ROUTE THE MAGAZINE THAT CELEBRATES ROAD TRAVEL, VINTAGE AMERICANA AND ROUTE 66
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Buck Atom’s Cosmic Curios Browse Oklahoma gifts in the heart of Tulsa. Then snap a pic with the iconic, 21-foot-tall space cowboy!
Order a free Oklahoma Route 66 Passport at TravelOK.com!
Ed Galloway’s Totem Pole Park
In Chelsea, discover the world’s largest concrete totem pole & marvel at a collection of handcrafted fiddles.
2 ROUTE Magazine
Route 66 Historical Village
Explore relics from Tulsa’s storied past, like a Frisco 4500 Steam Engine, towering oil derrick & replica gas station.
Discover more awe-inspiring attractions at Travel
POPS
In Arcadia, sample 700 soda flavors & grab a photo with the world’s largest pop bottle, a 66-foot-tall neon landmark!
.com.
Stafford Air & Space Museum
See a Gemini spacecraft, Titan rocket, fighter jets & more at this amazing Weatherford museum. ROUTE Magazine 3
Very small. Very friendly. Very Route 66. Atlanta | Lincoln | Elkhart Logan County Tourism Bureau DestinationLoganCountyIL.com 217-732-8687
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True Visit the gorgeous place where real Native culture, true Western heritage, and Route 66 converge at 6,467 feet.
Culture on Route 66 Explore the arts and cultures of the Navajo/Diné and Zuni Pueblo, neighbors of Gallup, in the shops and events all along Route 66.
Shopping and Experiences on Route 66 Get behind the scenes and explore trading posts, artist demos, moccasin manufacturing, tour a historic theatre and more.
Stay on Route 66 40 hotels with over 2,300 rooms, including the historic El Rancho Hotel, conveniently along Route 66 and Interstate 40.
Plan your Route 66 adventures in Gallup, New Mexico, today. .COM ROUTE Magazine 7
CONTENTS
National Route 66 Museum in Elk City, OK. Photograph by Efren Lopez/Route66Images.
22 The Easter Island of Route 66
By Nick Gerlich Arizona’s envious stretch of Route 66 is packed with quirky roadside attractions that were designed to pull motorists off the highway. While many of them have faded with time, new destinations have still risen to take their place. Gregg Arnold’s odd, unexpected stop is a welcomed addition that fits right in.
30 Indestructible
By Heide Brandes One thing that the Mother Road has in spades is a sense of history. The entire road is packed with museums and refurbished restaurants, motels, petrol stations, Civil War sites, and a plethora of amazing folks. Yet, with all that the highway has to share with travelers, the most photographed attraction is a simple but elegant red round barn in tiny Arcadia, Oklahoma. Find out why.
40 A Conversation with Kenny Loggins
By Brennen Matthews Few musicians and songwriters in the ‘80s were as successful as this issue’s featured artist. Deservedly known as the “King of Movie Soundtracks”, Kenny Loggins has more than a few stories to tell.
52 On the Prairie
By Cheryl Eichar Jett The lesser-known but picturesque village of Elkhart is home to a delightful couple with a colorful tale to tell, and an amazing little café and gift shop. Discover what a real Route 66 welcome looks like at the Wild Hare Cafe. 8 ROUTE Magazine
66 Munger Moss
By Ahlanna Becket How does a little motel compete in an overcrowded market where discerning guests have an enormous number of venues to choose from? If you happen to be located along Route 66, be 75 years old, and have one of the most recognizable signs on the road, you don’t need to. Yet, the ride has not always been smooth. Meet Ramona Lehman and dive into the story behind this iconic Missouri landmark.
74 Ghosts of Jericho
By Nick Gerlich Abandoned towns are nothing new in the southwest. There are many of them. But few are as accessible as Jericho. Little is left now other than an old tourist court, some rusting vehicles, and crumbling buildings; there is an air of calmness in Jericho that makes it stand out. However, things are starting to happen again in this little Texas ghost town.
ON THE COVER The Lauterbach Giant in Springfield, IL. Photograph by David J. Schwartz – Pics On Route 66.
ROUTE Magazine 9
EDITORIAL I am a huge fan of music, especially the road trip variety. I am on the road for long trips down South or across Route 66 at least twice a year, and after a long winter, I am always itching to feel the freedom of the highway and the asphalt beneath my slightly worn tires. Music is such an important part of our travels and for me, a key part of my memory making. I have a road trip playlist that I refuse to listen to throughout the year. These songs are sacred. I don’t want to overdo them. I hear them and they take me to a special place; a quiet, emotive place on the two-lane highway. After a trip, I put them aside and patiently wait to get back in the car and go again. In this issue, we are sharing 13 songs, some of which may be new to many of you. Of course, there are the essentials like Chuck Berry’s version of Route 66, or George Strait’s Amarillo by Morning. There is Take It Easy by The Eagles, Life is a Highway by Tom Cochrane, and Tucumcari Tonight by Brian Langlinais, these are a must, but the song choices that we offer you in this issue represent a more surreal voice for America and a more reflective enhancement to your time on the open road. As Spring is now upon us and the welcome reality of longer days and warmer sunshine is here, why not celebrate by pulling together a fresh playlist and making some time to explore 2021’s America. It is still out there! America’s Highway is blessed to have a number of restored, well-functioning motels still under the care of passionate folks. The Wagon Wheel Motel in Cuba, Missouri, the Blue Swallow in Tucumcari, Springfield, Missouri’s Rail Haven, and the colorful Boots Court in Carthage, Missouri, are great examples, but right there beside them on the envious list is the Munger Moss Motel. Iowa natives Bob (late) and Ramona Lehman have been switching on their fabulous sign and welcoming guests since 1971. It’s an iconic property with a great story in its own right but wait until you learn more about the Lehmans and their unexpected journey. Back up in Illinois, a sweet little café is the central spot in an equally endearing village called Elkhart. The Wild Hare Cafe with its cool art gallery-cum-gift shop and homemade pies, soups, and food, offers up something unique on the road. There is an otherworldly sensation in this tiny spot on Illinois’ wonderful stretch of Route 66. Elkhart is a destination that, as humble as it may be, does Illinois proud. Owners, Peter and Andrea Niehaus, have lived a tale and a half—from Michigan to South Africa to small-town America—a story that will inspire and fascinate you. America’s Main Street is not wanting when it comes to kitschy roadside attractions either. There are giant arrows, wigwams, totem poles, an enormous whale and soda bottle, there is a bottle tree ranch, a big red round barn, and more murals than a traveler can photograph in a month, but there is also a gigantic green head down in Arizona, just on the outskirts of Kingman. Giganticus Headicus is the home and brainchild of artist Gregg Arnold. Out there in the middle of the Arizona desert, Arnold greets visitors who pull off the highway, stunned by the unexpected sight of a huge grinning head. Newer to the road, Arnold and his attractions present visitors with a refreshing reminder that it may be an old road, but it is a living one too, and all are welcome, especially if they have a crazy idea to bring travelers. I have worked with a number of well-respected magazines in my career, however, ROUTE is the first title that I’ve helmed where advertising was as beloved as the stories. Many of you have written to express your appreciation for the fabulous towns and states, restaurants, hotels, and more that advertise in our pages. We’ve heard comments such as “The advertising is like more editorial” and “I pay as much attention to the brilliant ads as I do the great stories,” many times. This is rare. It’s unique and special. And we agree with you. The love and care that our advertisers take to present themselves to you and to share what they offer is fantastic. This season as you head out on the road, please make sure to prioritize them, and don’t forget to let them know that you’ve seen them in ROUTE’s pages. This season, show some extra love to the towns and businesses wanting to welcome you. After a turbulent 2020, they really do need all of our support. These stories and a lot more fill our pages in this issue of ROUTE. Please remember to like and follow us on social media and if you have not already, please consider subscribing. Your support is hugely valued. Safe travels, Brennen Matthews Editor 10 ROUTE Magazine
ROUTE PUBLISHER Thin Tread Media EDITOR Brennen Matthews DEPUTY EDITOR Kate Wambui EDITOR-AT-LARGE Nick Gerlich LEAD EDITORIAL PHOTOGRAPHER David J. Schwartz LAYOUT AND DESIGN Tom Heffron EDITORIAL ASSISTANTS Felix Argent (intern) Taylor Hadfield (intern) Theresa Romano DIGITAL Matheus Alves ILLUSTRATOR Jennifer Mallon CONTRIBUTORS AND PHOTOGRAPHERS Ahlanna Beckett Army Historical Foundation Bret Kauppila Cheryl Eichar Jett Claudio Lenati Edward Keating Efren Lopez/Route66Images Heide Brandes John Smith John Moore Leslie Hassler Marshall Hawkins Megan Marshall Melissa Whitney Phoebe Billups Pontiac-Oakland Automobile Museum Editorial submissions should be sent to brennen@routemagazine.us To subscribe visit www.routemagazine.us. Advertising inquiries should be sent to advertising@routemagazine.us or call 905 399 9912. ROUTE is published six times per year by Thin Tread Media. No part of this publication may be copied or reprinted without the written consent of the publisher. The views expressed by the contributors are not necessarily those of the publisher, editor or staff. ROUTE does not take any responsibility for unsolicited manuscripts or photography.
ROUTE Magazine 11
Route 66 is a road of many vistas. You venture past the forests and lakes of Missouri, across the rolling plains of Oklahoma, along the flat grasslands of the Texas Panhandle, over the mountains and high desert of New Mexico, past the pine forests and Grand Canyon in Arizona, and through the southern stretch of the Mojave Desert in California. But as you begin the journey in the prairies of Illinois, you’ll come across a sight that’ll remind you that sometimes it isn’t just what’s along the Mother Road that creates memories—sometimes it’s the road itself. Branching west from Illinois Route 4 as Snell Road and then curving south onto Curran, just a quarter of a mile north of Auburn, this 1.4 miles of red brick stands out from the entire rest of Route 66. This is the Historic Brick Road. In the beginning, this stretch of Illinois was a dirt path that ferried carriages and early automobiles from the railroad town of Auburn, established in 1865. By the 1900s, the dirt wasn’t cutting it anymore—grooves, potholes, and mud endlessly frustrated travelers. As such, the government laid gravel along the path in 1915, all the way from Chicago to east St. Louis. This new road became the Pontiac Trail. Sadly, it didn’t take long for the gravel too, to wear out its welcome, as three years later, in 1918, the government issued a bond to replace the Pontiac Trail with a paved road officially called State Bond Issue Highway 4. “They started working on it, I believe, in 1922,” said Geoff Ladd, Assistant Director of the Illinois Route 66 Scenic Byway, “but it started showing up on the 1924 maps, and when Route 66 was commissioned in 1926, it somewhat permanently replaced Route 4.” Change happened quickly in those days, and by 1930 it was decided that the sharp turns and winding course of the old highway were too dangerous for travelers, and Route 66 was realigned further east, between Springfield and Staunton. The old road regained the name of State Route 4, and though it saw far less traffic than the redirected Route, prospectors saw it as an opportunity to make a change. “The earliest of these paved roads were Portland Cement,” explained Ladd, “and when they changed that particular 1.4 miles to brick, they were essentially testing methods of pavers, and they decided to use some Illinois brick in that area to see how it stood up to the test of time and travel as compared to 12 ROUTE Magazine
Portland Cement. We can surmise, because there’s very little brick highway left anywhere in the country, that it really wasn’t that practical over time. And, of course, it was hand-laid brick, so, even over 1.4 miles, [that was] quite a significant task to take on.” The renovation changed the Road’s trajectory somewhat, giving it gentler curves that cut off a corner of the original Portland Cement road, which is still visible today in a cornfield north of Hambuch Road. But by 1932, around the same time that the Brick Road was completed, State Route 4 was relocated as well, abandoning the redone road in much the same manner. The Brick Road remained in place for the following 65 years. In 1997, the Illinois Department of Transportation (IDOT) drafted a plan to uproot half of the road to make way for a new truck route. Three history-conscientious individuals—John Weiss, Lenore Weiss, and Dorothy McMullan—strongly opposed the project. “We stepped in and said, ‘Wait a minute, this is pulling tourists into your area,’” explained McMullan, former Educator with the Illinois Department of Corrections. “So, we went ahead and wrote [the road] up [into the National Register of Historic Places]. IDOT weren’t happy with us, of course, because progress is usually the enemy of preservation.” The addition of the road to the NRHP in 1998 didn’t guarantee its protection, however, and IDOT predicted that in a few years, it would wear out enough to the point where it would need replacing anyway. They underestimated the bricks’ perseverance. By 2002, the road was as intact as ever, and the state settled on an alternate path. The only replacements made were for the two bridges over Panther Creek, which were too narrow for trucks to pass. They maintain their 1920s architecture. Today, as many as 25,000 people visit the Road per year. Having stood the test of time, these bricks, though certainly impractical for additional road construction, have earned their place in history. The Historic Brick Road may not follow its exact original alignment, and its unique surface may have appeared after it separated from the Mother Road, but there’s no doubting the appeal that it brings to the modern Route. If you wish to take in the sights privy to travelers in the early years of Route 66, you can’t go wrong in following the red Brick Road.
