History = Good

The Watkins Museum of History in Lawrence is full of odd artifacts and wonderful furniture.


There's this light fixture, seen from below.


And a children's playhouse from 1878, the site of many historical symposiums and tea parties. Yes, I know it's a bit strange for a grown man to hang out in a giant dollhouse. Even I had my moral reservations. But don't worry -- we carefully put all of our books, cups and toys away before reluctantly rentering the world of grown folk.


The weirdest thing was this message left on the bulletin board upstairs in the music exhibit. Makes you wonder if this kid was gifted with clairvoyance, and if so, what it was he saw in the future that made it so bad. Guess we'll find out soon enough.

Our reason for our visit to the museum this time was the current exhibit called "Hugh Cameron: Tree Hermit, Philosopher, and Civil War Veteran," which is up until May 24. You may have read about Hugh on this very blog, or seen the historical markerat 5th and Louisiana Streets in the Pinkney Neighborhood of Lawrence. The exhibit, which consists of some documents and photos in a glass case, was much smaller than I expected, but fortunately there are a number of resources to learn about Hugh's life. There's this great historical essay by Elfriede Fischer Rowe called "Long Hairs Not New On Lawrence Horizon," that starts out with a page or so about Hugh. And the most comprehensive summary of Hugh's life I've found is contained in David Dary's 1987 collection, "More True Tales of Old-Time Kansas." Here's an excerpt...

"Early in this century a Lawrence newspaperman went to Cameron's camp, which was located on some bluffs, called Cameron Bluffs, north by northwest of Lawrence. It was a crisp October evening as the reporter sat on a fallen log before a campfire, with the hermit standing silhouetted in the glow from the dying embers of the fire. The reporter listened as Cameron related the following story:

You read in the Bible of the prophets of old... how to become a seer, a prophet, one had to bury himself alone in the woods. Your old Scotch bards would often bury themselves in the mountains... I wanted to become a Seer so I buried myself here in the woods. Some day the vision may come."