides an outside-the-country view of the historic road. The “renaissance” he writes about is its emergence as a travel destination for both Americans and foreigners after being bypassed and decommissioned. America, essentially spared the devastation that WWII brought to Europe, was the land of dreams to post-war Europeans, and Route 66 was a tangible thing that rolled right through those dreams. Today, Route 66 is still regarded as a way to experience a diverse range of America.

I once had a boss whose business ideas included the “rusty hinge” theory. We made machine controls, which were big metal cabinets packed with electronics. The theory was that, if you were showing a new product that still had a few bugs, a rusty hinge on the cabinet would so distract people that they would not notice any operational flaws. Fortunately, I knew about Route 66: 100 Years‘ “rusty hinge” before I saw it. In a chat about the book, Jim had mentioned that it opened with a picture not of Route 66 but of Monument Valley. The other side of the page, in my opinion, isn’t all that much better. It’s a picture of the Second Amendment Cowboy, a Muffler Man-style statue that is close to, but not quite on, Historic Route 66. A plaque at the statue’s base contains a manipulated quote incorrectly attributed to George Washington. Controversial, I think, at best. I assume these photos were included by a less-than-well-informed publisher. I have saved mention of these “rusty hinges” to the end of my review, but I can’t just ignore them. I think being aware of them is a good thing. They were clearly not intentionally put there to distract you from other flaws, but they could easily distract you from some really good writing and interesting information on the pages beyond. Don’t let them.

Route 66: 100 Years, Jim Hinckley (editor), Cheryl Eichar Jett. Joe Sonderman, Rhys Martin, Gregory R. C. Hasman, Dries Bessels (authors), Motorbooks (November 4, 2025), 9.5 x 10.88 inches, 224 pages, ISBN ‎ 978-0760391488
Available through Amazon.

Harmon Museum
Lebanon, Ohio

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It might be apparent that I occasionally use a museum visit to feed a post for an otherwise idle week. And I’m sure it’s no surprise that I find some of those targets through various online searches containing the word “museum.” Without giving it too much thought, I’ve filtered out of the results museums that are too close or too familiar. I recently asked myself why. Why was I refusing to document visits to places I knew were interesting simply because they were not new discoveries? I had no answer, which means I now have a few not-new-to-me candidates for future idle weeks. Here’s the first: Harmon Museum, just one county and a dozen miles from home.

The first gallery inside the entrance is filled with art, and no photos of the wonderful paintings and sculptures on display are permitted. The art gallery leads to the Armstrong Conference Center, housed in the attached former post office. Two ladies were meeting at one of the tables, and I quickly apologized for interrupting. They weren’t the least bit annoyed and paused their discussion to make sure I crossed the open room to see the aeronautics exhibit at the front of the building. Neil Armstrong spent his final years in Lebanon, and most of the items, including the golden Frisbee for his “step into the future“, are related to his life. Non-Armstrong-related items include Orville Wright’s hat. I had a very nice chat with the ladies at the table as I passed them on the way back to the main museum. One said that if I were still in the museum when they finished, she would point out a few of her favorite things.

Back at the entrance to the main museum, I was greeted by a 1908 Buick Model D and an early U.S Mail wagon. Beyond them were some other early vehicles. I have seen quite a few signs like the one in the last photo in the wild, and I’m sure my road fan friends have too. The Oregonia Bridge Company was incorporated in 1896 in the small nearby town of Oregonia. Rapid growth prompted relocation to Lebanon in 1903.

Next up was a room filled with some very impressive folk art. I found the painting in the far right corner, by Jimmy Lee Sudduth (1910-2007), particularly interesting. A few of this blog’s posts have touched on the difficulty of keeping our man-made calendars in sync with the cosmos, which is sort of the subject of the painting. As Mr. Sudduth notes, the sun and our calendar last matched up in 2000 and won’t do it again until 2400. Lucky to be alive to experience one such alignment, I guess.

The adjacent room contained an impressive collection of locally found arrow and spear points, axe heads, and other prehistoric tools. It was here that Hope, the lady I met in the Armstrong Conference Center, caught up with me and told me that this was her favorite room in the building. She pointed out some items in the room and even demonstrated, short of a final launch, the workings of an atlatl.

I was then treated to a guided “highlights tour” of the rest of the museum. As we moved upward through the exhibits, Hope called various items to my attention and shared some information about each one. This bed was a product of the Cincinnati Art-Carved Furniture Movement of the late 19th century. This was a rather major movement powered primarily by women, and something I previously knew absolutely nothing about. I guess this desk was not among Hope’s favorites, but it was among mine. Thomas Corwin was a Lebanon lawyer who had great success in politics. He served in both houses of the U.S. Congress and as the U.S. Secretary of the Treasury, along with several positions within Ohio, including governor. This desk is from his time as Ohio’s 15th governor (1840-1842).