Image by David J. Schwartz – Pics On Route 66.
FOL LOW T H E R E D B R IC K ROA D
The Road is Alive
SPRINGFIELD, IL Josh Waldmire – Cozy Dog Drive In
Sam Quais – Maid-Rite
Ron Metzger – Route 66 Motorheads Bar, Grill & Museum
Doug Knight – Knights Action Park & Route 66 Drive-In
John Fulgenzi – Fulgenzi’s Pizza & Pasta
Stacy Grundy – Route History Museum
Don Thompson – Weebles Bar & Grill & The Curve Inn
Michael Higgins – Maldaner’s Restaurant
Meet the local Living Legends of Route 66 making history every day Springfield’s new Living Legends program introduces you to our iconic Route 66 local business owners. Pick up your Explorer Passport, meet the legends face-to-face, snap a pic, get an autograph, and create your own Route 66 story.
#VisitSpringfield
WE’RE
THAN ONE DAY
Get the full picture at visitspringfieldillinois.com/ ExplorerPassports ROUTE Magazine 13
The Most Famous
R
oute 66 is known for its quirky dives and hidden treasures, kitschy family diners, and blink-andyou’ll-miss-it roadside attractions, but there may be only one hole-in-the-wall gas station, Allen’s Fillin’ Station in Commerce, Oklahoma. Driving down the original section of Route 66 that cuts through the center of downtown Commerce, just as they arrive in the welcoming magic of Oklahoma, road trippers might be surprised to see a miniature cottage with faded pink trim emerging from the side of the last building on Main Street. The bricks part around what appears to be the front half of a little green cottage, riddled with playful, eye-catching details, that provide a snapshot of a simpler era in the charming, Middle American town’s past. On the corner, old-fashioned gas pumps rise out of the pavement, where families used to pile out of the car to browse the trinket-laden aisles of what was affectionately nicknamed the “Hole in the Wall Conoco Station.” Looking at Commerce’s sleepy Main Street, where time moves at a molassesslow pace and people greet each other with a wave and a smile, it is hard to imagine the brush with danger that Allen’s Fillin’ Station had almost a century ago. On April 6, 1934, the quiet town was swept up in a bout of chaos as notorious outlaws Bonnie and Clyde barreled down Route 66, leaving destruction in their wake. At the edge of town, the duo shot Commerce chief of police Percy Boyd and took him hostage. Boyd was released a few days later, but Constable William “Cal” Campbell became the last victim of Bonnie and Clyde’s Midwestern crime spree. According to local legend, the coldblooded sweethearts stopped for gas at the Conoco Station. The details of this anecdote are as expansive and everchanging as Route 66 itself, and the history of the gas station is similarly marked by constant shifts in identity. Originally opened by F.D. Mitchell as a way to lure tourists off of newly-opened Route 66 in 1930, the gas station became a Phillips 66 in 1938. It closed shortly thereafter. Since then, it’s changed hands countless times. Its shelves have been filled with everything that one could desire on a road trip along Route 66 at one point or another. “I’ve been here 40 years and 90 percent of the time it’s stood empty,” said Treva DuBoise, unofficial local historian and co-owner of Commerce’s Dairy King restaurant. “But the times it has been open, it’s been a 14 ROUTE Magazine
gift shop, souvenir shop, a beauty shop, they sold tombstones for a while. Anything you can imagine.” When Linda Allen and her husband Bobby bought the filling station in 2008, it was a beauty shop selling powders and perfumes to passersby. It had fallen into a bit of disrepair over the years but as Linda and Bobby went to work, the place slowly became reminiscent of the days when out-of-towners poured into Commerce on Route 66. The cheery colors were Linda’s idea. Because there are no pictures of the “Hole in the Wall” back in the day, she used her imagination to transform the historic station into a welcoming stopover in any way she wished. “They started by restoring the old gas pumps out front,” DuBoise said. “Then they repainted the whole thing. Pretty soon there were people stopping in to buy souvenirs all the time.” Linda and Bobby spent countless afternoons in the station, swapping stories with travelers on the Mother Road. They filled the aisles with baubles, toys for their youngest visitors, and keepsakes that reflected the identity of the friendly little town in some way. Locals bought frozen treats from Dairy King and popped over to Allen’s Fillin’ Station to browse the aisles. The forgotten landmark quickly rose in prominence among the quirky boutiques, historic places, and mom and pop joints that make up the tapestry of the Will Rogers Highway. Linda passed away in July 2020, prompting her husband Bobby to sell the little gas station once again. While the station will miss the Allens, who gave it a new name and a purpose, Linda’s dream of restoring the filling station to its former glory has become a reality. Allen’s Fillin’ Station’s nostalgic evergreen exterior is an example of perfectly preserved history on America’s Main Street. What remains of Linda’s ingenious idea is one of the most memorable and charming photo ops on Oklahoma’s Route 66. Allen’s Fillin’ Station represents more than a photo op, though. In restoring the gas station, Linda gave Commerce back a piece of its history, one that reflects the interwovenness of the Mother Road, and a community always willing to share their storied past with passersby. The spirit of old Route 66 flows through Commerce, and nowhere is it more apparent than at the Fillin’ Station, where one town’s deep bond with the Mother Road takes concrete form.
Image by Efren Lopez/Route66Images.
HOL E I N T H E WA L L
In 1889 a shot rang out. A land run started. And El Reno, Oklahoma would become the front door to the American West.
Photo courtesy of Canadian County Museum.
Historic El Reno, Oklahoma, where the glamour of Route 66 meets the Old West drama of the Chisholm Trail. Where the world’s largest fried onion hamburger is celebrated, and where you can ride a rail-based trolley through historic downtown. Nearby Fort Reno is home to the colorful U.S. Cavalry Museum, as well as the graves of Buffalo Soldiers, Indian scouts and World War II prisoners of war. For information, visit www.elrenotourism.com.
ROUTE Magazine 15
The
A
s the first California town off westbound Route 66, Needles has long served as a refreshing stop for tired road-trippers and eager explorers alike. After countless miles of lonely highway, with the harshest desert miles yet to go, Dust Bowl families in the 1930s would settle down for the night in this Colorado River town for a warm meal and a good night’s sleep. By the ‘50s, Needles evolved into a popular resort destination for folks looking to play on the mighty Colorado River or get an easy taste of desert life from the comfort of an air-conditioned room. Now, it’s one of the most important towns on the map for Route 66 enthusiasts, and it offers visitors a tasty slice of history right upon arrival. Officially borax wagon number 277, it was made by Studebaker Wagon Company, one of many manufactured in the 1880s. These ore wagons were filled with borax mined from the Mojave Desert and pulled by twenty-mule teams to the nearest railroad, a journey over rough terrain that spanned 165 miles. This particular wagon, though, would go on a much more exciting journey before making its way to Needles. In 1940, Richard Thorpe directed a Western about Death Valley borax miners called 20 Mule Team. The Needles Welcome Wagon—before it was known as such—played an important role in the film. It was one of a group of wagons featured in the picture, which starred Academy Award-winning actor Wallace Beery. Perhaps the starkly beautiful but lonely trip across the Mohave braved by Route 66 travelers is no less significant than the long, rough journey of the borax wagons of the late 1800s. That importance is not lost on Jan Jernigan, whose business group helps to maintain Needles’ historic wagon. “We’re really established on Route 66. Route 66 from Barstow to Kingman is the longest solid track of Route 66,” said Jernigan. “And [the wagon] is a really important stop for tourists.” After its brief stint on the silver screen, borax wagon number 277 rested in the California town of Boron until it was purchased in 1947 by the owner of the popular Needles El Rancho Motel. By then, the wagon was worth quite a bit of money, since its on-screen appearance had solidified its historic status. After a snappy blue paint job accompanied by signage advertising the motel’s amenities, it was clear that the 16 ROUTE Magazine
wagon had found a home in the motel parking lot, where it would stand for the next decade. But the 1960s brought a decline in tourism to Needles. The El Rancho was struggling to stay open, and the owner donated the historic wagon to the city in 1962. “The mayor wanted it as a landmark, and it is on city property,” explained Jernigan. “[The El Rancho] closed in the early 60s, not long after they took the wagon from there.” Moved to an artfully landscaped spot where Route 66 curves into downtown Needles, the wagon began a new phase of its life. And thus, a Mother Road landmark was born. History buffs and travelers with cameras in tow came to take pictures of the wagon, or simply relish the opportunity to get an upclose look at the authentic piece of antiquity. Besides being a favored photo opportunity, the welcome wagon is well-loved by the citizens of Needles. Keeping a nineteenth-century wooden wagon safe from decay as it weathers the brutal Mojave sun is no easy task, but the residents of the town are up for it. It is a long-standing Needles tradition that wagon maintenance duties are shared among various groups. “The wagon itself needs to be regularly oiled. Different community groups take turns doing it as a community service project. The last people to do it was a church group. The Rotary Club did it the year before that. There’s a lot of eyeballs on that wagon,” said City Manager Rick Daniels. “It’s just an iconic identifier.” Although Needles never fully recovered from the drop in tourism after the construction of I-40, the resurgence of interest in Route 66 brings a steady stream of visitors. The city is working on the restoration of several other landmarks, including the El Garces Fred Harvey railroad hotel—an impressive neoclassical structure built in 1908. The enormous project has been ongoing for seven years and promises to be impressive once finished. The wagon, however, remains Needles’ main attraction. “It’s very well photographed,” said Jernigan. “It’s kind of the main picture for Needles on Route 66.” It’s no mystery why – the wagon holds over a century of the region’s history and hopes. And thanks to the diligent care of the Needles community, this iconic landmark will stand watch over the town for decades to come.
Image by John Smith.
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F I N D YOU R NORT H
18 ROUTE Magazine
Illustration courtesy of the Photographic Study Collection. Dickinson Research Center. NCWHM.
W
e like to think of other peoples,” said Roblin. For history as easy example—“I don’t think [that] and unified, most people realize that cowboys a singular evolved from the vaquero story—it’s more digestible that tradition and are emblematic of way. Eventually, even the story the interaction and intersection of the time we live in now will that characterized the West. be whittled down to a singular Their clothing, the associated perspective, a linear progression vocabulary—chaps, quirt, lasso— where each major event has an and even their name. Cowboy is easy and obvious explanation. English for vaquero.” Like a sculptor, time chisels As trade opened up between away at the solid marble of Mexico and America beginning human memory to create one in the mid-19th Century, far more was exchanged than goods and recognizable shape. But so services. European settlers learned much gets lost in that whittling a great deal from Hispanic and down, and it is the job of a Mesoamerican peoples who had good historian to find those lost had a centuries-long headstart in chunks of marble that make up learning to work with the brutal the negative space; to explore desert landscape. They introduced the stories that got lost in the the Europeans to jalapeños and process but were nonetheless just tortillas. They taught settlers cattle as formative as the stories we Berger Mexicain (Mexican Shepherd) by and sheep-rearing techniques, gave have heard time and time again. Claudio Lenati them weaving lessons, and even The upcoming Find Your North exchanged bits of art and culture. exhibit at the National Cowboy Many representations of Western life, however, don’t depict this & Western Heritage Museum, beginning August 20th, seeks to explore one such set of untold stories—the untold history exchange—they begin in the middle of the narrative, taking the of the American West. culture for granted without actually exploring its development. “Its name reveals the eastern origins of those who The exhibition will run concurrently with ¡Viva México!, labeled it, but the American West is far larger than a single which is also dedicated to telling the story of the role perspective. It crosses gender, cultures, eras, age, geography, of Mexico in the cultural development of the American and even directions. For many, it was the West. For many West, but with a heavier focus on the effects of the others, however, it was the North,” said Kimberly Roblin, Mexican War for Independence and the mestizo people director of the museum’s Dickinson Research Center. at its forefront. The timing is important—2021 marks Often, these untold stories can provide answers to the bicentennial anniversary of the official recognition of questions that we haven’t even thought to ask. How did so Mexican Independence, and these exhibitions are partially many Spanish words—Rio Grande, Sierra Nevada, rodeo, a celebration of the last two centuries of cultural exchange. tornado, mesa, coyote, chocolate, armadillo—make their But the museum isn’t only putting on these exhibitions way into the English language, particularly ones having to because of the relevant timing. The curators believe in the do with life on the open plains? How did the cowboy come importance of telling these stories, full stop. “We don’t into existence? How did European settlers learn to live in do these exhibitions because they’re trendy or politically the harsh desert climate of the American West? Find Your correct. We do them because we should. Any comprehensive North finds the answers to these questions (and many more) discussion of the American West that doesn’t include these through an examination of the Hispanic and Mesoamerican stories is inherently incomplete and inaccurate,” said Roblin. peoples who made their way to the American West, both The museum seeks to educate visitors about Western history before and after the arrival of European settlers, and it tells in ways that build upon—and maybe even challenge—what these stories with old maps, photographs, and rare book they thought they knew. In this case, that means bringing illustrations pulled primarily from the museum’s Dickenson in perspectives many people haven’t had the opportunity to Research Center. The exhibition also explores some facets of consider. history that popular culture may have glossed over or gotten “The West has always been more than a cardinal direction,” wrong; nuances that might have been missed. said Roblin. “The American West was, and remains, an “The American West is difficult to define and more complex intersection of peoples, places, and ideas.” than stereotypes suggest. Historically, the popular narratives Perhaps, in listening to these untold stories and exploring promoted through books, film, and even many museums the ways that they intersect with more familiar stories, more have been Eurocentric and androcentric, often overlooking people can find a little bit of themselves reflected in the and outright omitting the presence and contributions of history of the American West.
