Medieval Torture Museum
St. Augustine, Florida
If modern life gets you down, then a visit to the Medieval Torture Museum might be the attitude adjustment you need, at least in the opinion of its creator, Eugene Grach.
Eugene, originally from the Ukraine, exudes American optimism and is "a big teddy bear" according to museum manager Lorrie Olin. Although his museum would look familiar to any Hellraiser fan, he has no interest in gore or horror. "I am very far away from tortures," he told us. "I don't even watch the scary movies."
Eugene said that he fell into his role of torture impresario by accident. On a whim, while visiting the Czech Republic, his wife dragged him into a torture museum, but it was just old equipment displayed behind glass. Eugene felt curiously disappointed. "You cannot touch anything. You don't have real feelings," he recalled. What good is a torture museum, he thought, if it doesn't make you feel bad about torture?
So Eugene decided to bring European torture to America, and do it in a way that would leave a lasting impression.
He chose St. Augustine because it was founded in 1565 -- the closest thing to a medieval city in the U.S. -- and governed for centuries by the Spanish, who were notorious historical torturers.
Eugene stocked his museum with hundreds of horrific devices, reconstructed for him by movie prop-builders using pieces of real medieval torture equipment that he purchased from a variety of "very, very weird people." To increase the shock value of the racks, saws, and bone crushers, Eugene wanted to display them with torture victim wax dummies, but found that such things didn't exist. "We learn that there is no way to buy the bodies," he said. "So we need to learn how to make our own bodies." Eugene paid live actors to pose as if being impaled, pulped, or skinned alive, then used their performances as models for his wax figures.
The resulting museum, its windows covered in burlap, is a dark destination in a city known for its sunny Fountain of Youth (but to be fair, St. Aug also used to be home to the Tragedy in U.S. History Museum).
Individual rooms, lit by candles, are fitted out as real torture chambers. Large devices and their waxy victims occupy the floor, while the dungeon-like walls are covered with torture illustrations, bolted-on accessory equipment -- whips, chains, branding irons -- and smeared with fake blood. Sound effects of moans, sawing, and unidentifiable squishing fills the museum. "It's scary. It looks scary. It sounds scary," said Lorrie. "It's give you much more feelings," said a satisfied Eugene. "It's better to know what has been in past, so not to repeat ever."
Lurid descriptions accompany many of the devices, explaining their history and function. The Mechanical Pear, for example, has a whimsical name, but you wouldn't want it stuck into one of your body cavities.
We asked Lorrie and Eugene what inspired visitors to view exhibits in a torture museum. "You know it's not gonna be good, but you want to see it anyway," said Lorrie. Eugene was more succinct. "It's like a car accident."
Several of the torture devices have signs with the word "Pull," encouraging tourists to participate by dunking a trussed-up woman, roasting a man alive inside a bronze bull, swinging a disemboweling pendulum, or peeking into the Chest of Dismemberment. Visitors can also play the role of victims: sitting in the spiky Armchair of Inquiries, posing in the Pillory and the Drunkard's Cloak, or weighing themselves to see if they're too heavy to be a witch (Most modern American adults are). As memory aids, the museum sells miniatures of several torture devices in its gift shop, including a six-inch-high Iron Maiden.
Does the Medieval Torture Museum accomplish its goal of helping Americans appreciate post-medieval life? Results are mixed. Both Lorrie and Eugene said that some visitors leave the museum crying, and some simply turn around and walk out. Others however, really seem to enjoy it. "I've had people call and ask if they could get married in the torture museum," said Lorrie. "I said, 'Ohhh-kay. Just let me know when the time comes.'"
Despite the occasional miscues, Eugene remains confident that his Medieval Torture Museum has successfully put things in perspective, and stresses that its purpose is tough love, not gratuitous torment.
"Life is not always the honey and the ice cream," he said. "Really, what's going on around us is not bad at all. We live in a beautiful country. Don't be spoiled."