Before Austin became a mecca for relocated tech bros and rogue podcast personalities, the Texan capital was known as another kind of refuge.
A corner of the South that was home to bohemian layabouts, struggling indie artists, and outcasts of all stripes.
Long before the Waymos and Teslas began to creep along Austin’s famed 6th Street, cars zipping around town had a much different signature, their bumper stickers stamped with one simple, irreverent ethos:
Keep Austin Weird.
The phrase was coined back in 2000 by Red Wassenich, an Austin Community College librarian who called into indie Radio KOOP’s annual pledge drive with a donation that Wassenich hoped would, in his words, “Help Keep Austin Weird."
The motto stuck, the t-shirts were mass-produced, and the rest is radio broadcast history. But Austin’s status as the weird capital of the South didn’t just land on key chains and coffee mugs.
Long before that Radio KOOP call-in, keeping Austin weird was a sort of unspoken, ambient feeling around town, thanks in large part to Richard Linklater’s enigmatic 1990 cult classic, Slacker.
The film follows the likes of many a weird Austinite: UFO conspiracy theorists, JFK truthers, and even a few friendly anarchists.
In 1990, Linklater’s ensemble felt like its own personal freak show. But today, those Slacker sentiments sit at the corner of fringe and fact, thanks to a wave of Rogansphere talking heads that have transformed Austin’s weirdness from mere vibes into bankable views.
Just down the road from Joe Rogan’s wildly popular UFO-themed club, Austin's Comedy Mothership, lies another curious 6th Street gem.
A place that holds within its walls something far freakier than bumper sticker slogans, podcast deep dives, or cult classic freak shows have been able to contain.
A place that holds the history of actual freak shows.
Tucked away in the recesses of 6th Street’s Lucky Lizard Curios & Gifts, behind rows of lucky rabbit’s feet, creepy cryptids, and a life-size replica of Little Shop of Horrors’ Audrey II, sits a hidden treasure, a secret doorway to a world of macabre oddities and forgotten curiosities.
Austin’s Museum of the Weird.
A throwback to the dime store museums that circus magnate PT Barnum first introduced to America during the turn of the century, Austin’s Museum of the Weird is a variable cabinet of curiosities, both real and imagined, each one more uncomfortable and fixating than the next.
We’re talking bearded ladies, shrunken heads, and even a few mermaids.
Opened in New York City in 1842, PT Barnum’s American Museum was the first-of-its-kind, showcasing medical anomalies, archaeological wonders, and of course, some paranormal grifts.
Austin’s Museum of the Weird carries on the PT Barnum tradition, making it one of the few surviving dime museums and an interactive snapshot into the morbid curiosities that once captivated Victorian audiences.
But be forewarned, AO travelers.
Once you step foot past the massive Bigfoot and cross those turnstiles at the back of the Lucky Lizard, there’s no turning back. If you so dare, you’ll be met with:
Two-Headed Cows! Alien Carcasses! Fossilized Fairies!
And the Pangboche Hand: the last known relic of a wild Yeti said to have been smuggled out of an ancient Buddhist temple in the 1950s by silver screen superstar, Jimmy Stewart.
Smuggled out in a suitcase of lingerie, no less. His wife’s lingerie. Not dear old Jimmy’s.
(Not that there’s anything wrong with that!)
The Pangboche Hand was eventually debunked as a hoax, like many of the anomalies found inside the Museum of the Weird. But for the real archaeology enthusiasts, the Museum of the Weird has got you covered.
There’s the preserved trigger finger of infamous Mexican bandit, Pancho Villa - what some might consider the Tex-Mex Holy Grail.
Then there’s the museum’s authentic 3,000-year-old Egyptian mummy.
Fully sealed in an airtight glass crypt, rest easy knowing that any lingering ancient esoteric curses - or killer smells - will be kept safely at bay for onlookers.
For the movie buffs out there, you can get your fortune told by a working Zultan machine, just like the one found in the plot to 1988’s Big.
(No refunds though if you wake up the next morning looking like Tom Hanks.)
For the horror enthusiasts, wander over to the museum’s Sfanthor Chamber of Horrors, a creepy corridor of life-size wax figures that trace the history of horror from avant garde silent film to Universal’s monster movie heyday.
Not only is Austin’s Museum of the Weird a home to Boris Karloff’s Frankenstein and Bela Lugosi’s Dracula, but it was also once the actual home to Edward Scissorhands himself - Johnny Depp.
Depp lived in an upstairs apartment above the would-be museum during the filming of 1993’s What’s Eating Gilbert Grape.
For patrons left feeling a little too spooked and in need of a few spirits, fear not - the Museum of the Weird happens to be flanked by two restaurant bars: The Jackalope and The Chupacabra Cantina.
Just steps away from the museum, these two dives are perfect spots to continue on with your cryptid curiosities.
When my friends and I visited Austin this past February for a UFO-themed live show at the iconic Paramount Theatre, we were super stoked to find the Museum of the Weird just steps away from our hotel.
The museum’s proximity felt like a cosmic invitation, an extension of the night we spent exploring the outer limits of reality and all things weird.
A major bonus we discovered upon arrival was the hospitality of the staff behind the Museum of the Weird.
Their big draw attraction, known as The Creature in Ice, happened to be down for maintenance. Without skipping a beat, the team gave us all a free bumper sticker for the inconvenience.
That Museum of the Weird sticker, radioactively glowing in its fun horror-pop font, still sits on my laptop case today, forever a reminder of Austin’s dedication to curating an eclectic history.
But most of all, that sticker reminds me of the weird and wonderful wonders my friends and I discovered that day in Austin, the Museum of the Weird’s truly chill staff, and quite cornily, the scrapbook of memories we made along the way.
Each time I crack open my laptop to type away about some wild conspiracy or one-off roadside attraction, I'm reminded of the rich history of collectors, contrarians, and all-around slackers that continue to preserve an unusual slice of American history.
And of course, Keep Austin Weird.