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Exhibition support provided by the Henry Luce Foundation, the Kirkpatrick Foundation and National Endowment for the Humanities; Figure 9.20 – Human face effigy with deer antlers. Leflore County, Oklahoma, Spiro Site. 1200 – 1450 AD. Wood. National Museum of the American Indian, Smithsonian Institution (189306).
ROUTE Magazine 19
N
estled inside a south-to-westward bend of Historic Route 66, Pontiac, Illinois, is a hub for museums. The Pontiac-Oakland Automobile Museum, which collects antique car parts from the local brands; the Livingston County War Museum, which holds the experiences of 20 th Century wars; the International Walldog Mural and Sign Art Museum, which celebrates the history of advertising through outdoor murals—all make their home here. But what is especially notable to those seeking the thrills of the Mother Road is that the city also houses a museum dedicated to Illinois’ legacy of the Route and those that contributed to its heyday. This establishment, which might fool you into thinking it’s an old firehouse— because it used to be—is the Illinois Route 66 Hall of Fame and Museum. Inside, memorabilia and mementos from the Hall of Fame members decorate the building. More names than can be counted are cherished within these walls, and although you won’t find anything from any other state, Illinois’ unique treasure trove has the facility stuffed regardless. “The criteria [for becoming a Hall of Fame member],” explained John Wille, the current curator of the Museum, “is basically that they had to have made a contribution, as an individual or as a business, to travelers on Route 66, back in the day, when it was the main road. We’ve included some that have helped preserve Route 66 since that time, but not many.” Well-known Mother Road artist Bob Waldmire has his very own exhibit, which includes his famous VW van on the first floor and his renovated “Road Yacht” school bus behind the building. While you’re out there, you’re sure to notice the giant mural of a Route 66 shield on the back of the building—a great photo op. The second floor of the building features the flip-rack library “Route 66 – A Photo Journal”, and if that’s not a trip back in time enough, “The Life in the 1940’s” exhibit displays four rooms made to resemble exactly how they would have looked during the Route’s golden years, and the nearby “Stage Door Canteen” plays vintage music from the era to boot. This museum is more than a stop; it is an experience. “The way our museum is set up,” said Wille, “you start with the first Hall of Fame members in Chicago, where the Route starts, and then as you go your way around the room, it’s like you’re [heading] south in Illinois. Joliet and Pontiac
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and Chenoa, with each piece having Hall of Fame members from that city or that area. There’s their plaque, some artifacts, and—like a restaurant—there might be a menu, there might be some table servers, and there’ll be pictures.” The history of the Illinois Route 66 Hall of Fame and Museum is also the history of the Illinois Route 66 Association that created it and operates it to this day. When the Mother Road was on its last legs in 1984, interest in keeping it alive was already sprouting in select parts of the country. By 1989, four years after the road was officially decommissioned, a group of fifteen people had gathered in Illinois with the express purpose of keeping what remained of Route 66 well-preserved, but still accessible to the public. In October of that year, the group was officially recognized as the Illinois Route 66 Association, headquartered in the picture-perfect town of Dwight. To accomplish their mission, the Association set up a site to display artifacts and information about the important people of the Route’s heyday. This became the first Hall of Fame and Museum, erected in 1990 in the Dixie Trucker’s Home—which is known today as the Dixie Travel Plaza— in McLean, Illinois. “It was very small, basically filling a hall between the gas station and the restaurant,” Wille elaborated. “And that business went through economic problems, and there were some questions about, ‘Can you keep the Hall of Fame where we are, where the business is going to close?’ At the same time, Betty Estes, my wonderful first tourism director, she had this idea, and she worked with the city to persuade the Route 66 Association to move the Museum to Pontiac into the old fire station, which had been empty for several years. And that was accomplished in June of 2004 when we opened the Museum here.” The Hall of Fame and Museum survived—even thrived— after the move to Pontiac, and remains open to this day from 9 A.M. to 5 P.M. So, if you drive down the Mother Road in Illinois, be sure to make a stop in Pontiac, visit the Museum, and take the time to appreciate everything and everyone who made the Route in the Land of Lincoln what it was, and what it will continue to be remembered for. Because at the end of the day, we’re not that different from the people of the ’40s—we’re all going places and making memories along the way.
Image courtesy of The Pontiac-Oakland Automobile Museum.
PONTIAC’S HALL OF FAME
WHERE T HE MO T HER ROAD BEGINS
Route 66 defined a remarkable era in our nation’s history – and it lives on today in Illinois’ Route 66’s many roadside attractions, museums, and restaurants – it’s the shining ribbon of blacktop we call ‘The Mother Road’.
SPE N D SOME T IME ON T HE I L L I N O I S R O U T E 6 6 S C E N I C B Y WA Y A N D DI S C OV E R ROU T E 6 6 Start planning your trip now at www.illinoisroute66.org. Request a visitor’s guide by emailing info@illinoisroute66.org and make sure to check out our mobile app by searching for ‘Explore Illinois Route 66’ in the App Store and Google Play, to help with all of your Route 66 Illinois planning.
Tel: (217)-414-9331 • www.illinoisroute66.org ROUTE Magazine 21
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THE EASTER ISLAND OF ROUTE 66 By Phoebe Billups Photographs by Efren Lopez/Route66Images
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ruising west on Route 66, a long, slow curve–actually the longest continuous curve on all of Route 66–arcs west soon after Hackberry to its junction with Antares Road, just before tracking southwest through tiny Hualapai into mountain-ringed Kingman, Arizona. The north side of that curve at Antares Road is a propitious spot for a business, a place a motorist couldn’t help but notice. That valuable site has been utilized for decades to attract travelers. But today, along that curve, what grabs your attention is a bright green monolith, firmly planted in the ground, looking for all the world like it could have been imported from Easter Island, or maybe from a 1940s California tiki bar. It rises out of the desert–a conical green object, maybe half as tall as the turquoise-painted vintage A-frame building beside it. Behind the two landmarks, an array of motel units and trailers fan out in a semi-circle. Two round eyes and a triangular nose peep out of the monolith, peering benignly out over a pretty western stretch of America’s Mother Road. The 14-foot-tall tiki-head Easter-Island statue, with a dash of mid-century kitsch, casts a long shadow in the dry desert outside Kingman. His name is Giganticus Headicus and he comes in peace. Today, Giganticus is one of the most iconic statues on this picturesque stretch of the Mother Road. However, his very existence is the result of a winding journey, a touch of serendipity, and the happenstance characteristic of life along Route 66. The majestic mountains and high desert that surround the statue’s home at the refurbished Kozy Corner trailer park near Kingman, have drawn the eye of many artists, photographers, writers, and filmmakers over the years. The sweeping landscape has a way of striking inspiration into the hearts of those who travel the historic highway. The story of Giganticus begins with one such traveler–a man named Gregg Arnold. On a warm still night in 2003, he rode through the vast desert in the passenger seat of a friend’s eighteen-wheeler. Arnold saw a dazzling sky, filled with more stars than he had ever seen in his native New Jersey, and something clicked. His mind exploded with possibilities.
Coming to Kingman Gregg Arnold was born in New Jersey in 1968, just a few hours from New York City. Growing up, Arnold’s family did not have much money. A lonely child, he took refuge in the world of art. His earliest projects were pictures of superheroes and the characters on the covers of cereal boxes. “For Sugar Smacks, there’d be the frog,” said Arnold. “I’d draw the frog and enter art contests. They’d give you coupons or 25 dollars. I remember one time I won 25 bucks, and I was like, ‘Wow.’ I came from absolutely nothing, so 25 dollars to a little kid, it might as well have been a million bucks.” When he got a little older, New York City was an irresistible draw, and he rode the train into Manhattan with his friends 24 ROUTE Magazine
on the weekends. They explored the punk rock scene, hung out at the East Village music club CBGB, and discovered cutting-edge art. Reading The Andy Warhol Diaries in 1989 changed Arnold’s life forever as he learned more about Warhol, synonymous with the New York City Pop Art movement. While working as a Talent Coordinator in the city, Arnold began to make pop art of his own inspired by the New York City influencer, using icons like Marilyn Monroe and James Dean in his work. It was a time of adventure and self-discovery. But as he entered his thirties, he found himself yearning for a change of pace, a chance to reinvent himself. Before he left New York on a spontaneous and fateful crosscountry trip in 2002, Arnold had not seen much of America beyond New Jersey and New York, absorbed in the hustle and bustle of his big-city lifestyle. A truck-driver friend invited
Gregg Arnold puts a spell on visitors.
him to ride along from the East Coast to California. They eventually found themselves on Route 66. Upon reaching the Southwest, Arnold was astonished by the deserts with their purple plateaus at sunset. At the moment when he saw the night sky unfurling above the high desert city of Kingman, he knew that he had stumbled onto something truly special. “That was when I was like, ‘Wow, Route 66 is here? These types of night skies are here?’” Weary from driving, his friend was not especially impressed by the little town. However, Arnold knew immediately that this was a place where he could have a new kind of life. In Kingman, he saw a glimpse of a different America, one where time moved at a molasses-slow pace and people felt free to pursue their passions. As soon as he returned to the East
Coast, he sold his house, quit his job, and prepared for his new home in Kingman, Arizona. “I thought, ‘What’s everybody going to think that I’m moving to this little town in Arizona?’ Then I thought, ‘I don’t care what they think.’ There were people trying to talk me out of it, [saying], ‘You’re going to be giving up ethnic foods and all the nightlife and this and that.’ But I wasn’t giving that up, I was trading it for a different life experience.”
Getting Kozy Arnold’s first big accomplishment after he arrived back in Kingman in 2003, at the age of 34, was the purchase of the Kozy Corner trailer park about twenty miles outside of the ROUTE Magazine 25
city, situated on a long curve of Route 66 that snaked east toward Hackberry. The shabby complex, alternately motel, trailer park, land sales office, gas station and restaurant, needed considerable work, but the mid-century A-frame building seemed to rise out of the desert sand, and it caught his artistic eye. Arnold, whose pop art had made him a fan of the mid-century aesthetic, fell in love with the old place and bought it on a whim, picturing an art studio on the premises. Gregg Arnold dove full throttle into his new life in Kingman. The beautiful, arid environment was ideal for creating art outdoors, and Arnold’s work popped off the canvas. From painting, he transitioned to using new mediums, like cement, chicken wire, and found objects to create giant sculptures. As he got to know his neighbors in Kingman, he realized how much he enjoyed being part of a close-knit community. Then, at an ice cream social in 2008, he met Alie Reynolds—now Reynolds-Arnold. “It was an event I was putting on,” Alie said. “He waited until all the people left... I walked into my office and he was standing on my side of the desk because that’s the way my office was situated. He leaned over the desk and said, ‘Can I tell you something?’ I said, ‘What?’ He said, ‘You have the most beautiful eyes I’ve ever seen.’ That was it.” A real estate agent for most of her life, Alie is also a painter. Her soft, swirling watercolors are as different from her husband’s work as can be, but the two have been inseparable since they met. In 2016, the couple was married in Kingman, and since then have created art, working together but on separate projects, in their Antares Art Studio. As his artistic aspirations continued to grow and he became more involved with Kingman community events, It’s a quirky stop. Arnold also had his hands full fixing up the Kozy Corner and its quirky, colorful signs. Owner-operator at Grand Canyon Caverns John McEnulty leased the A-frame building from Gregg, leaving the artist more time to work on creative pursuits and lessen his workload at the complex. McEnulty transformed the quirky old A-frame into the Antares Point Route 66 Visitor Center, featuring traveler information, drinks and food, gifts and souvenirs, and Arnold’s and Alie’s artwork, harkening the place back to its days as a travel stop. “It opened in 1965,” said Kingman-based Route 66 author Jim Hinckley. “It was a gas station restaurant complex, and it was a land sales office for Lake Mead Rancheros. It was just garishly painted to get attention, greens and a kind of cantaloupe orange color. It survived as a restaurant and gas station until shortly after the bypass with I-40, about 1978. 26 ROUTE Magazine
After that, it kind of fell on hard times. Some people tried to use it as a house. It went through a lot of different things.” Hinckley, who often enjoyed a bowl of chili at the Kozy Corner during his ranching days in the 1970s, was happy to see it restored to its original glory. It now boasts not one but three silver airstream trailers that tourists looking to revel in the glory days of Route 66 can rent out. “We fixed it up with kitchens and stuff so there’s three units that can be rented out,” Alie said. “And the old A-frame building [is] a store. It’s a great location because if you take the real Route 66 to Kingman instead of going on I-40, it’s the only thing for miles.” The old motel stands on the side of historic Route 66, as ready to greet visitors traveling west now as it was in 1965. For tourists, it signals just what kind of place they are entering. Traversing the silver capsule-style trailers and eye-catching A-frame building feels a little like spending an afternoon in a bygone era, one far removed from the fast-paced modern world. But the kitschy, midcentury attraction would not be complete without its now-mostfamous denizen, a simple green sculpture that has captured the imaginations of travelers from every corner of the world.
