American Sign Museum

Cincinnati, Ohio

Tod Swormstedt was genetically preordained to love signs. His great-grandfather was the first editor of Signs of the Times, a trade journal for the sign industry. His father is the current president and CEO, his brother is editor/publisher, and Tod was the editor/publisher and wrote for the journal for 26 years.

Now, says Tod, "I just work in the museum full-time."

That would be The American Sign Museum, which is a dream-come-true for Tod Swormstedt. "You might call it my mid-life crisis project," he explains.

The Museum opened in 2005 on the north side of downtown Cincinnati, Ohio, with 3,800 feet of exhibit space and almost 200 signs. "We start about the late 1960s and go backwards," Tod says. "We cover EVERY type of sign: gold leaf glass, paint, neon, porcelain..." Tod ticks off a list in his head, knowing what he has and what he's missing. "What we're trying to do is to get as many types of signs from as many parts of the country built by as many sign companies using as many materials from as many eras as possible."

It hasn't been easy for Tod, who had to endure rejection -- or, at least, mild indifference -- in three different cities before his museum opened here, conveniently in his home town. He still fights misperceptions within the public. "My biggest problem," he confides, "is the preconception among people that this is gonna be an old barn with a bunch of rusty old signs. Then when they get here they go, 'Oh. Holy shit.' "

Highlights of the Museum include a large boot, key, and pair of eyeglasses; a neon windmill; a globe circled by a ring of neon cars, an early Big Boy, and perhaps the earliest painting ever of Col. Sanders. "If you ask me, 'Is it fine art or commercial art?' Tod reflects, "I'd say the only difference between fine art and commercial art is the number of zeros behind the dollar sign."

Two 20-foot-tall, two-faced fiberglass "Carpet Genies" are a recent acquisition -- one now stands outside the entrance -- and show a direction in which the Museum is headed: upwards. Tod is excited that the Museum is buying a new building, 40,000 square feet with 28-foot-high ceilings, so that its big signs can be displayed indoors, where they will be protected. Most of them (except for the genie) are currently in a warehouse.

"There's plenty to see now," Tod explains. "I just have a bigger vision." We're hoping that vision won't cause too many power brownouts for Cincinnati....

Until the new building opens -- Tod figures in August 2007 -- the Museum can be visited by appointment only. Tod conducts the tours himself, and he estimates that they last from 90 minutes to two hours. One of the reasons for the extended tour is that Tod wants to get beyond what he calls "the emotional attachment" that people have to signs, of using signs to recall products and memories rather than seeing the signs as worthy themselves. "I want people to leave with a deeper appreciation of what goes into the design and fabrication of a sign," he says. "I explain the history of signs. I talk about the three eras of electric signs: the pre-neon era, the neon era, and the plastic era. I put them in an historical context."

He's preaching to the choir, of course -- we know that small awkwardly designed signs are just as telling about highway culture as fancy, art deco cantilevered monoliths. But Tod knows more than us about signs. A lot more.

"This is what I do full-time," Tod says. "Or more than full time. My office is in the basement of the magazine, which is five minutes down the street. I do tours Saturday night, Sunday morning, Monday afternoon. All the time."