Places krisengles Wants to Go

A blank headstone topped with a pile of pennies marks the final resting place of the infamous assassin.

A 200-year-old bar with a cheeky name claims to have served Edgar Allan Poe his final drink.

The site where Poe “in great distress, and ... in need of immediate assistance” likely died.

The trials and tribulations of marking Poe’s grave.

It’s not hard to see why the historic Peabody Conservatory of Music’s library has been described as a “cathedral of books.”

The renowned author spent 22 summers of his early life along the shore of Walloon Lake.

A bronze sculpture dedicated to a historic labor dispute in the U.S. automotive industry.

A comprehensive archive of Hallmark Holiday ornaments.

Classic burger joint that’s been serving up sliders since 1952.

The final resting place of the visionary founders of Kelloggs, a global leader in breakfast cereals.

This marker tells the story of a town’s toxic past.

Although outnumbered, the Tecumseh Confederacy defeated a large regiment of United States troops.

Miners in Michigan developed a taste for Cornish beef pasties, which this roadside stand has been selling since 1947.

For books about travel, whether factual or fictional, the perfect antiquarian does exist.

The statues honor the state transportation employees who've died while performing their work-related duties.

The birthplace of professional hockey on the shores of Portage Lake.

This life-sized effigy commemorates the dedicated abolitionist and social reformer.

This public baseball field is a beloved remainder from of one of the most historic stadiums in the country.

Advice-columnist's bell tower, paid for with pennies.

Where else would you expect to find the gravesite of European royalty than the windswept dunes of rural Northern Michigan?

The origin of the Nixon tapes is rooted in technological incompetence as much as secrecy.

This tree was warped centuries ago to serve as a botanical wayfaring tool.

In Grand Rapids, Michigan, a marker honors the creation story of a proud fictional culture.

This resort community was known as the "Black Eden of Michigan."