Giganticus Headicus But where did Headicus come from? Back in 2004, a couple years after Arnold packed up his life and left the East Coast, and not long after he bought the Kozy Corner, he was struck by a vision. He imagined a sort of tiki head in the sand, and he knew he had to create it. “It was one of those things where you bolt awake at 2:30 in the morning,” he said. “I couldn’t rest until I had this out of my system. It was just in my head.” The key to bringing the artist’s vision to life lay at the Kozy Corner trailer park and motel. He spotted an old metal tank on the property and knew it was going to be his creation’s massive cranium. He chained the piece of metal to a pickup truck and dragged it up a hill to the place where Giganticus now stands watch, just in front of the main building. Then he went to Home Depot and bought the biggest two-by-fours he could find–fourteen feet long–which determined his statue’s height. Back at the Kozy Corner, he leaned the two-by-fours against the tank, bolted them to the ground, and covered them with metal and chicken wire. From those materials, a face gradually emerged with eyebrows, big round eyes, and nostrils, which he then covered with cement. The whole process took three and a half weeks, mostly due to the wild desert environment. “The wind was fighting me like you wouldn’t believe,” said Arnold. “It was just me on the ladder. I was coating [him] with all the cement. I would mix some cement at the bottom
Arnold checking his mail. The road is impossibly long and beautiful.
of a five-gallon bucket and I’d have gloves on. I’d go up the ladder with the bucket in one hand and start scooping the cement onto Giganticus. Then I’d go down the ladder, mix up some more cement, go back up the ladder. It was arduous, but so rewarding.” People driving by could not help but gawk at the massive work-in-progress. Locals and tourists alike pulled over to take a gander and quiz the artist. “I remember this old guy pulling up when I was first shaping it out. He said, ‘What are you making, a tea kettle?’” At the end of those whirlwind three and a half weeks, Arnold took a step back and smiled, satisfied that he had made exactly what he had seen in his head. Once they saw the finished product, people in town quickly embraced the quirky new addition to Route 66. Today, Giganticus Headicus is a beloved member of the Kingman community. “Most of the year it’s bright green,” said Nikki Seeger, Director of Operations at the Historic Route 66 Association of Arizona. “For Breast Cancer Awareness Month [in October] they paint it pink and then it goes back to green. It reminds people of an Easter Island head. A lot of people ask where it is and seek it out when they’re at the visitor center [in Kingman].” Visitors to the attraction are often eager to meet the artist behind it, and Arnold is always happy to take pictures and chat. Through Giganticus, he has met travelers from Germany, Italy, Scotland, and countless other distant lands, as well as some Hollywood actors. Giganticus’ celebrity visitors include actors Orlando Bloom and James Woods. It seems no one is immune to the tiki’s quaint charm.
Oasis in the Desert For over a century and a half, artistic types have been inspired by the rugged and beautiful terrain that defines
Arizona. Artist John Mix Stanley, part of the 1846 Kearny Expedition to the West, was likely the first non-native to draw and paint images in the territory, followed by Thomas Moran in the 1870s. Prolific Western writers like novelist Louis L’Amour captured the majesty of the Arizona desert in action-packed books. Character actor Andy Devine, whose unique raspy voice helped bring more than 200 Western films to life, introduced viewers to his hometown of Kingman on the popular program This Is Your Life in 1955, solidifying the town’s link to the Western lore and legend in the public imagination. Kingman became a regional hub after legendary frontiersman Lieutenant Edward Beale planted his flag in the hills outside of what is now Kingman. Today, the town is synonymous with the Mother Road. Kingman boasts the longest continuous ribbon of Route 66, running right through the city and stretching about 158 miles. Those who crossed the wide-open desert and mountain passes found a cowboy’s paradise, practically untouched by the sands of time. Modern travelers will find this past still lives in Kingman, thanks in part to the effort of visionaries, preservationists, and artistic types like Gregg Arnold. At the Antares Art Studio, he collects gleaming heaps of scrap metal that date back to the heyday of Route 66, when it rounded this long, gentle curve. In his hands, the scrap becomes eagles, Kokopelli, and other symbols of the American West that visitors can take home. Giganticus Headicus, who himself came from a piece of the rundown motel, is another piece of the Mother Road reborn. The beloved sculpture is proof of the promise that Arnold saw unfolding on the horizon as he drove into the Arizona night back in 2002. If he could, Giganticus Headicus would likely say that this is a place where people and places can remake themselves. ROUTE Magazine 27
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he year was 1972, when hippies, hitchhikers, and long-haired troubadours chased sunsets and inspiration along Arizona’s wide-open stretch of Route 66. The romantic notion of heading west drew dreamers with little more than a tank of gas and a hankering for the inspiration that only America’s Main Street could provide. One of these adventure-seekers was Jackson Browne, a littleknown songwriter puzzling over the lyrics to a song for a newly formed band called the Eagles. According to legend, Browne was sailing over tracts of silent desert, running through verses in his head, when his car broke down in the sleepy town of Winslow, Arizona. It was a chance encounter that would change Winslow and Browne’s life forever. Standing on the corner of Kinsley and East 2nd Street, waiting on a tow truck, Browne was struck by the hazy beauty of the little town where desert sunsets melted into the warm, sparkling neon lights of downtown. Route 66 has a way of bringing people and places together in serendipitous ways, and as Browne watched the cars streaming off the highway, the words to the second verse he had been stuck on popped into his head. “I’m standin’ on the corner in Winslow, Arizona, what a fine sight to see.” The inspiration behind the second part of the verse arrived the next day in the form of a pretty girl driving a beat-up truck. Browne, stranded for a few days, decided to pop over to east Flagstaff. He was standing outside Der Wienerschnitzel when he saw her coming down the street. They did not speak, but her presence on the dusty road solidified the lyrics to what would become the Eagles’ first hit song and a classic traveler anthem, “Take It Easy.” The story of Browne’s first fateful brush with Winslow is the stuff of Route 66 legend, shifting like the desert sands with each retelling. However, Tommy Butler, Vice President of the Standin’ on the Corner Foundation, who grew up in his grandparents’ motel and parents’ Montgomery Ward catalog agency along Route 66 in the seventies, saw it as more than a folk tale. For him, it was a way of saving his community from the destruction caused by the Interstate bypassing small towns like Winslow along the Mother Road. Small-town America is nothing if not scrappy, and in the wake of this dereliction, people discovered more and more creative ways to thrive. In 1999, the La Posada Foundation had just saved Winslow’s Fred Harvey 28 ROUTE Magazine
La Posada Hotel— Grand Canyon architect Mary Colter’s masterpiece —from being torn down by the Santa Fe Railroad Company. The Foundation was eager for new projects to help launch Winslow into the new millennium. That is when the idea to memorialize the storied street corner was born. The Standin’ on the Corner Foundation was established and set about creating quirky, eyecatching attractions to lure travelers on the Mother Road. Browne’s larger-than-life presence was given physical shape in the form of “Easy,” a bronze troubadour with guitar in hand, who bore a striking resemblance to the musician and songwriter. “[It’s] an early rendition of the troubadour kind of seventies man in the Southwest, rolling on Route 66,” Butler explained. The spirit of those musicians, speeding down southwestern Route 66 with the wind in their hair, drumming out a beat on the steering wheel, hangs in the air. After Glenn Frey, who co-wrote “Take It Easy,” passed away in 2016, Winslow’s wistful music man was joined by a statue of Frey. “There’s hundreds of thousands [who] have visited that corner from all corners of the globe,” Butler said. “It’s amazing how many people have visited, but after the passing of Glenn Frey there was a lot of international exposure and stories. He was such an important songwriter and meaningful musician to so many people across the globe, that when he passed away, it touched a lot of people. Traffic increased twofold.” Every year, thousands of people flock to the corner where Browne brainstormed on that fortuitous night in 1972 for the Standin’ on the Corner Music Festival. The first one was held in 1999, right there on the corner, and drew a couple hundred people, but it was to increase. “It’s grown so much now that it’s impossible to hold it downtown, emergency services were impossible,” Butler said. “Through the years, we’ve built a professional pavilion on the west end of town called the Eagle Pavilion. Now it draws over ten thousand people for the weekend. It’s a musical festival Friday and Saturday and there’s the Eagles tribute band on Saturday night.” In 2013, Browne finally returned to Winslow on a train tour that brought the legendary musician back to the place where he penned his first hit more than forty years ago. As he belted out “Take It Easy” near the bronze statue of his younger self on a life-changing journey across the Southwest, a Route 66 legend came full circle.
Image by Efren Lopez/Route66Images.
Standin’ on the Corner in Winslow, AZ
Williams, Arizona has something for everyone. Plan a visit and see why visitors have fallen in love with Williams. ROUTE 66
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INDESTRUC By Heide Brandes Photographs by Marshall Hawkins
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CTIBLE
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he year was 1898. If you went looking for Oklahoma farmer and businessman William “Big Bill” Odor, you’d find him hard at work, slicing the wood of local burr oaks into planks and soaking them in the Deep Fork River for pliability. He bent the wood to his will, crafting curved plank after curved plank to build his perfectly round barn, the likes of which had never been seen before. As he worked, he tuned out the chorus of critics who insisted that the architectural marvel would never stand. Over a century later, the barn still towers over the tiny town of Arcadia as a living rebuttal to those skeptics. With its high domed roof, curved walls, and bright red paint job, the Round Barn of Arcadia has commanded the attention of Route 66 passerby for decades and holds its own next to Arcadia’s famous neon soda bottle and Pop’s diner just up the road. That the Round Barn of Arcadia is still standing today has more to do with the diligent care of local townsfolk than Odor’s architectural ingenuity. In fact, the barn, which was donated to the Arcadia Historical and Preservation Society in 1988, nearly didn’t survive. Decades of weather and use caused the structure to deteriorate and eventually cave in, but a stalwart group of volunteers–many of whom were retired and elderly–brought the barn back to its former glory in the 1990s. When Odor built his big round barn, he couldn’t have known that he was constructing an integral piece of Oklahoma history. Today, the structure stands tall as a historic icon in the picturesque plains of central Oklahoma, and more importantly, as a testament to the way that Arcadia came together to protect its history and soul.
The Building of a Barn The barn is a geometric wonder, but its builder was not an architect by trade. A farmer, rancher, banker, merchant, and founding father of the town of Arcadia, “Big Bill” Odor was born in Illinois, but moved to Kansas as a child. Like many rural boys in the 1800s, he grew up working on a farm, and after marrying Myra Eva Keely in 1891, he packed up their meager belongings and moved to what was known as the Deep Fork Township in Oklahoma. The trip wasn’t an easy one. Myra drove the mule team while Big Bill handled the horses, and the 180-mile journey took an exhausting week to complete. The move was a good idea, however. After renting 160 acres of land about two miles north of where the Round Barn now sits, the Odors prospered. They worked the land and raised cattle and had three children, Hazel, Ralph, and Evelyn. Eventually, Odor was able to purchase his own plot of land for his very own farm. Within two years, he started building a barn like no one in Indian Territory had ever seen. Barn raising and building were not uncommon, but Odor’s design was. 32 ROUTE Magazine
In 1981, Odor’s son Ralph explained in an interview that Oklahoma’s tendency toward tornados was the reason for the odd shape of the barn. “At that time, there [were] a lot of tornados. My father figured if they had something round, it would hit it and go around it instead of through it,” said Ralph. To this day, Big Bill’s design has never been tested by a real tornado, but at the time, the science seemed probable enough to take the chance. In 1898, Big Bill started construction. He harvested the burr oaks along the river using a steam-powered circular saw, and the rafters for the roof were soaked in the river, bent into a curved shape, and allowed to dry. “The way he built the barn was amazing. Absolutely amazing,” said Linda Simonton, who acts as board president for the Arcadia Historical and Preservation Society. “Old timber was put in the river until it became pliable. They also built the rafters, and wow, it was quite a thing. I mean, that thing was 43 feet high. They built a big platform, the middle and the floor using mules and pulleys to get those things up there.” The rafters were held in place by their unique shape and some bracing. Soon after placing the rafters, Odor and his workers placed the floor in the massive round loft. “His workers all thought that the loft would be a great place to hold dances,” said Simonton. Odor only agreed, if they promised that “only good music” would be played. When the barn was completed, that’s exactly what happened. “We danced up there, mostly square dancing. You name it, we did it,” said Arcadia resident Grady Jones in an interview conducted by the Arcadia Historical Society. “All the time, the stock was right down there below us, mooing and neighing.” Mrs. Ethiel Tuton also shared her memories of the barn dances; she attended the square dances every Saturday and on holidays. “They had a piano, fiddles, and guitar. Square dancing was great fun, better recreations than anything,” Tuton said. “Boy, they danced all night then. The men wore jeans
Dusty Ward has been volunteering at the Barn for ten years.
