Sometimes it feels great to get outta Dodge, even if it’s just for a day. My headquarters are in Southeast Iowa, and I’ve got a good friend over in Springfield, Illinois, so about once a year he and I find a spot in between to rendezvous. It’s not like that. We’re just really good friends.
Halfway puts us right about at Hannibal, Missouri, the boyhood stomping grounds of beloved American author and humorist Mark Twain (born Samuel Langhorne Clemens). By default, or luck, this funky little river town is one we’ve gotten quite familiar with over the past decade.
Like most little towns and small cities in the Midwest, Hannibal’s a little crumbly around the edges, fighting to stay alive and relevant like the rest of us. But this historically significant spot has a lot going for it: beautiful views, some great museums, and a colorful vibe that tourists like Kevin and I continue to enjoy every time we visit.
Art, Spooks & Secondhand Moseying
Upon our first visit to downtown Hannibal, Kev and I stepped into an antique shop, one of many on Main Street, to peruse used books, antique art, and vintage knick knacks. “Oh my God,” I said to Kevin, who was immersed in secondhand heaven, “this place smells exactly like my grandparents’ old farmhouse.” I don’t know if it was the cigarette smoke from decades past that had nestled into every crack and cranny of the place, but I was catching a strange and heavenly whiff of the past, which I suppose can be said of the entire town: It’s a strange but heavenly whiff of the past.
The Mark Twain Boyhood Home & Museum boasts seven historic properties and museums to explore, many of which are depicted in his autobiographically inspired novels. But for me, the crème de la crème is its Norman Rockwell art collection at the Mark Twain Museum & Gallery downtown.
In 1935, iconic American artist Norman Rockwell was commissioned by Heritage Press to illustrate special editions of The Adventures of Tom Sawyer and Huckleberry Finn. Decades later, Rockwell donated the originals to the Mark Twain Museum. I’d studied the image of Tom Sawyer Whitewashing the Fence many times in print; at a young age I’d been slightly obsessed with Norman Rockwell. It was thrilling to see the original oil in person, however small. In the beautiful gift shop on the museum’s first floor, I picked up my own crisp copy of the classic novel.
If you’re looking for creepier versions of Hannibal history, the place has no shortage of haunted houses and spooky tours; apparently there are ghosts of a Civil War soldier and five-year-old-girl playing peek-a-boo at the Old Baptist Cemetery. Although we did visit a screamy little wax museum for a good laugh and a little lighthearted horror, most of our adventures have remained out of doors.
Pretty Walks & Scenic Drives
Kevin and I have made it a tradition upon each visit to drive northwest a few miles to Riverview Park, a multi-pronged clifftop recreational area that, at its northernmost point, features a loop drive that overlooks the Mississippi from high, high above. Unloading our pockets full of old-fashioned wax-paper taffy candy procured from one of the gift shops downtown, we like to sit on the grassy knoll and enjoy our vintage sweets as we soak up the magnificent view that goes on for miles and comes with a complementary eagle drifting around on the breezy currents.
On our last visit, as we waited for our favorite restaurant to open for dinner, we stumbled upon the Maple Avenue Historic District just a few blocks west of the main drag—an architectural treasure of Federal, Italianate, Late Victorian, and Georgian Revival styles. A handful of the buildings in that neighborhood, succumbing to gravity, erosion, and now-ancient foundations, are just a breath away from toppling over. But there are dozens of amazing homes that are clearly still lived in and loved—eye-candy Victorian-era houses with ornate, colorful trim are sandwiched between stately, ivy-covered brick homes enhanced by tidy gardens. In a particularly lovely pocket we explored while endeavoring, on foot, to find the highest property on the hill, the houses were big, the yards were small, and the inclines were dramatic, making for an athletic walk, a marvelous architectural tour, and a great appetizer.
Speaking of Food
Kevin and I are suckers for a good ol’ greasy spoon and have enjoyed several bacon-y breakfasts at Becky Thatcher’s Diner. Political correctness be damned, I will never tire of the coffee-slinging server who calls me “hon” as she hands me my pancakes.
Come afternoon, we find Java Jive to be a pleasantly vast downtown joint with ample room to park our butts when our dogs are tired from exploring Main Street gift shops and museums. Serving not just coffee creations and pastries, this popular java shop also offers house-made quiche, fresh lunch fare, and hand-dipped ice cream. If you time your visit just right, you might be treated to a jangly tune or two (compliments of a fellow customer) on the antique upright piano near the front window. Ragtime or Rachmaninoff, it’s anybody’s guess.
Our favorite dinner spot is LaBinnah Bistro, a European-style “casual fine dining” restaurant located on the first floor of a modest historic building on North 5th Street. Offering a flowery but eccentric ambience that’s entirely un-snooty, its succinct but wide-ranging menu attracts locals and visitors alike. Spelled “Hannibal” backwards, LaBinnah offers dishes Kev and I never tire of trying—from Turkish family-favorite recipes like Shrimp Istanbul (an “authentic, exotic mixture of fresh shrimp, tomatoes, garlic, golden raisins, blended spices, and a hint of cinnamon!”) to spicy African Peri-Peri, and even standards like Surf & Turf. It’s a special-occasion spot we enjoy, with a glass of wine, before our heads hit the pillow at the cheapest Airbnb we can find—because we prefer to spend our limited dollars at dinner.
Caves ’n’ Cruises
Caves are a recurring theme in Tom Sawyer and Huck Finn lore, so it seemed a fitting adventure to tour the Mark Twain Cave Complex just south of town. One of two popular show caves, Mark Twain Cave, originally “McDowell’s Cave,” has a mysterious and rather sordid history. Once used by physician (and mad scientist) Joseph Nash McDowell as a laboratory for research on human corpses, the cave also served as a perverse temporary mausoleum for his own deceased daughter—until the townspeople threw a fit and demanded she receive a traditional burial. As legend goes, the cave was also a brief hideout for Jessie James, who couldn’t help but sign his name on the 350 million-year-old limestone wall.
Kevin’s tendency toward claustrophobia (who knew!?) almost put the kibosh on our soft-core spelunking idea, but he ultimately decided “when in Rome,” and handled the subterranean trek valiantly. We chose to tour Cameron Cave. Though not as flashy and less Tom-Sawyer-centric than the Mark Twain Cave experience, our underground journey offered a twisty-turny hike—nothing too crampy—fascinating history and geology, and complimentary flashlights. At a cool year-round internal temp of 56 degrees, it was a refreshing tour on a hot day. If Kevin was panicking, he hid it well.
Next on our agenda, maybe sometime this summer, is a dinner cruise on the Mississippi—with live music, dancing, a buffet dinner, and a bit of river history. Well. We’ll see about the dancing.
And while Kev maybe not be a candidate for touring a second cave (best not push my luck), perhaps he’d accompany me to the protected Sodalis Nature Preserve, where we wouldn’t go cave exploring so much as watch an impressive show of Myotis sodalis bats winging in and out of the park’s multiple gated caves come sunset. Call me batty, but I find bats to be adorable. And by the way, it’s an urban myth that they like to fly into, and get caught in, human hair. Yes, I think the bats will round out our Hannibal experience nicely.
