Mark Twain's cabin on Jackass Hill

It requires a little uphill drive from Angels Camp on a dirt road to find this cabin. You pass some donkeys who give their name to this place, Jackass Hill. You think you're the only history-minded person trying to find it, and you arrive, park, poke around... and then five other cars come and you exult that other people care!

It may seem at first flush that the cabin looks too fresh, too new to have been a place where Mark crashed in 1864.

Yeah, it's made of wood, but it doesn't look OLD somehow

 But you still walk around and marvel.

At least the fireplace looks old, right?

So, if you read the plaque at the site, you learn that this is not the original cabin. It was rebuilt 2002-2005 by the Rotarians. However, not even the original cabin was original! It was built in 1922 to commemorate Mark Twain's stay approximately 60 years earlier. Now who feels like a jackass??

Turns out the cabin is an imposter

This is a nice old plaque. Let's focus on that instead.

1929 plaque also deemed "not old enough"

Am I the only one who wants to put a "C" in the word plaque? I always type "placque" and then fix it.

Sometimes it can be hard to chase down history. If Twain wanted the cabin where he stayed to remain into perpetuity, he should've asked for brick.

It's interesting to contemplate that Twain wrote "The Celebrated Jumping Frog of Calaveras County" here, as the placque suggests. Especially since the other plaque suggests the cabin is situated in Tuolumne County. #Hm.


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Angels Camp

Mural in town, showing Twain holding a frog

This small Gold Rush town in northern California is also known as Frogtown, because Mark Twain based his short story, "The Celebrated Jumping Frog of Calaveras County," on a story heard here in 1865. The hotel where he heard it still stands. PETA members, please don't read this story.

Each May, Angels Camp hosts a jumping frog contest, and a plaque gets laid in the sidewalk for each year's winner.

I think this is the biggest jump I saw, at 19'11"

This one is a wink-wink, based on the story

The town is sweet to wander through and straddles a beautiful creek.

It has an arts center.

And of course it has to have a saloon.

And not too far away, a Barrel of Monkeys, described as "If you were given $5,000 and told to open your own version of John's Incredible Pizza":

Built on a hill, Angels Camp has many staircases that link parallel streets:

And statues throughout town celebrate the froglike history.

It's worth a visit! The jumping frog jubilee is always the third weekend in May; here's a link. The Mark Twain story is also reprinted in its entirety at that site.

Fun fact: the town isn't angelic; it's named for early founder Henry Angell (no one could spell in the 1800s).
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Last post about the Klimt exhibit

(although it has nothing to do with Klimt)

In the permanent collection, my husband pointed out a plaque that made us laugh. I had assumed "The Candelight Master" was the name of the painting. But it was the name of the artist.

Forgive me if this is a big thing I missed out on. I never took Art History.

So then of course, anyone who loves Prince as much as he does has to joke, that when his town got electricity, he was "the artist formerly known as the candlelight master and now known as the fluorescent blurb master."

Of course because I feel an obligation to the paltry few of you who actually read this blog (and because it's so miserably short today), I took a moment to google this artist. 

Proving you really do have to have money to have a gallery named after you

He had the very worrisome name of Trophime Bigot (but don't worry, he was French so you'd pronounce it Bee-joe...or wait, maybe a hard G? Bee-go? I'll have to consult on this one and return)

He lived 1579-1650, was born in Arles (bullfight place I've visited and sobbed about, poor bulls), and was actively painting in Rome and Provence. He's buried in Avignon, where the popes used to live (I visited but didn't cry).

There's some controversy that he was thought to be a father and son, but historians determined that he was the same guy painting in two very different styles, depending on what his patrons wanted.

And, and, and...he did one of the Judith & Holofernes beheading paintings that I was just sharing with a class a month ago. Wow. Small world.

A lot can happen by candlelight.

Hm...murder assisted by a maid...where I have heard that before?

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Klimt & Rodin exhibit, Legion of Honor

Man with Portrait of Johanna Staude, unfinished thanks to the flu

AKA Klimt, part 2, far more cheerful!

