Rattlesnakes, rock'n'roll and rude business

The minor museums of the south central states of America are irresistible, says GRAHAM REID



Chances are I won't ever get back to Tucumcari in New Mexico, but that won't trouble me much. There wasn't a lot there. The restaurants were closed by 9pm - Lotsaburger lived up to its name, however - and the museum which had been the major attraction with its collection of barbed wire wasn't open either.

No matter, there are museums aplenty down the highways and old roads of America. We are still laughing about the Rattlesnake Museum in Albuquerque. It is in a corner shop just off the main square of the sleepy Old Town where people sell Mexican and Indian wares on the street.

The Rattlesnake Museum doesn't look much from the front, just a doorway through which you see an extraordinary number of snake and reptile-related merchandise such as T-shirts, fridge magnets, caps and other (mostly) cheap stuff. But pay $2.50, then walk through to the back and you are confronted with at least eight different types of rattlers and dozens of other skinny scaly things in glass-front display cases.

And there is more: a large collection of beer and soda bottles which have snakes, alligators and the like as their logos; fetish objects and reptile curios from around the world; snake-related number plates from around the States; a tall Art Deco lampstand in the shape of a cobra; an old opium holder carved like a skull with a snake coiling through the dead eyes ...

This is a snake-lover's dream. After this much reptilian repulsion and amusement you just want to get back into the shop and buy a snake-decorated beer cooler.

In San Angelo - a small but elegantly attractive town in the centre of Texas - we are diverted by another kind of museum, Miss Hattie's Bordello. This house of ill-repute ran for about 50 years until 1948 when it was closed down by a well-meaning Texas Ranger new to town.

The place was boarded up for more than 20 years and when a new owner took over it was opened up to reveal Miss Hattie's and her working women's beds, linoleum, carpets and decor. All were largely intact.

It is a fascinating period piece and the straight-faced conducted tour is excellent value at US$3. You can take all the photos you like.

A tip: have lunch (or better, dinner) in Miss Hattie's Cafe and Saloon a few doors down. This beautifully restored building, with mirrors the size of pool tables and chintzy period furnishings, was once the old bank. It was where many of Miss Hattie's customers would enter, before sneaking up the back way into her comfortable, homely bordello. Off the menu we liked the $5.50 Brothel Burger: "Just the meat between the buns".

Miss Hattie's final years are sad - syphilis drove her crazy - but she had a long life. Longer than the unfortunate Buddy Holly whose career as a hit-maker lasted only 18 months and was curtailed when his plane went down in a snowstorm in February 1959. He was 22.

That wouldn't seem to give a museum much to work with but the Buddy Holly Centre in his hometown Lubbock in the flatlands of west Texas offers a terrific overview of his life and music with loads of memorabilia donated by family and friends. It's informative and tasteful.

But if you want amusing trivia buy the nodding-head Buddy doll from the gift shop for your car's back window. I did.

Holly's grave - the headstone reads "Holley", the original spelling - in the city cemetery is worth a visit, too. It is a humble marker that allows quiet contemplation on the life of a musical genius who was taken too soon.

But enough of this standing around gravesides. We point the nose of our car towards San Antonio. I've heard it has a circus museum and the Buckhorn Saloon and Museum of cowboy memorabilia with lots of guns. As well as the Alamo, of course.

It would be a shame not to remember the Alamo. Right?

* Graham Reid is a Herald feature writer on holiday in the United States. He is travelling courtesy of BMW.