If she were alive today, Helen Clay Frick would certainly be a member of Shopaholics Anonymous. Man, could that woman spend Daddy's money!

There's the regal parlor organ from 1750 or so that she purchased in 1967. Four years later, she bought Antoine Le Nain's oil and copper Le Benedicite ("The Blessing" for those of us who only understand English), a teeny oil on copper gem that's so precious Frick Art & Historical Center curator Sarah Hall chooses this piece as the one she would save if -- hypothetically, of course -- The Frick caught on fire and she could only rescue one work.

That's just two of too many.

I wander around The Frick's art museum, a cavernous mausoleum built by Helen and opened in 1970 as a gift to Pittsburgh, imagining, even if just for an hour or so, that I am in the Uffizi or Versailles. How ironic that the Clodion French Rococo marble urn -- a massive objet d' rt dating back to 1782 with handles in the shape of ram heads and adorned with playful satyrs and nymphs -- is one of a set that actually came from the terrace of Versailles. How Helen got that thing home is beyond me ... was FedEx even around then?

The most impressive works are those from the Renaissance period, mostly diptychs and triptychs, quite religious in nature, that are so well-illuminated you might want to consider donning sunglasses. Here is where Saint Catherine of Alexandria is on display, the one work Frick director William Bodine would save from that same hypothetical fire. What's especially interesting is that some of the pieces also have images painted on their reverse sides, visible only if you have X-ray vision or if you're an inquiring journalist who asks the curator to don special gloves and actually unhinge a triptych from the wall, as she did with "Madonna and Child Enthroned With Scenes of Christ's Passion." Saint Anthony and Saint Francis are on the back, looking as good as they did where they were first painted in the 13th century.

The Frick is actually a series of buildings dotting five acres of lawns and gardens, and each is worth a visit. There's the greenhouse (wait until spring). There's the cafe (great food, great views, great service, great prices). There's the playhouse (Helen and her brother Childs' indoor playground, now converted into a visitors center and gift shop; make sure you stop and see part of the bowling alley, most of which lies under the shop). There's Clayton, the 23-room mansion where Henry Clay Frick and his wife raised their kiddies. President Theodore Roosevelt once showed up for lunch -- one of the courses was sweetbreads and peas, a dish not on the cafe menu. Most of the house's furnishings are authentic and the adventure is fun, but it's a bit eerie to step into Mama Adelaide's bedroom with her personal belongings laid out ... if she didn't make an unexpected appearance, I was certain Norman's mother, Mrs. Bates, would. It's also here where you can learn more about Helen's life, from doting daughter to compulsive collector. She never married, and many agree that her relationship with Daddy was, shall we say, a bit odd.

Then there's the car and carriage museum. For me, a great car is one that gets me from here to there without a problem. For Henry Clay Frick, it was a Rolls-Royce Silver Ghost, bought (used!) in 1919 for $4,800 (about $60,000 in current dollars). When he died that same year, Helen took possession of the car, racking up 8,752 miles on its odometer.

There are many other vehicles on display, reminding us that Pittsburgh was once home to a small number of car makers, back in a time when gas was, as the vintage pump indicates, about 20.9 cents a gallon (about $2.60 in current dollars).

Now I could be cute and say you "auto" go to the Frick; instead, let me steer you differently, and strongly suggest parking yourself at the Frick for a day or two. Make advance lunch reservations. Make advance Clayton tour reservations.

And who knows? Helen -- or Mrs. Bates -- may make an appearance.

Breakfast with...