Stops along the strip include a Cajun barbecue shack, a mini-golf built on the ruins of a plantation, and a brothel from which a preacher is either escaping or entering in his underwear. John's most elaborate creation is "River Road," an animated diorama that stretches along one entire wall. In "Tragedy on Dog Pound Road" the button whirls a tornado through a trailer court, spinning the Xmas Tree/Fireworks stand. Push the button on the "New Orleans Jazz Funeral" and an angel and devil fight over a soul rising from an above-ground grave. Taxidermy bayou beasts are a recurring theme - among them are an "Alliduck" and an "Ashtraygator" - and there's a real footprint, found only a few miles away, of the Honey Island Swamp Monster. John has tailored his attraction to the Deep South. Hand-painted signs are everywhere, with messages such as, "Welcome to Mildew City," and, "Ladies Invited and Respected." We recommend getting a pocketful of quarters in the gift shop to feed John's many arcade contraptions "Crisco the Dancing Clown" is widely regarded as the most creepy. "I don't break the chain." Christmas tree bulbs provide illumination. "It's always important to put something new up every day," said John. Maybe John is even more of a madman than Ross Ward.Ĭlutter is crammed onto every surface, including the ceilings and floors: license plates, a quarter-million bottle caps, and possibly the world's largest collection of paint-by-number canvases. John's eye for the unusual, and his odd sense of humor, have created an attraction that's better than the places that inspired it. What's impressive about this post-Age-of-Irony place is its obvious desire to please. In 2005 he rechristened it the Abita Mystery House in honor of the Winchester Mystery House, another venerable attraction whose success he admired. "I eventually realized that you shouldn't have a name you have to explain," said John. John enjoyed the euphony of "Yew-See-Em-Mew-See-Em," but most visitors were confused. It opened in 1998 under the name UCM Museum. "So this," said John with a sweep of his hand, "is all built on the advice of a madman." She said that Ross didn't have a clue about the business side of his attraction. Then one day John called Tinkertown to check some figures and accidentally spoke to one of Ross's assistants. "My wife would say, 'John, don't you think we should have a business plan?' And I'd say, 'You heard what Ross said. John paid attention and built his attraction accordingly. He approached Ross, who over the next few years became a mentor and open spigot of facts and figures: visitor numbers, seasonal peaks and valleys, how much to spend to get how much in return. John felt he had the skills and the junk needed to make his own Tinkertown-style attraction in Louisiana. Its junk-decor aesthetic and hand-build animated displays were a revelation. Then in 1995, on vacation, he accidentally came across Tinkertown, an attraction built by outsider artist Ross Ward. "I knew everything about the black turtleneck art world, but nothing about the folk art world." "I'd always collected stuff and built stuff, but I didn't know what to do with it," said John. John was nearly 50 before fate sent him down this back road. ![]() Yet the Abita Mystery House is a modern-day creation, the vision of John Preble, a professional artist and academic. Even the admission price - three dollars - is a throwback to the nostalgic tourist traps of yore. There's a house covered in thousands of glass shards, a flying saucer crashed into an old Airstream trailer, and the only mine in Louisiana (It's a fake). Monstrous freaks are exhibited, including a "Bassigator" that's 22 feet long. You get to push buttons for all kinds of kooky animated displays. ![]() You enter through a vintage 1930s gas station. It's everything that you imagined a quirky, Old-School-style roadside attraction would be.
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