Following the “highlight tour”, I returned to Shaker Gallery on the top floor. In the early 19th century, a large colony of this communal religious group stood in nearby Turtlecreek Township, and the museum has many articles from there. Pictured are a laundry room, a textile room, and a kitchen. Curiously, one of the few items accompanied by instructions is one where they are probably not needed.

The building housing the museum was originally built as a gymnasium with a large space where basketball games and other athletic activities took place. Basketball hoops were once mounted where the clock and the 1876 38-star flag are now. The rocking chairs are among Hope’s favorites, and she commented that she thought this collection was one of the world’s largest when we passed it. According to this placard, rocking originated in America. I suppose it’s only natural that we eventually combined it with rolling.

The space where basketball was once played is now surrounded by several shops, forming a sort of old-time town square.

The museum is well organized, but there is no single correct path through it. That’s even more the case when you make a pass taking advantage of someone’s favorites before falling into your own meandering. There was very little coherent sequencing in the preceding photos, and there is even less from here on out. This is simply a trio of my own favorites. The IBM time clock was purchased in 1947 by the previously mentioned Oregonia Bridge Company. Read about it here. The most interesting thing for me in the blacksmith shop is the framed shoes on the wall. Read about them here. The furniture in the last photo came from the Glendower Historic Mansion. I learned today that the mansion was home to the first incarnation of the Warren County Historical Society Museum. Over the years, it was owned and administered by the WCHS and the Ohio History Connection. Most recently, the WCHS was the owner. It closed in 2022 and is now a private residence. I visited it during a period when OHC owned it.

That there is a goodly amount of farming gear on display is not a surprise. That there is a collection of phenomenal ship models is. Finding a display about gunpowder and cartridge manufacturing might surprise some, but not anyone really familiar with the area.

The entrance pictured at the top of this article is located at what might be considered the rear of the building, where it is conveniently near a parking lot. The front of the building faces Broadway, and that is where this statue of Warren County’s namesake, Dr. Joseph Warren, stands. The statue was dedicated just months ago on the 250th anniversary of Dr. Warren’s death at the Battle of Bunker Hill on June 17, 1775. A somewhat more readable version of the text on the sign is here. The QR code at the sign’s upper right leads here.

Not Long Ago. Not Far Away.

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On Saturday, October 18, “Auschwitz. Not long ago. Not far away.” opened at the Cincinnati Museum Center. I attended on Wednesday. The red shoe pictured at right is one of the first items visitors see when they enter the exhibit. Photos of the shoe, backed by the image of countless other empty shoes, have been used to promote the display. The wall-filling image boggles the mind as the realization that the owners of all those shoes walked into Auschwitz but never walked out slowly forms. The mind nearly breaks realizing that the photo contains just a fraction of such shoes.

Having seen pictures of that red shoe, and knowing that this was “the largest collection of artifacts from Auschwitz outside of Europe”, I probably could have predicted the question that formed as I moved into the exhibit and listened to the included audio guide. It’s a question that most of us ask ourselves anytime we give much thought to the Holocaust. “How could this have happened?” we wonder. The exhibit doesn’t really explain it, but it does tell some of the history. It describes and displays artifacts from the small Polish village that would become home to the largest of the Nazi concentration and extermination camps.

Establishing that the “other” was responsible for all of Germany’s problems was essential. The “other” was mostly, but not exclusively, Jews. Blacks, Roma, homosexuals, and people with disabilities were among those persecuted by the Nazis.

This is the desk of the camp commandant, Rudolf Höss. Photos of key Auschwitz personnel are displayed nearby with an identifying legend.

Roughly 80% of those arriving at Auschwitz were sent directly to the gas chambers. The other 20% became slaves, and not many survived the starvation, beatings, and forced labor. Many more than three people occupied the three-tiered bunks. The concrete post held barbed wire, as seen in the photo in the background.

Some of the prisoners were “rented” to various privately held companies, but many were assigned tasks in the camp, such as removing bodies from the gas chambers or moving them through the crematorium. The first photo contains items from gas chambers and crematoriums. There is a “shower head” in the lower right corner. The gas mask in the second photo was worn by a soldier who dropped the Zyklon B once the chamber was sealed.

Other prisoners were forced to sort through the few possessions that actually made it to the camp. Prisoners referred to the sorting sheds as Kanada.

There were several benches placed throughout the exhibit. Many were positioned in front of screens showing videos of scenes related to the camps. All had a box of tissues placed at their center. There was no lack of tear-inducing images, artifacts, and stories in the exhibit. Nearly all of the items on display are from the Auschwitz-Birkenau State Museum. The last picture is of a quote from the director of that museum about remembrance. I immediately thought of Eisenhower’s 1945 command, “Get it all on record now. Get the films, get the witnesses, because somewhere down the track of history some bastard will get up and say this never happened.” He was right, of course. That quote on the wall notes that today “…our efforts to build a more just and humane world are under threat.” Nearer the beginning of this article, there is a photo of a quote about  “…the disappearance of a number of quite harmless people…” It’s from 1938 Germany during the Nazi rise to power. As I read it, it occurred to me that it could have easily come from certain Central or South American countries a few decades ago. Or it could have come from somewhere not even that far away or that long ago.