because it was a farming area, but the girls were in those full tiered skirts.” The Deep Fork Territory remained a rural farming community until the Missouri-Kansas-Texas railroad was built through Odor’s land in 1902. Oklahoma wasn’t even a state yet, but Odor and the railroad officials met to decide where to put a town to support the railroad. Local people applied for a post office, and thus the town of Arcadia was born. The railroad caused Arcadia to grow fast. Within a couple decades, Arcadia boasted a bustling downtown. Unfortunately, a fire in 1924 burned down most of the businesses on the east side of Main Street, but Arcadia persisted nonetheless. Shortly after the fire, Congress commissioned the building of U.S. Highway 66–The Mother Road–in 1926, and the road ran straight through Arcadia, bringing travelers from around the world, right past the giant round barn. “As a child, I actually remember driving Route 66 through Oklahoma,” said Simonton. “We would take family vacations
with my mom and dad and me and my grandparents. We’d all get in the car and go somewhere every summer. I remember driving by the Round Barn as a kid.” Although she never got out to look at the barn on those road trips, she remembered what it looked like back then: “It was peeling paint. But there were still remnants of the advertising signs that had been painted on it.” For the next 50 years, Arcadia continued to exist as a small but prosperous farming and railroad town until the fall of 1974. That November, a storm dumped so much water on the humble community that the railroad tracks that brought prosperity to Arcadia were damaged. The trains stopped running and never returned to Arcadia. However, the small town survived, and generations of families still call Arcadia home today.
Bit By Bit, Then All At Once The Round Barn of Arcadia was placed on the National Register of Historic Places in 1977, but at that point, it was ROUTE Magazine 33
already rapidly decaying, and had long been the target of vandals and arsonists. Once a shining example of frontier craftsmanship, the planks were peeling off and the roof had begun to sag. The design of the barn was still of fascination to the American public, and detailed drawings of the barn were made for the Historic American Buildings Survey in 1983. Despite the continued interest, however, funding was not available for maintenance. The Round Barn continued to disintegrate bit by bit until it finally bowed to the weight of weather and history at 12:09 p.m. on June 29, 1988. According to an article published in The Daily Oklahoman, the roof of the old barn “just kind of sighed and fell in, like a souffle’,” said Arcadia store manager Jody Davis. Ernest Breger, who operated the service station next to the barn, told the paper that he “jumped out of my chair and into the road. I saw the last part of it go… shwoop… down.” The roof had finally collapsed on the dilapidated Route 66 icon. Before the collapse, the Arcadia Historical Society had been trying for years to get the title to the barn in order to maintain it. “The previous owners [of the barn] had children. And then those children had children,” said Simonton. “So this thing got split up into a dozen heirs… All the documents would get drawn up and one of the heirs would die.” It was a years-long process. “Not long after the Arcadia Historic Society finally got all the signatures necessary to get the barn, the roof collapsed. It made a huge mess,” said Simonton. “But then came Luke Robison.”
The impossibly woven roof of the Barn was recreated in 2010. 34 ROUTE Magazine
The Savior of the Barn Luther “Luke” Robison was born in 1914 and was raised on a cotton farm in central Oklahoma. He taught himself woodworking and carpentry at the age of 12 and worked for the Works Progress Administration in the 1930s. After putting together gliders for the U.S. Air Force in World War II, he became a carpenter and homebuilder. He and his wife Anna lived in the rural area near Arcadia and often drove past the Round Barn when they were dating. They didn’t attend the dances because their parents were very strict, but even before the roof collapsed, he dreamed of reviving the old building. “Luke Robison went house-to-house in Arcadia to find out how much interest there was in saving the old barn,” said Simonton. “He thought it was a shame to see it go to ruin.” After the roof caved in, Robison went into full gear. He and a group of retired men formed what they called “The Over-the-Hill Gang” to start raising money to rebuild the old structure. Robison was 78 when the reconstruction began. He and his Over-the-Hill Gang knew the town and the historical society couldn’t afford the hundreds of thousands of dollars that construction companies demanded in their estimates, so they took on the job of restoration themselves. “I thought I was just fixing up an old barn,” Robinson told the Arcadia Historical Society in an interview. “We had some contractors bid on restoring the barn. Some of them didn’t think it could be done. Some of them suggested [that] we just tear it down and start over. Of course, we didn’t want to do that because it would be a new round barn and not an old round barn.” However, the lack of professional restoration experience didn’t faze the old-timers, who got to work right away. They looked for clues in the barn’s remaining structure, and they used many of the same techniques that Odor originally used to build it. Robison and his crew replicated Odor’s process as closely as they could, even soaking the lumber to shape the wood. When it came to the dangerous job of tying the rafters on the apex point 43 feet in the air, Robison was the one to do the job. “Maybe it was just stupidity,” he is quoted as saying. “What Luke didn’t tell anybody was that he was fighting cancer the whole time. And it became his life goal, and it’s quite a legacy,” said Simonton. Nearly four years after the roof collapsed, the
Gilbert Parks is a retired psychiatrist who was born in Arcadia. Now in his late 60s, he is still amazed by the Barn.
restored barn was opened to the public, and in 1993, the National Trust for Historic Preservation bestowed a national honor award to Luke Robison and the Arcadia Historical and Preservation Society for outstanding craftsmanship and preservation. Sadly, Robison lost his battle with cancer in October 1997, just five years after the Round Barn was reopened. “Luke Robison is a legend here,” said Simonton. “If it wasn’t for him and the old timers, the barn would have been lost forever.” Robinson’s sons have carried on his legacy of involvement with the barn. “At present, two of his sons serve on our board of directors. And the older one has been president and vice president,” said Simonton. But she emphasizes that it was more than just a one-man effort. “Essentially the whole town came together. Every able bodied man with any kind of skill at all pitched in and volunteered on that crew.” Over the past eleven years, Simonton has woven herself deep into the barn’s history as well. She first got involved in 2009, just after her late husband’s passing. “Well, several of my neighbors were involved with the historic society in Arcadia that essentially takes care of the barn,” said Simonton. “So, I went to a neighborhood get together, and they said ‘you should come out and volunteer.’ That sounded really appealing because I had recently been widowed.” Suddenly, Simonton found herself spending “as many as three days a week up there on four hour shifts.” The barn was just what she needed–and it needed her, too.
The Future Looks Red Thousands of visitors come to the Round Barn every year for a glimpse of history. Actually, of all of the amazing photo
opportunities along Route 66, the barn is said to be the most photographed. It is a beloved destination, even after all these years. The museum is open daily for tours, and Sam Gillaspy is one of the volunteers who walk tourists through the history of Arcadia and the barn. He’s “somewhere in his 90s,” said Simonton, adding that most of the volunteers who keep up the barn are getting older. Simonton also added a musical element to The Round Barn, which boosted interest in the historic landmark. “I found a local musician who was soon to be retired who plays local bluegrass, and we started holding open jams once a month. And once he retired, he started playing on Tuesdays and Saturdays up in the loft. He [also] started doing concerts under the big tree, and it’s a fun thing for people to do outdoors.” Most years, vintage car clubs and antique tractor clubs from across Oklahoma hold rallies at the Round Barn during the warm-weather months and are often invited to “circle the barn” with their vehicles. Since 2010, “Round Barn Rendezvous” has taken place on the second Sunday of every month. The Rendezvous is an open jam, with any acoustic musicians welcome to come and play, regardless of skill level. Kids are welcome, and music teachers and students are often encouraged to take part. Through good times and bad, the barn volunteers continue to find innovative ways to keep the crowds coming. “You just do what you have to do,” Simonton said. “It’s just such a special place. It’s my happy place.” Thanks to the work that she and other volunteers have put in, the Round Barn of Arcadia has become a “happy place” for many. With any luck—and, of course, lots of hard work—business will keep booming, and the big red barn will watch over the special small town of Arcadia for decades to come. ROUTE Magazine 35
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estled inside of the ridiculously quaint village of Gardner, Illinois, stands a bright-red, one-story building. It’s a simple, unassuming structure, but still, a shop that is impossible to miss and often photographed, with its cute little windmill and tractor. It is a destination that is unexpected and yet undeniably familiar with its bright red-and-white exterior and its vintage signs and advertisements. Gliding into Gardner, there it is; the Coca-Cola House, better known as The Shop on Route 66. Illinois Route 66 is packed with fascinating history and characters, but the northern portion with all of its picturesque little villages and hamlets may be the most magical. It is the land of a thousand tales. And The Shop on Route 66 has a story to tell. Its origins and current owners have been in the area for generations; they are from the very soil of Gardner. In the 1800s, a lumberyard was built on the land, and in the midforties, after managing the site since 1937, Tom Perkins’ grandfather bought the property and another lumberyard in nearby Braidwood. In 1971, the family had an auction and sold most of the land that the lumberyard was on–all except one corner where the house was built. That they saved for themselves. “It was a family project,” Perkins says, “We built the shop, it was my grandfather, my uncle, myself, my dad helped, and a couple of cousins. It was kind of spring to summer when we put it up. It gave my grandfather a place to go to after he sold the lumberyard.” Years later, it operated as the headquarters for a small construction business that Perkins ran with his uncle. This workshop, painted red with white trim, faded over the years until 2005, when Perkins bought it from his uncle.
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He was looking for a workshop in which to do woodworking and stained glass and the structure seemed ideal. Born and raised in Gardner, Perkins grew up around Route 66, and watched as his town thrived and then died. “At one time we had three grocery stores, now we have no grocery stores. We had two lumberyards. There are no lumberyards now,” Perkins remarked. “Things change over time.” Yes, things do change, and the building that was supposed to be a workshop, turned into more of a man cave and a place to greet tourists. Upon taking ownership, Perkins discovered that people who were traveling Route 66 would get a little turned around right at his corner. When they stopped, he would come out to help them along their way and even recommend places to go. As time went on, more and more people would do this, until finally, he decided to repaint the faded red back to its original glory. The initial thought was to put his collection of Caterpillar brand items–he worked for Caterpillar for 32 years and has amassed quite a collection–up on the shelves. However, he quickly decided that that wouldn’t be nearly as interesting as a Coca-Cola themed shop. He has also been collecting Coke memorabilia for years too. And so, the funky red-with-whitetrim, impossible-to- miss attraction was born. “It’s just something that somebody can get off the road to take pictures of and stretch a little bit. You got some questions? We’re more than happy to talk to you.” Classic Americana has come back into vogue in recent years, with record numbers of travelers hitting the highway. Next time that you fancy a trip, make sure to soak up Illinois 66 and pay a visit to Gardner, and soak in Perkins’ tribute to Coca-Cola.
Image by David J. Schwartz – Pics On Route 66.
THE COCA-COLA HOUSE
DISCOVER CLINTON, OKLAHOMA
WHERE ROUTE 66 TRULY COMES ALIVE!
