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Published: September 10th 2009
A trapping of a museum, but better
Here was one of the many points of information (displayed on a thick board of sorts) from the Museum Buildings in Hannibal; here we were at the 'Huck Finn House.' Everything was worth reading, though. So I’m sure I’ll arrive in Hannibal this time. For this entry, that is! My mom and I spent Saturday (May 9th) in St. Louis, and I left off with Kayak, the hip and happening place to study and enjoy a cool brew nearby Washington University. I had something called the bullfrog, I believe, and it had mint and chocolate mixed in with the ice and other iced drink goodness. I miss having a go-to coffee shop like I did in college, although I never had one of Kayak’s size. Plus, you got every notion of the store being outdoorsy and adventurous; there was gear on the walls and wooden furniture. And a guy studying chemistry, poor soul. We were pleased to find the Metrolink station in front of Kayak, for we crossed the street underneath via the connection from the station across the way. We then took the train back to the Union Station, and while we were planning on recharging at the hotel for a spell before dinner, we found ourselves observing many life events for a few groups of STL residents.
As we climbed up the stairs to head out the door onto Market Street, young ladies
and gentlemen passed us in tuxedos and prom dresses (the ladies also had impossibly high shoes, of course, and I wondered if we should slow our pace so as to catch them in the event of a fall). I have been on trips during early May before, so while it wasn’t too unusual to see groups of prom-goers, it’s a tradition I enjoy and hope to have again in another city. We had seen other high schoolers posing by the fish ponds outside at the Union Station, and here, one of them dropped a boutonnière. I saw it slip from a small cluster of ‘prom kids,’ so I wasn’t sure who had lost it. I walked over and picked it up from the edge of the staircase, and while I considered keeping it as part of our trip experience, my mom was right about giving it to someone who might know the owner. I did as such, sure that the flower would not find its way back to the correct lapel. But, I felt that the ‘kids’ would likely enjoy their night, flower or not. As we looked at and tried out the “Whispering Arch” on either side of the
MT statue and quote
There were several plaster-looking figures of Mr. Twain throughout the house, and the words well-chosen for the boards that also helped to illustrate his life and the times. doors, a wedding party entered.
They must have just arrived from the limo or something, for a whole gang of groomsmen and bridesmaids flanking the ruffled and tiered bride (I’m sure I don’t know all of the exact terms, but her gown was bunched in places and set in bunched rows…good for her, yet not what I would have chosen) congregated in the very space that my mom and I were milling about in. They were on one side of the entranceway and I another, but I pretended to shoot the Whispering Arch as I tried to snap some of the group. After all, one of the groomsmen started to groove to the music that was playing above; I had thought that that was the prom, but perhaps the wedding reception was the focus up the stairs and for the people signing a guest book. And for the young man that assured a groomsman of an alcoholic beverage that he had picked up. I wanted to observe the life moments of these people for a little longer, but we had to press on. We had seen another party taking photos at the Arch that afternoon, so at least I
Books from the other side of the glass
These were inside the home and behind the glass on a table, but I see a travel guide. This really made my visit all the more special. :) had felt a part of a few ‘big days.’ Outside the Union Station, more ‘prom kids’ were on their way to the prom with the flower-less young man.
The sun had not yet set as we hiked back up the street to our hotel, yet it was a little later when we had the car out and were finding an Italian place near the Delmar Loop (a critically acclaimed six-block area of Delmar Boulevard). We had explored a majority of the literature on STL restaurants, and while I was planning on skipping the ribs, I was interested in another local spot in a neighborhood unique to the town. We were witness to a large group of bike riders as they crossed through one intersection and thankfully, found one off of the road on which we were traveling. They didn’t even hold us up that long, but I wonder if the residents of other cities would be as understanding. I couldn’t believe how well the traffic was treating us overall, and that I didn’t lose my mind nearly every time I tried to get anywhere; not taking out the car was due to my usual dread of traffic at most
Between a book and a fence
Yes, I am indeed in front of 'Tom Sawyer's Fence.' I'm also holding my copy of "The Adventures of Tom Sawyer." Yes, I know I'm a literary nerd. anytime of the day. After all, I’m an Atlanta driver now! Once we had dinner at a family-friendly (and fairly good) Italian place, we drove back using St. Louis’ Loop. There were theaters and restaurants and stores and a night life after we found it through more tree-lined streets, but since I had to turn around once the interesting sights ended and some construction began, I just saw what there might be to do there. It sure wasn’t Rodeo Drive or Madison Avenue, but it would be interesting with a group of friends.