Klimt is amazing. This exhibit is incredible. 

 

The colors and depth were so spectacular that when we moved from the Klimt exhibit into the older paintings in the permanent collection, I literally felt a let-down. The paintings there seemed flat. I still love them...but damn, Klimt does everything I want an artist to do!

(and Rodin's pretty cool too. But I have a grudge against him because it was at his museum in Paris that I hemorrhaged and had to go to the ER—my little French/English dictionary had the word for "miscarriage"—and thought I'd lost a baby yet again. But! she's here, thank God).

I like to say Legion of Honor. It sounds like you're not just looking at art, but doing something noble.

It's a glorious museum with a Rodin "The Thinker" out front and even a miniature pyramide de verre like the Louvre.

Anyway, I love Klimt and we drove six hours round-trip to see this exhibit (actually shouldn't have taken that long, but see previous post). Plus, wanted a date day in the big city.

It's a small exhibit with five rooms, but there is a wealth there that could take up hours if you weren't being jostled for space by lots of other viewers. Hint to Legion of Honor: please make description plaques twice as large (and maybe even duplicate them to place on either side of wider pieces)—sometimes you'd have to move through a sea of 20 people to read the plaque and then you don't get to look at the painting again with the newfound information. I heard several other people complain about the small print. 

This exhibit space is gorgeous: look at the ceilings! The black and white photograph you see on the back wall is a reproduction of Klimt's "Medicine." See a few paragraphs below for an explanation.

This is Klimt himself, coolest of the cool. Sadly he died of pneumonia complicating his 1918 flu (which I blogged about here) or we'd have so much more art to delight our eyes.

Loving the vibe

One of the many things that makes him great:

He tried three times to get into the prestigious Ecole des Beaux Arts, failed and then went on to be one of the most well-known artists of all time.

Another thing that makes him great: he fathered 14 kids. And you can tell by this picture why and how:

Section of a much larger frieze

Another thing: there is an early painting of his (a seashore landscape that I'm mad at myself for not photographing so I could show you) that is fully representational to the degree it's nearly photographic. He was so damn talented, but decided that was boring, and so moved on to create his own style. Here's a few details of his explosive use of color and built-up texture:

detail of painting I failed to write down the name of

Detail of Klimt's other painting I didn't write down the name of
Hey, this isn't investigative journalism!

Another bit of admirable coolness: He was commissioned by the University of Vienna to create three huge paintings, allegorical representations of Medicine, Philosophy and Jurisprudence. He created the first, Philosophy, and it was thought to be pornographic and there was public outcry. He withdrew it and entered it in the 1900 World's Fair competition and won the Grand Prix! Eff you, establishment! All three were destroyed by a fire in the Austrian castle where they were stored during WWII, and all that exists are black and white photographs of these lost pieces.

If you live in the San Francisco Bay Area, this exhibit closes Jan. 28 so get thyself hence post-hastily!

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Klimt, collapses and car crashes

 

See how the tire is revealed by the entire bumper being demolished?
It almost took off his axle.

The other day I was hanging out with a friend and describing how someone had rung our doorbell around midnight and I looked out from the balcony and saw how one person had hidden himself behind our Spanish arch while the other was at the door and called out frantically to my husband, "Don't open the door! It's bad guys! One's hiding" ...

and how my husband called 911 before we understood they were the law (it was two sheriffs on a very strange mission that I still don't fully understand, and I guess one had hidden himself in case my husband opened the door and shot his colleague), ...

and in the same conversation we talked about how I'd forgotten my purse at a teachers' meeting and how the (very nice!) person who took it for me since campus was closing happened to live an hour away, and just a few other things, and she said, "You have the most drama in your life of anyone I know."

I had to laugh, but it kind of hurt. In fact, after the sheriffs departed, I had asked myself, "Why does all the weird stuff happen to us?"

So that was Jan. 11.

On Jan. 23, we were part of two more 911 calls in the space of 40 minutes. We went to San Francisco for the Klimt and Rodin exhibit which closes Jan. 28–if you live in the area, you have four more days to see an absolutely incredible exhibit. It was fabulous. We loved touring the exhibit and then the permanent galleries of the Legion of Honor.