• HIS TORI C HOTE L S• D IV E RS E D INING• •M OHAW K LOD G E IND IAN S TORE• •THE WATE R ZOO•
www.clintonokla.org ROUTE Magazine 37
The U.S. CAMEL CORPS and ROUTE 66 inpointing the very start of Route 66 history is tough–some may place it with the construction of federally funded roadways, or with the popularization of the automobile in America. But in actuality, and unbeknownst to many, the history of Route 66 begins much earlier. It begins with a treacherous landscape, dreams of westward mobility, and a very unlikely beast: the camel. That camels were part of the history of Route 66, or even part of American history at all, is a fact that has been, for the most part, lost to the annals of history. The U.S. Camel Corps, as the program was officially known, wasn’t around long, and the short-lived camel experiment didn’t accomplish much–with one exception. The camels were absolutely essential to the expedition that went out to survey the 35th parallel in preparation for the construction of a Westward road along that path–the same path that would one day become Route 66. The year was 1839, and the U.S. had just acquired a large swath of land, which included modern-day California, Arizona, and New Mexico, as well as parts of several other states. The only problem? These areas had yet to be explored– much less mapped–and mapping and roadbuilding became an urgent task after the discovery of Californian gold in 1848. People were clamoring to get out West, but the land was treacherous and full of unknowns. They desperately needed a wagon road. U.S. Secretary of War, Jefferson Davis, was tasked with finding a path for this road, and after careful consideration, chose the 35th parallel for its relative consistency weather-wise. He put together an expedition to survey the area, but one thing was missing: pack animals that could make it through the dry desert terrain. “There were just miles and miles of land without water,” said Marshall Trimble, Arizona State Historian. “It was hostile desert, Northern Arizona. It was a really tough trip, and they were looking for a beast of burden that would be able to do that. Mules were what they usually used, and oxen were too slow; they needed an [animal] that could do a whole lot more. Jefferson Davis had gotten some inside information from a federal soldier that had some knowledge of camels in the Middle East, and he had the idea of camels as a beast of burden to get across this waterless land. And so, the great camel experiment was born.” The government set aside some cash, and a boat headed to the Middle East to make the purchase. They quickly
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encountered a problem—the camels weren’t bilingual, and they refused to learn English, so to ease the transition, they also brought over several camel drivers who spoke the camels’ native language. When the camels made it to America, the expedition was finally ready to begin. Naval officer Edward “Ned” Beale was put in charge of the expedition and given a team of over two dozen camels to manage. He was initially unhappy about this–in fact, the Americans hated the camels at first, and they had plenty of reason to. “They say that they had terrible breath,” said Trimble. “And they were kind of recalcitrant, extremely stubborn, and they were known to be temperamental, extremely temperamental.” The camels would also spit slimy, foul-smelling cud when upset. But everyone’s attitude changed when they realized what an asset the camels truly were on the difficult desert trip, particularly with the help of the skilled camel drivers, who would sing to the camels to get the animals to do their bidding. “These camels were packing 800 pounds–twice what a mule could carry,” said Trimble. “And Beale just loved these camels; he thought they were just wonderful. They could endure arid lands, and during a stretch of 36 hours without water, the horses and mules suffered, but the camels didn’t even falter.” The camels proved themselves especially important when they came to one of the toughest parts of the journey–the Colorado River. It was deep and wide, and everyone assumed that the camels wouldn’t be able to swim. It was uncertain whether even the mules could make it. As it turned out, the camels could swim, quite well–no camels were lost in the crossing, whereas 10 mules and two horses got swept away in the current. Thanks to the sturdy hump-backed beasts, the surveyors were able to get all of their supplies safely across the river. The mission was ultimately a success. The 35th parallel was surveyed, and a wagon road was constructed soon after. The Camel Corps was shut down only a couple decades later, but nevertheless, Trimble believes that the Beale expedition ultimately would not have been possible without them–the conditions were just too harsh, the journey too long. So next time you’re driving the Western stretch of Route 66, remember to give thanks to the tall, sturdy beasts who traveled across the world to play a role in the development of what would become America’s most famous highway.
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Illustration courtesy of the Army Historical Foundation.
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40 ROUTE Magazine
A CONVERSATION WITH
Kenny Loggins By Brennen Matthews
Photographs courtesy of Leslie Hassler
ROUTE Magazine 41
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usic plays a large role in many of our lives. It helps to enhance emotion, and for many people, it cements memories. Film composers like Hans Zimmer, James Horner, and Alan Silvestri have brought us to tears, to laughter, and generally made our lives a little better, with their scoring of many of our favorite films. But few singer/songwriters have captured our hearts and represented a generation like Kenneth Clark Loggins. He has been nicknamed the “King of Movie Soundtracks”, nominated for numerous awards, and won two Grammys and an Emmy for his amazing work. He has been the sound behind major 1980s films like Caddyshack, Footloose, Top Gun, and Over the Top, and has sold over 25 million records over his career. Recently he was honored with a lifetime achievement award by the Hollywood Music in Media. Loggins’ story is an amazing one, but maybe mostly so because little has been handed to him; he has used his naturally developed talent and determination to create a place for himself in the enviable annals of music history. Still hard at work, Loggins’ new project and single “The Great Adventure,” in support of the San Diego Zoo Kids Channel, is once again, making listeners dance and bob their heads. And with a story as colorful as his, fans will soon be rewarded with Loggins’ autobiography. The man behind the songs: Kenny Loggins.
You were born in Washington State, but your family moved to Detroit before finally settling in California. So, you moved around a little bit. Did you guys do many road trips? [I went on a drive] with my dad when I was seven. That was the first real time that my dad and I connected because he was a traveling salesman. He was gone a lot. Ironically, I equate my life in the rock and roll years, especially the touring years, to him. You know, my kids had the same experience of me that I had of him. [I] was gone a lot. But he finally decided to move the family to California, and I remember, and it’s funny the things that our memories hold on to for no logical reason, I remember my mom and my dad sitting down on a couch in the living room talking about his taking the trip ahead of the family to California to find a place to [live]. I remember him saying, “I want Kenny to come with me.” That was the first time that I had a sense of real connection with my father. When we drove down from Seattle to basically Hollywood, that was probably the most bonding experience of my life with my father and I learned, for example, that he loved to sing. I was not aware of that. We sang a lot on the road down south. I remember most poignantly singing “California Here I Come” as we crossed the Golden Gate Bridge.
His musical taste must have been quite different than yours? He was a big fan of Bing Crosby. He was a child of the 40s. That’s the reason why my oldest son is named Crosby, not because of David Crosby. (Laughs) When I first met David, he said, “So your son, it’s not after me is it?” I said, “No, not you.” (Laughs) But Crosby, Stills & Nash was one of the great harmony groups of that era. Crosby and Nash sang on a couple of my records. They sang on my first children’s record called Return to Pooh Corner and then they sang again on my Christmas record which was called December. 42 ROUTE Magazine
But my dad actually wore a fedora and smoked a pipe, much like Bing, so in a way, he sort of emulated that kind of heroic, calm, casual, you know, “well, well, well.” For me, watching the road pictures—the Bing Crosby, Bob Hope movies and stuff like that—my dad and I would always stay up late and watch that on The Late Show... That as a common thing. In a way, Bing Crosby became for me, a model of the kind of career I imagined myself having, because he always seemed to be having fun. And he kind of went wherever he wanted to go.
What music did you grow up listening to? My big brother Dan, who’s four years older than me, was the first one to be into rock and roll. And he used to buy 45s. He would have a big thick book of 45s, which I was not allowed to touch. So of course, when I would come home from school ahead of him, I would get into his record collection and play everything. I played Elvis Presley’s “Hound Dog” before I had any idea who he even was. Buddy Holly… I was a complete fanatic. Brenda Lee and of course the Doo-wop groups: Danny & the Juniors and [The] Del-Vikings, and some of that. And then that morphed into the folk period. I started taking guitar lessons from a folk singer in town. And then Bob Dylan happened. And that completely changed my awareness of folk music from the sort of early Joan Baez folky guys to earthier sort of Woody Guthrie wannabes, Dylan being the primary one. And I learned “Blowin’ in the Wind” from a Sing Out! magazine before I ever heard Dylan sing it. [But] when I heard it, I started writing my own music the very same day. I wrote my first song. So, I had a folk and country influence like Merle Haggard from my big brother Bob. But I had this rock and roll influence from my brother Dan, also into folk, but really deeply into rock and roll. And he would turn me on to his favorite music, artists like Fats Domino and Elvis, and of course, Little Richard, all at the same time. My mom came home from work one night and she said, “I hear there’s a young rock and roll act on TV tonight that all the kids are talking about. You should watch it.” And of course, it was the first Beatles performance on [The] Ed Sullivan [Show]. It changed my life. So many musicians of my era have the same story. The next thing I know, I put down the acoustic guitar and bought an electric [one]. I got talking to other players who were influenced too. One of my best buddies picked up a bass and wanted to be Paul McCartney. So, we sort of started a rock band that had evolved from being a folk band. My folk buddies didn’t get it and they didn’t move on. So, I picked up a whole new circle of friends who wanted to be more electric players. And of course, the writing that I’d begun evolved immediately into writing English invasion-style songs and anything that could feel appropriate for electric guitars.
Around that time, there was a lot happening up in Laurel Canyon. A lot of those guys, Buffalo Springfield, the Mamas and the Papas, Jackson Browne, and so on were all coming together to create that folkish classic rock sound. Were you involved at all in that, or were you impacted by what they were doing? I was only tangentially. I would go to the Troubadour like most [musicians], but I would go see other acts. And so, I saw Jackson
there. And Jackson actually lived a few miles from me. I lived in Lincoln Heights, which is East L.A., and he lived in Silver Lake, which was like one or two towns towards Hollywood from me. I would run into different people like Longbranch Pennywhistle, which of course, with Glenn [Frey], would become The Eagles… they played at the Troubadour and my buddies and I would go see them sometimes just to hang out and see what was going on. And Steve Martin, Linda Ronstadt… I was a big fan of Linda’s, but my tangential connection to Laurel Canyon was because of the Nitty Gritty Dirt Band. I met some of those guys at a party. So, I gradually met a few people in the Canyon and sometimes I would go visit them. There was not a lot of collaborating back then, but a lot of sharing. You know, we’d go to a party and there’d be four or five musicians with guitars, and we’d sit in a circle and we’d trade tunes. I don’t think there’s a lot of that sort of thing going on in Hollywood anymore.
Was your songwriting very influenced by the Canyon folks at that time? That was still the “Danny’s Song” and “House at Pooh Corner” period for me, so I was still pretty folky at the time. But Jackson’s “These Days,” you know! I heard his stuff and I thought that he was a genius. I never really figured that we’d be on the same stage together, but I knew of him and we would run into each other. But there was sort of a distance about him that is reflected in his music. I was very shy, so, it was not like me to go, “Hey, man, I’m a writer, too.” I kept it on the down low. But he’s a quintessential artist to me. He’s the one who makes art because he has to. I remember one time I went to a party after a Troubadour gig that was at Glenn [Frey]’s place. He had an apartment near the Troubadour. We went there and Glenn goes, “Hey, let me play you guys”—there’s about six of us there—“Let me play you guys some of the cuts we’ve just been working on.” He played a couple of things and asked, “What do you think?” Well, that was his first mistake because I went, “Oh, wow, that’s really good. But, you know, if you took that section there and you moved it to the end, you could do a whole cycle on that.” And there’s this pause. And Glenn goes, “Who the f**k is this guy?” I took that as my cue to leave. (Laughs)
You switched gears soon after and focused on songwriting for other artists. Why so? I needed money and I didn’t know how else to get it. You know, with ABC Wingate, I could get 100 bucks a week. I was trying to do studio work, but I wasn’t good enough on the guitar. I could do some background vocals. That was easy for me. But there wasn’t that much work. And so, a friend of mine said, “Oh, so-and-so just got a deal with ABC where he gets a weekly check.” And I went, “I’m in. And how much is it?”
The Nitty Gritty Dirt Band were the first to actually record your song “House at Pooh Corner.” That must have been overwhelming? They passed on “Danny’s Song,” which was interesting to me, because they couldn’t agree on the tune. Jeff Hanna, who considered himself the leader of the band, wanted to sing
“Danny’s Song,” but the band didn’t agree with him. That’s the problem with being in a democratic band. I think they agreed to do three or four tunes. “Prodigal’s Return,” “Santa Rosa,” “Yukon Railroad,” and of course, “House at Pooh Corner.”
Were you a fan of the Nitty Gritty Dirt Band before you actually started writing songs for them? No, I hadn’t really heard of them until I met Jim Messina at a party. They seemed like really good guys. And then I showed them a bunch of my stuff and they liked it.
How did you and Messina decide to come together to actually form a duo? Well, I was looking by the time that I got that writing gig. I rented a house in East L.A.; my rent was $65 a month. I started sending tapes out to prospective producers. And one of the people I really wanted to hunt down was Messina, because he produced the last Buffalo Springfield album. He played bass on it. Simultaneously, he was looking for acts to produce because he’d left Poco and was trying to be a staff producer. And then my big brother Dan became a trainee for Columbia Records and was hired by Clive Davis to be a trainee for A&R and his best buddy, Don Ellis, who would later become the president of RCA Records, was also chosen by Clive at the time to be a trainee. Don, I guess, knew Jimmy through some other avenue. And so, Don Ellis and my brother Dan were trying to get us together. And I sent my letter and Jimmy was looking for artists. So, all this electricity came together in one place. From what I understand, he had auditioned Dan Fogelberg before me and passed. It could have been Fogelberg and Messina.
How were you progressing as a songwriter and young musician by this time? I had been doing a lot of songwriting before I met Jimmy, so I had some stuff in the trunk. And then when Jimmy and I ROUTE Magazine 43
took off, that was very self-confidence building. And I was continuing to write. We only wrote a couple of things together. So, I was writing alone. We recorded an album a year, which was what Clive wanted. So, the level of pressure to keep writing while touring, I never did well writing, and touring at the same time. So, I’d have to come home, have quiet time, and then start to drop into whatever I needed to do. But it was hard to keep up with the amount of productivity that they wanted. So, I started collaborating and one thing led to another. And then around Mother Lode (1974), near the end of the Loggins and Messina period, I discovered that I really liked writing with piano players because my ear was being developed and I didn’t know how to play those chords. So, I found more chordal freedom and more melodic freedom by writing with keyboard guys. That’s how my writing evolved into “Celebrate Me Home.”
