Occasionally on Sundays Mom used to take us site-seeing to one of Kansas City’s oldest attractions, the Kansas City Museum, located high above the industrial east bottoms of the Missouri River. Getting there was an adventure in itself because we went by the way of Cliff Drive, a winding and isolated stretch of road unencumbered by traffic, houses or people. Nocturnally, it was also the traditional dumping ground for bodies - a characterization, I’m sure, that is denied by local or state tourist officials. As we neared the museum, it was a tradition among Sunday drivers to stop for a drink of water at a natural spring bubbling out of a steep outcrop.
One of Kansas City’s oldest moneyed families had donated the property as a public museum. I can’t recall the details of the transaction, but regardless of the cultural benefit of its many exhibits, it was the first time I visited a mansion in all its splendor. It was built: high iron fences, marble, and a horse shoe staircase suitable for a lavish entrance by Loretta Young herself. In fact, in the late fifties we were there during some kind of a filming in its back yard complete with actors in costume and boom cameras, but I never heard anything more about it.
The museum’s attraction was not limited to revealing how Kansas City’s elite lived. It was a toy department for youngsters and eye candy for adults. One exhibit popular during the centennial of the Civil War was a panoramic topographic model of the Battle of Westport complete with cannon balls and miniature Rebels and Yanks dead or alive. On the west side of the building there was a French baroque sitting room or parlor. My initial thought was: "Where did someone get the money for this?" We had a tough time just acquiring second hand furniture. On the second floor there was a crawl-through igloo that beckoned kids of all ages and their reluctant parents. The oldster history buffs enjoyed the small arms collection on the first floor behind the staircase.
I suspect that the most popular attractions of the Kansas City Museum were the 1500-year-old Inca child mummy and the three Amazon shrunken heads. The mummy was found buried on the side of a mountain in an upright position. My thoughts today on the shrunken heads: “Where did someone get shrunken heads?” The political incorrectness of it all boggles the mind. If they still exist, their ownership could be considered to be a violation of international human rights. Of course, the initial violation of their rights occurred when their killers chopped off their heads. If the display of the heads was a modern art exhibit, things would be different. China’s morbid, yet popular, traveling cadavers’exhibit called “Bodies” in their various action positions elicited raving critical reviews . . . and the public went along with the charade!
I don’t know where the individual gets an appreciation for history. Perhaps it lies in the driving force of curiosity. It certainly does not originate from 99% of history teachers who neither understand their trade nor complement their chosen field with travel or research. For me an appreciation began by osmosis in a confluence of favorable opportunities such as Sunday visits to the old Kansas City Museum.