We looked at the time and realized our hope of getting a fun lunch in San Francisco had evaporated time-wise. So we headed down to the basement cafe of the Legion to grab something quick and head home. At the bottom of the stairs was a woman on the floor surrounded by a small group of people, having CPR administered.

My husband works in the ER, so he went over to check in. Things were already underway, but we were part of that drama for about 20 minutes. I stood there, tears prickling in my eyes, thinking, "Is this how this woman dies? On the floor of the museum?" and thankfully, she opened her eyes eventually and was able to speak to the caregivers.

Someone had called 911, and soon enough the paramedics were there to take over.

Kind of a sacred moment as a life was saved.

So incredible.

And then, as one does, we resumed the concerns of the living: food. But there was a long line to get into the cafe. We resolved we would get on the road and see how traffic treated us; maybe we could get something fast on the way.

This is how quickly that long line of cars forms after an accident.
I wonder how long traffic was affected.
There was a ton of debris in the road, glass and metal, so cars had to slow
to get past the accident site. To make things better, that meadow on the left was filled with cows.

About 20 minutes into our drive, something happened in front of us. I can't even say what it was (I'd make a terrible eyewitness), but there were cars in front of us colliding, and it was only due to my husband's excellent defensive driving that we were not involved. He braked hard and swerved, and we missed the car in front of us by mere feet.

It was a three-car crash and we were almost the fourth. 

We pulled over to be witnesses (my husband had paid attention and knew who was at fault) and give our number to the other drivers. Both our phones had died (despite being charged all night the previous night and my not running any draining program: more drama) but luckily his had been charged just long enough in our 20 minute drive for me to call 911.

After a long time, the police officer arrived and we took off. We knew we were never going to get home in time, so we changed to charging my phone just enough to call the wonderful person we were going to be late for.

Traffic sucked and because we were on the road an extra hour because of it, we had to stop for gas. More drama.

So, we were part of three 911 calls in a week.

Let's hope things slow down for a little.

I guess the one thing I can say is, the Klimt exhibit was still worth it. And tomorrow I'll post photos. Undramatic photos.

Best defensive driver and CPR overseer ever.

Me, art lover. Our parking spot just happened to have a spectacular view of that
Golden Gate Bridge (I'm so used to typing Bridget, my character in The Murderer's Maid
that I literally just wrote, Golden Gate Bridget)

(And that's what I love about San Francisco. You just, you know, pull over on your way to the museum and there's a world-class view people get in an airplane for.)

. . . .

Sacramento's historic cemetery

This post is for Loren, in my heart today. I took these pictures in February 2017, and can't wait to return to do an official tour with you someday soon.

Loren's the author of 199 Cemeteries to See Before You Die. 

Grave of Mark Hopkins, one of the "Big Four" who brought the transcontinental
railroad to California

pockmarked cherub

Blog visitors, let me know in the comments if you have a favorite cemetery (photos uploads would be great too!)



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San Francisco's Musee Mecanique

Laughing Sal: terrifying children for decades

I've never seen anything like the Musee Mecanique, a museum of machines from the turn of the century. Insert a quarter and watch a small scene play out. You can tell it once amazed people as the epitome of what technology was capable of. 

The mechanical museum used to be out at San Francisco's Ocean Beach, near the camera obscura behind the Cliff House. And that's probably a big part of why Laughing Sal is there; she was once installed at Playland at the Beach. She positively crackles and quivers as she laughs, the stuff of nightmares.

In a smart move, the museum is now at Pier 45, much easier for Pier 39 tourists to get to. No need to bring a roll of quarters; there are change machines inside.

My favorite one.

Closeup of the opium den: a crazy dragon comes out of the table
to illustrate the hallucinations the smokers face

Love the bright colors

Browsing for antiques

This one is part of a huge carnival where all the rides move. This is probably 1/4th of what is visible.

Sigh.