Mother’s Day arrived, and we were off to Hannibal. A quick breakfast as it nearly closed for the day and I had us bound for Mark Twain’s hometown. It’s a little over two hours away and north of St. Louis, but other than little to see or stop for on Highway 61, it was a nice side trip. My mom also read a little from the copy of The Adventures of Tom Sawyer that I had brought along for the occasion. We knew that we were checking off the boyhood home and all of the ‘museum properties’ that related thereto, but we would make a stop
at the “Mark Twain Cave.” The cave figured prominently into the lives of Twain’s Tom Sawyer and Huck Finn, and Hannibal was ‘St. Petersburg’ in his books, that we knew. We entered into the modern outskirts of town and made our way to Main Street through downtown. Soon we saw the river on one side as we looked for the right place to park. There was some life and later, some people walking about, but other than the nice man at the welcome center (who gave us more great literature and advice, for we didn’t do the new state stop upon entering Missouri a few days before) a ways out of town, things were as quiet as Twain probably saw in his days there. The trolley service was on hold until the men working there could find a substantial group of people for a ride, but we soon decided that we could see everything we wanted to, and more.
We walked a little nearby the river, but the times to take the riverboat itself weren’t really going to work out if we were to take the afternoon to see each of the museum buildings. I thought that we had
gotten much mileage out of our visit by the evening (and close for the exhibits), but the only thing I would have spent a little more time on was the riverfront. I did end up missing the statue that I found a picture of sometime before the trip began. Nothing was particularly fancy in Hannibal, but it matched what I would think of in terms of Twain using it for inspiration. It also had the gentle easiness of a smaller town, but traffic lights and fast food chains to balance any po-dunk notions that the naysayers may have! We saw the Interpretive Center, and the exhibits were well-done and complete with timelines. It may sound a bit strange to say, but here was a museum that almost had too much to read or take in for a simple 20 minutes or so. Would that be called wordy? I instantly began learning more about Twain than I had already absorbed (quite eagerly in the weeks before the trip), and I made a mental note to come back for the pressed penny machine that was in the back hallway as we headed on to see “Huck Finn’s House.” Yes, those are souvenirs
Outside Becky's Ice Cream Parlor
Here was a calm street in Hannibal; it was nearby the okay Planter's House (where we had lunch) and within a stone's throw of all the must-see buildings. that I pick up on all of my trips too.
Along with the re-creations that were the homes of Huck and Becky Thatcher (the latter was under construction), we saw the office where Twain’s father practiced law as a judge. The writer’s family lived above a drugstore for a while too, and that was next door. A large glass window allowed visitors to view the store and read cards and descriptions of the unusual tools or awful-tasting elixirs that were common in Twain’s time. We also recalled (from a few stops in Hannibal) how Twain gave castor oil to a cat; that became one of Tom Sawyer’s fine moments in the novel later on. The Museum Gallery held the twists and turns and second floor and ‘cave’ where one could walk through and listen to or see (thanks to the movie versions of Tom Sawyer and Huck Finn out there) book excerpts. I especially enjoyed the raft that was large enough to accommodate several benches and a short clip of a Huck Finn movie for patrons to sit and watch. There was a ‘sky’ above with stars and the whole bit, so while the rest of the museum was
Grant's Drug Store
Twain lived in this building, his father's law practice was next door (and we could see some of that, although not the inside), and we got the memorable visual of Tom Sawyer feeding the cat some medicine...it's all thanks to the interesting substances seen here. :) quite alive and bright around us, it still seemed as though the raft could just take off down the Mississippi.
