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El
Dorado History
Our
Respected Founder, looking sharp.
Whither
the foam conquistador?
Spurred
by the Broadway smash "Man of La Mancha," industrious entrepreneurs
cashed in on the craze, mass-producing foam conquistador
bas reliefs to the delight of refined consumers across America.
They
could just hop in that Spanish-conquistador-named car
and the quixotic search for adventure amidst suburban sprawl
was a mere redecoration away!
Cervantes
had hit prime time, and all things Spanish were the rage
-- black velvet matadors stabbing mighty toros, brass plates
embossed with graceful galleons, and foam busts of merciless
conquistadors were swept off store shelves by greedy connoisseurs.
Nevermind
the gruesome deeds of Cortez severing the neck
of gullible Montezuma, but be entertained by the impaled bull
bleeding in the ring. This is the smell of gold and danger all in the
safety
of your den.
El
Dorado: a dream realized
To
recreate this gilded era of 1960s American design,
El Dorado's curators insist on authenticity.
The mind-numbing minimalism of sterile white-washed art galleries
stocked with painful Swedish furniture don't do justice to these mock
masterpieces.
The
largest collection of simulated conquistador art demanded
a venue extraordinaire, nay, a basement dungeon sans the rays of our
sun
that so tortures fine art. At last, a worthy site! The search for El
Dorado
was realized in 1992: a musty cellar of an ex-Catholic girl's school
once inhabited by strict nuns-sisters who share so much of their religious
zeal
with that of the Spanish Inquisition.
The
punishing severity of these women of the cloth
was no match for the boundless avarice
of aspiring attorneys who founded a law school on this holy site
to produce still more of their ilk. These lawyers, modern-day conquistadors
in search of plunder, have welcomed their like-minded ancestors into
their home.
After all, is not Johnny Cochran just Hernando DeSoto in a three-piece
suit?
Couldn't Ken Starr be a present-day Ponce de León in search of
glory and woe
be unto any primitive souls who bar his way?
The
Conquistador: a lawyer's mascot
The
founders of William Mitchell College of Law wisely chose the conquistador
as their mascot to represent their eternal search for El Dorado: the
City of Gold.
The impossible dream of unlimited booty awaits only the most diligent
barrister.
There is no second place in this quest for coinage;
losers are doomed to Justice's sword (procured in a Tijuana pawn shop).
At
El Dorado Conquistador Museum every attempt has been made to recreate
the unsanitary conditions of a 1970's rec room as well as the Middle
Ages
when the Black Plague ran rampant. The carpet has been carefully stained;
comfortable plush lounge chairs are seldom vacuumed and moldy cheetos
and nacho cheese doritos have been studiously placed under the cushions.
In
an attempt at state-of-the-art, interactive, multi-sensory displays,
a toilet's flushing can be heard nearby the Galleon Gallery
to simultate the battering waves on the bow of a Spanish ship in search
of plunder.
Studiously
located in a used law bookstore with authentic-looking textbooks,
El Dorado features realistic law students to peruse
the tomes to add a touch of credibility to the "bookstore."
The
international recognition of the Conquistador Collection has pushed
the law school renovate yet a larger space for the museum
scheduled to open summer 2004. The matadors will wave their red cloaks
on black velvet; the galleons will still shine from their brass plates;
and the man in the golden helmet will continue to horde his haul.
After all, this is El Dorado, the mythical city of gold.
This
is paradise, found at last.
Go
back to the
El Dorado Home Page
or
see the Treasures
of the Collection
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