For those of you less charmed by such an old-world penny arcade (but...who would that be?), there's also an area in the back with more recent games. State of the art games. Pong, for instance.

What's your favorite tourist destination in San Francisco? Would love to see comments!

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Fancy some taxidermied animals in a cool historic museum?

Gargoyle outside front entry

Look no further than the Natural History Museum on the K.U. campus in Lawrence, Kansas. Its official name is the KU Biodiversity Institute and Natural History Museum.

Housed in an absolutely gorgeous four-story stone building that looks exactly like an 1800s professor built a castle to house his antiquities, the museum is a true pleasure to tour.


Many of these dioramas were created for the 1893 World's Fair in Chicago.

There are taxidermied animals galore. Of course, we have shifted away from the idea of hunting animals to stuff them for display, but since these already exist, they are definitely fascinating. I once wrote about Oakland's no-longer-extant Snow Museum and continue to be intrigued by these frozen creatures.

When we were there last year, a contemporary artist had added some flair, let's say, to the main diorama. This huge exhibit may be the largest in the world (? I've lost my notes) and has many wall-sized glass vantage points. It's a two-story exhibit so you can also look down on it from the second floor. The artist had added a human figure to the diorama at the watering hole...with legs but no torso or head. It really looked like a serial killer's fantasy. The docents were similarly baffled and said the installation had not been met with excitement.

Second story view of inexplicably dismembered body

Kansas is known for its fossils, and here's a larger-than-human fish that makes me somewhat glad extinction means I won't run into this swimming in Lake Shawnee.

This hangs from the ceiling in the entry.

I must apologize for my photos' quality. I took these last year with a desperately ancient droid—surprised I did not find a fossil of it on display, ha ha— and have since happily joined the iphone world (or the 21st century itself, as a friend put it). I'm sad because I took a lot of wonderful family pictures with grandparents and uncles that are similarly blurry. Hopefully, though, there's enough for you to see what a cool museum this is.

The star of the collection is Comanche, the stuffed horse owned by General Custer and the only living thing to survive his Last Stand in 1876. Comanche was previously shot by an arrow in another confrontation with the Comanche (in 1868, hence earning his name for continuing to carry his commander), and was shot by bullets three times at the Battle of Little Big Horn. When he was found two days later, he was there weakly poking around, barely able to stand: the only one left alive.

He was used in parades and lived at Fort Riley, Kansas, until his death in 1891 when he was stuffed.

Comanche's skin being stretched over an armature

The armature

This was my second visit to the museum. When we had gone before, sometime in the '90s to early Oughts, Comanche was in a glass case that permitted you to walk around him and see him from all sides. The top was open to the ceiling. Apparently, the ceiling had leaked and flooded the museum floor and the poor horse was drowned in his own case. This time, he was in a closed case that only permitted viewing from one side. He was in a darkened room to help preserve his multiply-insulted body, which didn't permit my challenged camera to capture it. Here's a link to see his current exhibit status, though.

ANGER

Dinosaur lovers will find much to see at this museum.

Dinosaur bones

Interesting collection of various creatures

Finally, across the street we went to the student union and enjoyed the Kansas University spirit. Many thanks to my Kansas relations for taking us to this extraordinary museum!

It's not too late to read the next post under this one and comment on it to possibly win a free copy of my latest novel The Murderer's Maid. I'll pick a person tomorrow morning (Jan. 5) randomly from all the correct entries. Hint: there are only two correct entries as of noon on Jan. 4 and so you have a very, very high percentage rate of winning!

Lizzie Borden attended the 1893 World's Fair with tickets she won!

Lizzie Borden may have actually seen these taxidermied exhibits at Chicago's World Fair. We know she attended with tickets she won in a raffle.

I'd also love it if you'd comment on this post and/or follow my blog. How to follow? If you're on your desktop computer, simply scroll down the right-hand column until you see the blue "follow" button. If you're on your phone, scroll down until you see "view web version" and then read down the right-hand column. This seems to be a one-click pain-free opt-in if you have a gmail account or other easily recognizable email account. There is no need to sign up or give any information, just click.

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