I can still see many of the exhibits (like a Twainian white coat and his robes from the honorary degree ceremony at Yale) in my memory a couple of months later, but I think that the learning about this author and the ways in which my slowly progressing career can relate to his remains uplifting. We wrapped up with the museum buildings and Boyhood Home Gift Shop (wonderful t-shirts, bookmarks, toys for children and so on that tie in with Mr. Twain) as they closed, and while it looked like rain, there was definitely not any sort of downpour. I suppose it was just passing clouds, but the mood almost made Hannibal look a little more ghost town-like as my mom and I climbed the hill to the lighthouse memorial. It’s above the Tom and Huck statue on one side of town, and within easy walking distance of Twain’s home and consequently, our vehicle. There was a Mark Twain bridge that extended out over the Mississippi, and I stood on what was left of it. A little park and
Mom with the lavender
Mom got a few freebies (like pie at the Planters House) and enjoyed Hannibal, so it looks like we managed to pull off a good Mother's Day on the road, so to speak! :) butterfly garden had been created, and the lighthouse some flights of stairs above that is also dedicated to the man that made this a must- see town. The lighthouse is apparently the largest non-functional one out there, but it serves as a good landmark once one sees the billboard by the welcome center; that was on the end of town where I found one of the coolest things of all: the Pepsi machine with Twain’s photo on it.
I knew that it really meant you had arrived when you had your likeness (and signature) on a drink machine! The billboard was great too, so I’m glad that we could walk across the street to see it instead of cruising on past as Sylvia directed us to our destination in Hannibal. I probably could have lingered around a little longer, hoping to absorb more of the hallowed writer’s vibes or spirit, but we needed to get back to St. Louis (and to Memphis the next day). I drove a couple of miles through and out of town to stop by the official “Mark Twain Cave.” While I’m sure that this registered cave (out of the list that mom had managed
Part of Huck Finn exhibit
Here is part of a giant-sized page from "Huck Finn" nearby the cool raft in the Museum Gallery. to find) was quite intriguing and warranted exploring (maybe with some string and a few candles), we knew that we had missed its operating hours. I just had to see the buildings in town instead, but I walked around the cave’s gift shop and discovered a pressed dime machine. That little coin was the perfect addition to all of my pennies, and once we bid adieu to the teenagers working at the ticket counter and stopped to get gas (at a Mark Twain BP station, I’m sure), we were back to the open highway. Yes, back to seeing little until we were on the interstate and checking out the exit signs for signs of dinner.
My mom received a free drink at the Fazoli’s that we ended up ordering to-go food from; I was glad that we could take advantage of a few Mother’s Day freebies while on the road. We were glad to be back in our room and enjoying the fast food Italian that we simply cannot find back in Georgia anymore. There was a breakfast-in-bed-looking mini table tray that we could have employed for a fancy meal in, but settling things about oneself while watching some
show or decent movie atop the queen-sized beds is luxury enough. It was off to Memphis on Monday, so we wound our way down through Missouri, Arkansas and into Tennessee before early evening. We had plans to meet up with family in Elvis’s and Justin Timberlake’s hometown (we remembered what we enjoyed about the bustle of Beale Street and the view of the Mississippi from this hub for music and more), and all the while, we were heading back to the South.
The drive back through Tennessee, Alabama and all along I-20 was uneventful in that there simply wasn’t much to look at, see in the way of scenery, or stop beside for the necessary fuel fill-ups. I made a mental note, yet I enjoyed the glimpse of Talladega Speedway as we drew closer to Atlanta. That counts, but really, I think we made excellent time in moving on into home base on Tuesday; I had considered the possibility of coming in on Wednesday the 13th.
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