Did you have a definite musical/career direction that you wanted to follow at the time? Well, yes and no. I knew that for me, what was exciting to me was moving into more of an R&B direction. Stevie Wonder had shown up by then and was changing the face of pop music.
What was the response from your fellow musicians? Did they support your vision, or did they wonder what the hell you were doing? Probably both. (Laughs) When I went solo, I hired my own players. I was looking for players who were influenced by more of the East Coast smooth jazz thing. I wanted to bring that element into my music. And then, of course, I’m still writing on an acoustic guitar or with keyboard players. So, we’re all experimenting with mixing different kinds of musicians together to see where a jazzier bass player might take a groove. And that was very interesting for me. And that’s how I started to write. It was always this sort of push-pull. “Footloose,” for example, is more of my Chuck Berry, you know, Johnny B. Goode era or Little Richard.
Your first solo album Celebrate Me Home eventually went platinum. It took some time.
You would go on to open for Fleetwood Mac on their 197778 Rumors world tour. That must have been an experience. How did it come about? To my knowledge, I was invited by them. There may have been a managerial or agency thing that I wasn’t aware of, but Fleetwood had opened for Loggins and Messina a few times. I hadn’t really made a personal connection with them at that time. But I guess my going solo and having name recognition was something the agents liked because it would help sell tickets. I always call it the “Rumors Ride.” I went on the Rumors Ride with them early on from where Rumors was just starting to take off. And next thing you know, we’re playing arenas, four or five thousand seaters. And they just kept going up from there. It was incredible. But Stevie [Nicks] and 44 ROUTE Magazine
I would hang out. We were never romantic, but we became good friends. We just hung out and talked, sharing that experience. I always credit Stevie as really breaking my solo career because it was really the duet with Stevie [“Whenever I Call You Friend”] that made people aware of me as a solo artist.
Let’s jump into the story behind some of our favorite Kenny Loggins songs. What inspired you to write “Celebrate Me Home” (1977)? The lyrics to “Celebrate Me Home” just popped into my head. I originally had the melody in 4/4, more like a Boz Scaggs’ Silk Degrees kind of group, but when I took it to New York, and I showed it to Phil Ramone, he shifted it to 6/8. And I had that lyric “Please celebrate me home” and I said, “I know that I’m going to have to write another line, because I know that doesn’t make sense.” And he said, “No, man, that makes total sense, write that song.” We were at the top of December, in New York, and I’m a West Coast guy, and was getting homesick. He said, “Go up to my office and just kick at it for a while and see what you come up with.” And that’s where the line “Home for the Holidays” was written. It came out of the fact that it was December… I hadn’t really perceived it as a holiday song, it was more like, just wishing you were home, and so that’s where that came from. I just pursued that angle and came down an hour later and I had that lyric.
You did “Footloose,” as a favor for a friend? Dean Pitchford had written a screenplay called Footloose. He and I had written lyrics together previously for other songs and he came to me one day and asked me to read his screenplay and if I liked it, possibly write a few songs together. He had a buyer for the screenplay but wanted them to see him as a musician-lyricist also. He had a big vision of how he wanted to approach this. I promised him that I would check it out. I thought it was good, but I didn’t know that it would be great and anthemic, so I said, “Sure, let’s write a song.” I had the start of a groove that was based on “Devil with a Blue Dress” by Mitch Ryder & The Detroit Wheels, but I built on that, and we sat together and wrote [“Footloose”] and another one called “Heaven Helps the Man,” “I’m Free,” and I think we even had a third, but we originally wrote “Footloose” to be for the barroom scene—in the middle of the screenplay—and instead, I was shocked when I went to see the premiere. When the movie starts, and it’s with the song and the feet going back and forth, I didn’t see that coming at all. I looked over at Dean and we both started laughing like, “Yeah this is a home run.”
Did you see the remake of the 2011 film? Yeah, I was surprised that they started the movie with my version of “Footloose” again. Blake Shelton did a remake, and I expected the version that they would play would be his, but I’m sitting at the premiere of the second one and I hadn’t heard Blake’s version yet, and I’m listening to the whole drum intro and I turned to my girlfriend and said, “They nailed [it], it sounds exactly like my version.” And she said, “It is your version, stupid!” (Laughs) So that was a pleasant surprise. I liked that version [of the film], actually. I thought there was a lot to like about it.
“Danger Zone,” for Top Gun, is an interesting song because you didn’t actually write it. Tom Whitlock, one of the co-writers of the song, shared that Toto was actually supposed to record it, but they had contract issues. Then it was offered to Bryan Adams, Corey Hart, and REO Speedwagon. You were already working on “Playing with the Boys” for the film when they approached you. I got a message from my A&R man at Columbia that they want to know if I would have the time, because I guess it got down to where the lawyers were f**king it up left and right, and I know that the fella in REO, Kevin, told me that the song was just too high, it was just the high notes that he didn’t have, so he passed. Anyway, they probably already had the track recorded, but I got a message: “Do you want to give it a try?” and I said, “Is it up tempo?” I hadn’t heard it yet, but I needed up-tempo songs for my show, and they said, “Yeah, it’s a rocker.” I said, “Okay, I’m in.” Tom came over and brought what rough they had, and I added some chords and changed some things, and added some lyrics to it, and then we went in a day or two later and recorded the changes we’d made.
The music you recorded became anthems for these films that defined a generation. Footloose became a Box Office hit grossing over $80 million worldwide and Top Gun became an iconic movie that epitomizes the 1980s... Right, right. And Caddyshack.
And Caddyshack, of course. And you were almost connected to Flashdance. Now, you’ve been doing your homework for sure! That’s deep. Yeah, I saw a screening of Flashdance. It was at [Jerry] Bruckheimer’s office and I saw it on a Moviola, and I liked it. I thought it was good and I wanted to write a song for it, but I had a tour in the way, so I felt that I couldn’t stay in the studio, and tour, so I had to choose one. Obviously, I had a tour already booked. So, I get to Salt Lake City, one of the first, if not the first show on the tour. Walking on stage in the dark, the venue has 5,000 people, they’re all screaming. What I don’t know is that I’m about to walk off the edge of the stage. Behind the amps I walk over… Normally, I would cross behind them, turn right, and walk onto the stage. Well, for some reason, I thought that the stage was bigger than it was. I tumbled down about 10-15 feet, onto some packing cases below, and broke three ribs. I laid on the ground yelling for help while the audience was screaming my name. It was a very strange, surreal Shakespearean kind of moment. They finally found me and carried me to the dressing room, which they shouldn’t have done, because you don’t want to
move people with broken ribs. And I end up in the hospital that night. So, a few days later they send me home and I’m on some kind of strong painkiller. It worked so well that I called up Bruckheimer and said, “I’m back in. I can do this. The tour’s been canceled.” So, I go into the studio and I write a song called “No Dancing Allowed,” which I figured would be [Jennifer Beals] on her way to her audition or to try and check out the dance studio that she wanted to be in. I spent a full day or two trying to make the song work, but I cut it in a key that was too high for me to sing the chorus. Had I had my wits about me, I would have turned it into a duet so that I could have a female singing the high notes, but I didn’t think about it. You know, Percodan is probably not the best way to make a record. (Laughs) I just gave up. Obviously, it was not meant to be, but that would have been four of the biggest iconic movies of that era.
Maybe you and Irene Cara could have done it. Yeah, right! What a feeling that would have been. (Laughs)
(Laughs) When you went on tour and the audience would sing your songs right along with you, what was that like for you? It was great because I knew that I had those songs to count on for the end of the show. I could leave those for the close and the encore. “Footloose” was always going to take the show up to the next stratosphere. “Danger Zone” didn’t work that well initially. It would get a really strong audience response for 30 seconds and then they would come down. It didn’t hold the energy and it would take many years before “Danger Zone” became that iconic song that people just love. “Footloose” went through a period of time where it was out of fashion. It had a couple years where it was really “the song” that I relied on. And then it wasn’t so much, it was like not cool. I think that whole techno, late eighties thing probably took over. And then something happened again where the movie became admired on a level that was more iconic and stood out over the years. What’s interesting to me is that Top Gun, Footloose, and Caddyshack are still among the top hundred most rented movies.
Your music is very much a part of Americana and very much a part of a whole decade’s identity. What role do you think that 80s music and film has played in shaping world culture and politics? I think that part of the allure of Footloose is that Dean managed to write a story that speaks to personal freedom, so it’s not another dance movie, and when people categorize it as ROUTE Magazine 45
a dance movie, they forget that the story itself is… I think that it is classic America. “We’re gonna dance damn it!” It’s a metaphor for freedom itself and it becomes an important message. Back in the early ’80s I was sought out by Senator Cranston here in California, and we were having a conversation about Russia at the time. I said, “You know, if you really want to get the youth of Russia to bring down communism, send over rock and roll, because nothing speaks more eloquently to freedom than rock and roll.” There’s something about rock and roll that makes kids want to go, ‘This is my life.’ And it’s been that way from the beginning. When I did music in movies, it was a brand-new idea to put pop and rock in movies, in prominent roles in that film. And if you look at “I’m Alright” from Caddyshack, the temp music for Danny (Michael O’Keefe) riding his bicycle in the opening scene through the housing development was a Bob Dylan song, and I was surprised by that because nothing I was looking at said Bob Dylan. I was sitting in the private screening and what caught my attention was that they were trying to tell me something about that character with that song, and they wanted my song to do the same thing. So, that’s when I wrote “I’m alright don’t nobody worry about me / why you got to give me a fight?” You know, it’s like they want to telegraph the idea that he’s a rebel. He’s not yet a rebel, but he’s going to become one, and that’s another American stance.
You didn’t actually meet Bill Murray until years later. Correct, yeah, I met him when the Cubs were fighting for the World Series. We met in a coffee shop.
By accident? Did he know who you were? Yeah, thank goodness. (Laughs) He was having breakfast and so was I. I went over to him: “Hi Bill, its Kenny Loggins, blah, blah, blah” It would have been how many years later? Maybe 20-30 years. I told him my favorite thing of his, which caught him completely off guard, was Rock the Kasbah. I love that movie. Have you seen it yet? It’s great and I think that other than Almost Famous, Kate Hudson was at her best.
Almost Famous was pretty damn good though. As a musician, what did you think of the film? Almost Famous? Loved it. And the scene in the airplane where they think the plane’s going to crash. How could I not relate to all those characters!
What about on the bus when nobody’s talking to each other and then they sing “Tiny Dancer?” Another great scene.
You did a lot of touring on buses. Was that scene realistic? It never happened to me in that way. We didn’t break out in song. (Laughs) But yeah, Messina and I had a fight in the back seat of one of the cars once where he was pulling on my beard. We didn’t come to blows, but it was close. You know, too much proximity, too young. Too much fame, too young. 46 ROUTE Magazine
It must have been a crazy time. You were 19 in the “Summer of Love”, 21 in 1969… in California. I mean, you were at the right age, the right place, the right stuff was going on. Your success and fame were taking off. How did you manage all of that? It came incrementally. I think that it didn’t help my first marriage much; to be 25-26 years old and have that much adulation. My oldest boy’s 40 and he said, “Dad, you don’t know what normal is. You never experienced the things that young men have to experience in order to grow up and become part of the social fabric or whatever.” I moved into the pop culture zeitgeist early on, and I managed to maintain it. I mean, the fact that I still get to sing for a living is an incredible gift. There aren’t that many acts that have managed to work all the way through all these years. Some people have asked me, “Why did you continue to work?” and I say, “divorce” (Laughs)—I’ve been divorced twice, and each time I had to rebuild my finances. So, I never stopped working.
You’re a young 73 years old now. Do you feel it? Sometimes. The image I would have had of 73 when I was 23… I’m not that. I think we never actually perceive ourselves as the age we actually are. And as you get older, you perceive yourself even younger. So, in my head, I’m somewhere in my mid-to-late 50s, but some days not so much. There is a part of me that just feels tired. I’ve been on the road for so long.
A lot of artists have to carry a guitar and stand a lot while performing; does that bring a lot of musicians back problems? I had shoulder problems and thoracic problems because the weight of the guitar especially… I was playing Duesenbergs which are heavy like Les Pauls, and the weight pulls your shoulder forward and down. I was having trouble getting full breaths of air. I couldn’t get the air in to keep the notes strong. So, I started working on that. I had new guitars made that were as light as possible. It’s much better now.
Do you still have the desire to write songs for other people or is writing for yourself more the focus nowadays? I think that’s the Paradox. It’s that I really wrote for myself all those years. One of the reasons that I didn’t get any covers when I was with ABC was because I wrote in my own range, I wrote in a way that wasn’t tailored for other acts, and so here I am at this stage in my life where I really don’t think there’s much of a marketplace for me. Part of my motivation has been to be Kenny Loggins and to get out in the world and to do that thing, that rock star thing that I grew up dreaming of, and I love to do it, but there’s not much of a marketplace for it. And when I do go out, they want “Footloose” and they want “Danger Zone,” and they want “I’m Alright”… but you can spend the rest of your life doing your personal history. So, what am I writing for? Am I writing something that I can take on stage and will people start yawning and going, “No, play ‘Footloose?’” A large part of me wants to stay creative and wants to just write and do things. I know that I feel better when I do it, and that’s pretty much where I am right now.
