Sunday, September 4, 2011

Goth to get you into my life: The American Gothic house of Eldon, Iowa

That's Grant Wood's sister and his dentist.

They were thrilled.

The original owners of the house were Charles and Catharine Dibble. They lived here with their eight (!) children. The Gideon and Mary Hart Jones family owned it when Wood saw it. He asked and got their permission to paint it. The house fell into disrepair in the 1960s and was placed on the National Register of Historic Places in 1974.

They've done a nice job of landscaping around the house and the Grant Wood museum...

...seen here.

Here's Alan, one of the awesome docents we talked to, and a portrait of Wood...

...and his wife Rosie. We really enjoyed their friendly Midwestern hospitality.

The house sits on the corner of American Gothic and Burton.

You'd never guess such a famous house would be in such an unassuming neighborhood.

Inside the museum, there's a great wall of parodies.


The house was left by its owner to the State Historical Society of Iowa, who lease it out to private tenants and the public isn't allowed inside. The current tenant is Beth Howard, who has a pie baking business. No kidding.

At the museum, they'll loan you costumes and take your picture. Some folks get pretty creative...


We're purists and opted for the dour-faced traditional approach. It was 97 degrees, windy, and humid.

There are only a few paintings that are so well known, they're part of popular culture. Leonardo Da Vinci's "The Mona Lisa" is one, Edvard Munch's "The Scream", another. And, of course, there's "American Gothic" by Grant Wood. In 1930, Wood noticed a simple house built in Carpenter Gothic style in his home state of Iowa and decided to use it as the backdrop of a Midwestern American scene with "the kind of people I fancied should live in that house": an elderly farmer and his daughter. The model for the farmer was his Cedar Rapids dentist, Dr. Byron McKeeby, and for the daughter he used his sister Nan. All three elements -- the farmer, the daughter and the house -- were painted separately and no one posed in front of the house. Wood entered the painting in an Art Institute of Chicago competition and the judges gave it a bronze medal and $300. The Institute also bought the painting and it remains in their collection today (not bad: 300 clams for a priceless work of art). At first, some local Iowans thought the painting was disrespectful and made fun of their way of life. This could not have been further from Wood's intentions, as he had great reverence for the local people and gave up a European painter's life to locate in Iowa as a working artist. Eventually the painting was seen with affection by both Iowans and critics, and hundreds of parodies have resulted (that's how you know you've really made it). The house is now owned by the state of Iowa and sits in an unassuming, quiet neighborhood in the small town of Eldon. They've put up a very nice Grant Wood museum next to it and when we were there, two terrific docents, Alan and Rosie, told us all about Wood and the area. Best of all, they have a whole closet full of bib overalls, blazers, colonial print aprons, white-collared dresses and a pitchfork or two so you can get your picture taken, free of charge mind you, in front of the house. We loved visiting this place so much...you don't get more Americana than this. Goth bless America.

Friday, September 2, 2011

Beloved souvenir of the week

As you might have gathered, we're big fans of old-fashioned roadside souvenirs. One of my favorites is this beauty from the Devil's Rope Museum, a barbed wire depository in McLean, Texas. It's a stunningly crafted shellacked plank of Texas with a deluxe rope border and a fine sampler from legendary barbed wire innovators J. Brinkerhoff, T.V. Allis, D.C. Stover and C.D. Rogers. I don't remember what I paid for it, but it was worth every penny. It's so beloved, in fact, that it's hung on my office partition just above the equally beloved "God Bless This Camper" souvenir plate...a spot of no higher honor, barb none.

Wednesday, August 31, 2011

Happy Birthday, Mom

Here's Mom behind the wheel, my brother and Grandma. They weren't so big on child car safety back in 1960.

That's Mom behind the wheel and my brother and me in the back seat of our awesome 1961 Chevy station wagon. That's the first car I can really remember.

Mom and her rootin' tootin' cowboys, Christmas, 1964.

Today is my Mom's 80th birthday. I'm trying to come up with something witty or punny to say here, but, really, she's just a great, great mom. Roadtrip-wise, Mom was always the facilitator. She's the one who filled the coolers, made the killer potato salad, applied the sunscreen, made us wear big floppy hats, put the flea collars on the pets, dabbed the Calamine lotion on the mosquito bites, painted the Merthiolate on the scrape, relieved car boredom with games of 20 Questions, fixed me a comfy bed in the station wagon when my asthma prevented me from sleeping with the rest of the family in the tent at the campground, made sure I didn't eat any more clams the next day after they really, really didn't agree with me the night before, packed an extra set of clothes for me after I inevitably would fall into a lily pond or tourist attraction fountain, made sure I wrote post cards and thank you notes to Grandma, bought me a Ring Ding every once in a while, cooked the best fried fish I ever ate, listened to the car radio station my brother and I wanted to listen to, played miniature golf ad nauseum with my brother and me, rode a bike on vacation with us when most people over 40 didn't ride bikes, slept on the fold-out cot in our Cape Cod cabin and not on one of the comfortable beds, twisted her ankle on the first day of our vacation and still hobbled along and let us have a great time, let me buy comic books, took me to great museums, got us a tour of NBC studios in New York City when I was 9 years old, always had three square meals for us, told me to come in so I wouldn't get sunburned, over-excited or over-tired, and generally made every family roadtrip we ever took the best times of my life and the inspiration for this blog.

Saturday, August 27, 2011

OMG


















Wednesday, August 24, 2011

Eccentric street name of the week

Wasn't that a cereal back in the '60s: Quisp, Quake and Quagnut?

Saturday, August 20, 2011

We will, we will "Rock" you: Greetings from Alcatraz









This is the cell where an escape was perpetrated in 1962. Note the big hole in the wall.

This is the view of San Francisco from The Rock.

Clint...

...Burt...

...and many others have been to The Rock.


All aboard.

Say "clink!"

Every so often, it's nice to visit a place that makes you appreciate your lot in life a little bit more. Take Alcatraz, for instance. That notorious island a mile and a half off the shore of San Francisco gets this job done because, no matter how hard things might seem, they must have been much worse for the "guests" of this harshest of federal prisons from 1868 until it closed in 1963. The roster of convicts reads like a who's who of the worst of the worst of yesteryear: Machine Gun Kelly, Creepy Karpis, Doc Barker, Robert "Birdman of Alcatraz" Stroud. Even the au courant Whitey Bulger did time on The Rock. But Alcatraz's most notorious detainee was "Scarface" Al Capone, who served four years before being transferred to another prison due to his tertiary syphilis. Ouch.

Several escapes were attempted, and three prisoners actually made their way out in 1962 through an ingenious use of dummies, tunneling, air vents and accordion music. It's likely they drowned in San Francisco Bay, but their bodies were never found, so who knows? The 1979 movie starring Clint Eastwood leads you to believe they made it, and what Clint says goes. A few years after the government shut down the prison in 1963 (it was deemed too expensive to maintain), the island was seized by a group of Native Americans to protest U.S policies regarding Indian affairs. After 19 months of occupation, a new policy of self-determination was negotiated with the U.S. government. Now the island is run by the National Parks Service and tours are of the prison and island are given daily. We were there on an appropriately miserable, rainy day last spring and the boat was absolutely mobbed with tourists eager to see how bad bad can be. All in all, it's a nice place to visit, but I wouldn't want to live there.