“Auschwitz. Not long ago. Not far away.” runs through April 12, 2026.

The Holocaust and Humanities Center helped bring the Auschwitz exhibit to Cincinnati. Although a separate operation, it is housed in the Cincinnati Museum Center and throughout the exhibit’s run is offering discounted adult admission of $7.50 to anyone presenting an “Auschwitz. Not long ago. Not far away.” ticket. This rate is available year-round to seniors and military.

Naturally, there is overlap between the Auschwitz displays and those in the Holocaust Museum. A notable example is this molded wall of abandoned shoes that echoes the red shoe and large photo from Auschwitz. But there are also a lot of differences. The museum has many interactive displays, and the story it tells is broader than the one with a specific concentration camp at its center. In particular, the museum continues the story well beyond the liberation of the prisoners with reporting on the post-war trials and tales of recovery.

When I spoke with a friend about the Auschwitz exhibit, I encouraged a follow-on visit to the Holocaust Museum, and it wasn’t just because of the broader story. The Holocaust is humanity at its worst. Studying it and acknowledging it is important and necessary, but it is hardly uplifting. The museum offsets that just a little by presenting recent examples of bigotry being defeated and human rights being defended. Your mood probably won’t be exactly celebratory when you leave, but it very well might be hopeful.

With every museum that exists, it is always possible to see something you’ve previously missed when you revisit. But sometimes that new discovery really is something new. That is the case with this recently installed interactive display featuring Albert Miller (1922-2023). Albert, who escaped Europe with his parents in 1940, then returned as a Nazi interrogator in 1943, tirelessly answers spoken questions about the life he lived.

I documented my first visit to the museum here. 

Bones, Butterflies, Bison, Bunnies, and Beavers

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I have visited Big Bone Lick State Historic Site a couple of times in the past, but that was many years ago. Since then, I’ve passed it several times, without stopping, on the way to Rabbit Hash. A friend visited both last week, and their description of that visit made me promise myself that I would return. A sunny Thursday almost immediately provided a perfect opportunity.

My first stop at the park was the Visitor Center. In addition to having a gift shop, helpful attendants, and a supply of information and maps, the center houses a small but very interesting museum. A panel just inside the door offers a pretty good overview of the park. That big guy in the foreground of the third photo is a Harlan’s Ground Sloth.

At the rear of the Visitor Center is a life-sized diorama depicting how earlier visitors to the salt springs might become trapped in the bogs and involuntarily leave their bones for future scientists. Big Bone Lick is on the Lewis and Clark National Historic Trail, not because the Corps of Discovery stopped here but because both of its captains did. At the urging of President Jefferson, Meriwether Lewis visited the site in 1803 on his way west to join William Clark. The boat carrying the specimens he collected sank on its way to Jefferson. In 1807, after that famous expedition to the Pacific Ocean, Clark made a stop here to collect and ship specimens that did reach the President.

Although they have absolutely nothing to do with vertebrate paleontology, I found the smallish examples of wildlife flitting about in front of the Visitor Center a lot of fun to watch.

A paved path that begins a short distance from the Visitor Center leads to an elevated bison viewing stand. But no bison presented themselves to be viewed there today. Instead, the small herd was lounging in the grass, just out of sight, a short distance away.

Having noted that I’ve passed Big Bone Lick a number of times while driving to Rabbit Hash, continuing on to the one-of-a-kind river town after my stop was rather natural. Besides, if I hadn’t, I could not have put “bunnies” in the title. I grabbed an ice-cold ginger ale at the general store, then sipped it as I watched the Ohio River flow by.

This intersection, just east of US 42 about two and a half miles east of Big Bone Lick, marks the community of Beaverlick. I believe there used to be limit signs here, but I found none today. If I didn’t imagine them, I’m guessing they are hanging on a college dorm wall somewhere. Until a year or so ago, there was a Beaverlick Trading Post at US 42, but it is now an ice cream stand, and almost all of the signage has been changed. They’ve not yet taken care of a couple of side doors, however. Places like Big Bone Lick and Beaver Lick (now Beaverlick) were salt licks where various animals came to get a little salt in their diet. They were named for the lickers, not the lickees.

To complete what has turned into a survey of the area’s smile-inducing place names, I stopped at an establishment that appears to be the last remaining enterprise acknowledging that the community of Sugartit once existed. It’s just a few miles north of those spots made famous by salt-licking beavers and big boned animals.