Travel Reference
In-Depth Information
“Yeah. I must have been here twenty, thirty times by now. This is a real shrine, you know.”
“You think it's well done?” “Oh, for sure.”
“Would you say the house is just like Twain described it in his topics?”
“I don't know,” the man said thoughtfully. “I've never read one of his topics.”
Next door, attached to the house, was a small museum, which was better. There were cases
of Twain memorabilia—first editions, one of his typewriters, photographs, some letters.
There was precious little to link him to the house or the town. It is worth remembering
that Twain got the hell out of both Hannibal and Missouri as soon as he could, and was al-
ways disinclined to come back. I went outside and looked around. Beside the house was a
white fence with a sign saying, TOM SAWYER'S FENCE. HERE STOOD THE BOARD
FENCE WHICH TOM SAWYER PERSUADED HIS GANG TO PAY HIM FOR THE
PLEASURE OF WHITEWASHING. TOM SAT BY AND SAW THAT IT WAS WELL
DONE.Reallywakesupyourinterestinliterature,doesn'tit?NextdoortotheTwainhouse
and museum-and I mean absolutely right next to it-was the Mark Twain Drive-In Restaur-
antandDinette,withcarsparkedinlittlebaysandpeoplegrazingofftraysattachedtotheir
windows. It really lent the scene a touch of class. I began to understand why Clemens not
just left town but also changed his name.
Istrolledaroundthebusinessdistrict.Thewholeareawasadispiritingcombinationofauto
partsstores,emptybuildingsandvacantlots.Ihadalwaysthoughtthatallrivertowns,even
the poor ones, had something about them-a kind of faded elegance, a raffish air-that made
themmoreinterestingthanothertowns,thattheriverservedasaconduittothelargerworld
and washed up a more interesting and sophisticated brand of detritus. But not Hannibal. It
had obviously had better days, but even they couldn't have been all that great. The Hotel
Mark Twain was boarded up. That's a sad sight-a tall building with every window plugged
with plywood. Every business in town appeared to trade on Twain and his topics-the Mark
Twain Roofing Company, the Mark Twain Savings and Loan, the Tom 'n' Huck Motel,
the Injun Joe Campground and Go-Kart Track, the Huck Finn Shopping Center. You could
even go and be insane at the Mark Twain Mental Health Center-a possibility that would, I
imagine, grow increasingly likely with every day spent in Hannibal. The whole place was
sad and awful. I had been planning to stay for lunch, but the thought of having to face a
Tom Sawyer Burger or Injun Joe Cola left me without any appetite for either food or Han-
nibal.
I walked back to the car. Every parked car along the street had a license plate that said,
MISSOURI-THE SHOW ME STATE. I wondered idly if this could be short for “Show