L A F O N D A’S G I F T S H O P L A FG OIN L A F O N D A’S F TD A’S S H OGP I F T S H O P
L A F O N D A’S G I F T S H O P L A F O N D A’S G I F T S H O P
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could walk around inside, the Fort Courage Trading Post, and a towering sign declaring the collection of wooden structures the “Home of the F Troop.” Camping grounds, motel units, and a trailer park were all conveniently located on the property. The octagonal structure, rising out of the desert like a circus tent, was built by Van de Kamp’s Holland Dutch Bakery in 1967. Van de Kamp’s founder Theodore Van de Kamp, the grandson of a Dutch baker, opened the original food stand in Los Angeles in 1915 with his three siblings. Girls in Dutch costumes scooped “genuine Holland Dutch Saratoga chips” for eager customers. The humble business was wildly successful and, by 1928, their motto (“made clean, kept clean, sold clean”) adorned 53 bakeries across Los Angeles. Their buildings featured tall green-and-silver windmills and frilled octagonal sides. In 1967, the company decided to create one of their whimsical windmills in Fort Courage. It seemed like the perfect arrangement until the quirky cowboy comedy came to an abrupt end later that same year. While the parody maintained strong ratings throughout its brief run, Warner Bros. ultimately decided to cancel the show after its second season due to the high cost of filming season two in color and the amount of space that it took up on the lot. The final episode aired on April 6, 1967, and the peacetime fort and its screwball crew became an ephemeral blip in the long history of television. Tourism slowed to a trickle and the officials at Van de Kamp quickly realized that they had made a mistake establishing a location at this far-off spot. People stopped visiting the Fort, and its old-fashioned spires and trading post grew dilapidated. Van de Kamp’s Holland Dutch Bakery held on to the property until they themselves went bankrupt in 1990. It is one of just two of their windmillshaped buildings left in existence, the other being a Denny’s in Arcadia, California, just off of Route 66. A slew of businesses moved into the neglected park over the years, but none stayed for long. By the time a fire blazed through Fort Courage and the Pancake House in 2020, the park was largely forgotten. Today, the fort and its eye-catching restaurant stand scorched and in splinters, a mysterious ruin on the side of a lonely road. The interwoven stories of Houck, Fort Courage, and Van de Kamp capture the magic of that specific moment in time, Theodore Van de Kamp’s American Dream, and the simplicity of the harmless Civil War troop’s weekly antics. For travelers who venture off the beaten path, it is still there to explore.
Image by David J. Schwartz – Pics On Route 66.
D
riving through Apache County, Arizona, you see it rising out of the reddish sand. An octagonal, whitesided building blackened as if by flames. An eyecatching sign in the shape of a windmill declares simply: Pancake House. The unusual structure stands before the ruins of what looks like a Civil War fort, complete with a cheery red-roofed trading post. Like so many lost places along Route 66, the attraction waits patiently for its story to be rediscovered. The story of the Pancake House and its neighboring trading post begins in 1965. That year, the airwaves were saturated with Wild West programming. Shows like Gunsmoke and Death Valley Days played in living rooms across America every night of the week. People loved these sweeping depictions of the American West. However, by 1965, the familiar formula was becoming passé. Americans wanted Westerns that broke the mold and dared to poke fun at the iconic genre. That is where F Troop came in. The satirical Western’s troop of goofy, slapstick characters rode onto the small screen on September 14, 1965. For two seasons, viewers delighted in the exploits of the blustering Captain Parmenter’s scheming but lovable soldiers and the Hekawi tribe (so named because they got lost and exclaimed “where the Hekawi?”) at the fictional Civil War outpost of Fort Courage. The tongue-in-cheek satire exploded, and in 1966, executives at Warner Bros. decided to cash in on the show’s popularity by bringing the fictional Fort Courage Trading Post to life at the site of a real Wild West outpost on the Arizonan frontier. The Fort Courage theme park was built in Houck, Arizona, which was originally founded as an outpost by Pony Express rider James Houck in 1874 and is now an unincorporated community of about 1,000 people. Houck built a trading post in the heart of the Arizona desert and acted as a sheriff, rancher, and trader in the community that sprang up around his outpost. In 1887, Houck was accused of killing another rancher and fled to Phoenix. After his departure, the trading post changed hands a few times, operating until it was torn down in 1922. A small community, mostly Navajo, remained in the surrounding area. The site of the old fort was the perfect place for Warner Bros. to build the official Fort Courage theme park. A life-size replica of the wacky settlement rose out of the sand, complete with real wooden towers that visitors
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TOP 5 NEVADA GHOST TOWNS NOT TO MISS
Delamar
Belmont
Berlin
Midas
UNIONVILLE
A true ghost town, Delamar, located in southeastern Nevada, hasn’t been populated since 1934 after its mine was closed. This town was known as the “widowmaker” for the number of men who lost their lives in the mines. Nothing but ruins stand now, so it’s a great place to go hiking and see part of Gold Rush history.
With old machinery, beautiful brick facades, and four mill ruins, Belmont, located in central Nevada, is a place to see. Once the seat of the county, they boasted over 100 businesses, but was abandoned around 1901 when the mines ran dry. There is even graffiti supposedly from the Manson family inside the restored Courthouse.
Due to a lack of gold, this town was abandoned by 1911. As it’s in a State Park, you can follow the trails throughout to learn about Berlin, the mine that made it, and discover fossils supposedly dating back millions of years. If you’re a fan of history, hiking, and fossils this town is for you.
Probably the sleepiest ghost town, Midas, in northern Nevada, and its mine never had the gold to justify its name, hence its Post Office shutting down in 1942. However, if you want to visit scenic, rolling hills, towering trees, historic buildings, and an actual mine shaft you can enter, this is the place to go.
West of Star Peak, with a population of 20, this could be called a living ghost town. Between 1870 and 1880, the area produced three million dollars in silver. It was so popular that even Mark Twain tried his luck here. The only business open is a B&B, making it perfect to explore peaceful hills and abandoned buildings.
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Image by Melissa Whitney.
The picturesque state of Nevada is known for its wild beauty, evocative history, and enviable weather, but alongside all of the quirky destinations and unbelievable roadside Americana, Nevada is also home to a fair number of largely abandoned locations; spooky long forsaken mining settlements. There are numerous must-visit deserted towns like Rhyolite and Goldfield that shouldn’t be missed, but we’ve decided to pull together some of our favorites that may not yet be on your radar. These ghost towns should be a part of your travel and play in the Sagebrush state the next time you find yourself passing through.
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ON THE 52 ROUTE Magazine
PRAIRIE By Cheryl Eichar Jett
Photographs by David J. Schwartz - Pics On Route 66 ROUTE Magazine 53
R
oute 66 stands as a beacon to the world, bringing avid fans, tour groups, and curiosity seekers from almost every corner of the globe to the Mother Road’s 2,400-plus miles of variety. There is something for every traveler, from world-class exhibits to museums of the unusual. From rolling prairies to red mesas. From sleek bistros to greasy diners. From pricey boutiques to the humblest of souvenir shops. And then there are the totally unexpected places, tucked away along a quaint street in a tiny town, with a sweet surprise awaiting unsuspecting first-time guests. Such is the Wild Hare Cafe in minute Elkhart, Illinois, a charming restaurant with its own gift shop and art gallery chock full of artfully arranged merchandise and antiques. The menu features made-from-scratch Dutch, French, South African, and American cuisine—in a village of 405 souls on the Illinois prairie. This eclectic eatery-shop-gallery seems as if it could have just been dropped onto Elkhart’s miniature main street, as if an Oz-like tornado had simply deposited it there. The thing that gives it away, though, as having been an actual part of this historic burg is the fact that the businesses are tucked inside of the old town bank and the former dry goods store. Adding to its historic status, Elkhart was home to three-term Governor Richard Oglesby and to cattle baron John Dean Gillett. And, as if that were not enough, its most colorful citizen was unarguably Captain Adam Bogardus, world-famous—at the time, anyway—marksman and performer with Buffalo Bill Cody’s Wild West Show. But these days, Elkhart’s most famous townspeople are undeniably Andrea and Peter Niehaus, Wild Hare hosts, owners, and chefs de cuisine. The actual narrative of how Peter and Andrea found and renovated two buildings and established three businesses on Elkhart’s main street is a bit more complicated than the tornado analogy. And although this couple is as hospitable as prairie homesteaders, and the menu that they pride themselves on offers “simple, comfort food,” their friendly demeanor and focus on the future belie their intriguing pasts. Their path to Elkhart went through several continents during their remarkable careers and is as interesting as they are.
A Colorful Past Peter’s story began in the south of Holland, not far from the French border, where he was born, one of eight children, to Pierre and Eulalia Niehaus. Pierre inherited one of the largest farms in the area but wanted to do something besides farming, and after World War II, he felt that there were not the opportunities in his country that he’d find elsewhere. That’s why, when young Peter (actually also named Pierre) was just eight years old, his father moved the whole family 5,700 miles “as the crow flies” to South Africa for an engineering job. In the country at the southernmost tip of the African continent, Pierre expected to better support his large brood. 54 ROUTE Magazine
There, Peter grew up. “I followed in my father’s footsteps to work in engineering,” he explained. “I had experiences working in engineering in different countries, working with various architects.” Not to limit his worldview, Peter also spent time in submarines while in the Navy and pursued a life in France for a couple of years. Back in South Africa, Peter married, and the couple had three sons. In the tiny town of Onondaga, Michigan, Andrea was born on her ancestors’ 150-year-old farm to parents Henry and Katherine Baldwin and grew up as part of an artistic family. She remembers a love of collecting old and interesting items and searching for arrowheads. Collecting, curating, and arranging objects led her, perhaps inevitably, to a career in retailing and merchandising. Through mutual friends, Andrea met a South African man with a Michigan dental practice and itchy feet. Older than Andrea, he had first practiced in Capetown, then moved with his first wife to England, and then, fascinated by the United States, to Michigan. That marriage, which had produced two
Andrea and Peter Niehaus at the cafe.
sons, ended, but before he was ready to move again, he met Andrea. They married and kept busy with their work, until Andrea’s husband expressed a desire to return to England. For the next two years, Andrea did not work, but was thrilled to explore the beautiful English countryside and the plentiful antique shops. But two years later, the couple decided to move to Capetown, South Africa, where her husband continued to practice dentistry. Andrea returned to merchandising before opening her own shop. She loved their life in the cultural hub that is Capetown, but eventually, the marriage became irreconcilable and she and her husband divorced.
Common Threads Twenty years after arriving in South Africa but single again, Andrea met Peter, also divorced, through a group of mutual friends, two of which were a couple—a South African man and an American woman from Chicago. There was a lot to
talk about. As Peter and Andrea got to know each other, they realized how much they had in common—each being born into an artistic rural family, and a love of cooking and nature —despite growing up half a world away from each other. With the background of city life and work, they often sought the outdoors together. Walking on the beach, packing a picnic hamper, and driving down a quiet road to see where it led, or spending time at a nearby nature preserve became favorite activities as the years ticked by. Then in the 1990s, Andrea’s father back in Michigan became very ill, reminding her that it had been many years since she’d been home. At the same time, the political climate in South Africa was changing, and so they considered a move. Peter was fascinated with the US and had visited several times, although only to port cities. A decision was made, and they moved in 1998, changing continents and lifestyles. Andrea’s sister lived in Lincoln, Illinois, and she and Peter put down roots nearby on the Illinois prairie, knowing full well that ROUTE Magazine 55
historic Route 66 ran right by them. Peter looked forward to rural life while Andrea anticipated opening a shop. And, to top off their series of events, they got married in a pretty garden wedding in her sister’s backyard. Peter established a new construction company, although he spent time with Andrea searching for the right business location. “I wanted to buy an old building or two,” Andrea recalled. “So, we looked at little towns around central Illinois.” Eventually, her sister suggested that they take a look at Elkhart because it was quaint and close to their Lincoln homes. “It’s very picturesque, very Norman Rockwellian in its feel, [with] a lovely street with buildings up and down both sides,” she said. “But I had to wait a few years before anything actually came up [for sale]. So, when the old bank building became available, my husband bought [it] for me. It was in a terrible state of disrepair, so he and a team renovated it for almost two years before I could get it open and going.”
New Hosts in Town Horsefeathers opened in 2004 in the second building from the railroad tracks—originally the Chicago and Alton Railroad —that lie parallel to old Route 66. “It worked out quite well … just off I-55, so it’s perfectly located,” Andrea said. “And of course, being on Route 66, we have visitors in March until October, from all over the world.” Peter chimed in, “There are
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a lot of people on Route 66, and we have groups that come, sometimes on motorbikes. They are often going all the way to California.” Peter particularly enjoys meeting the travelers. “[They] come through from all over the world, and on motorcycles … some people are just walking it, all the way to Santa Monica. One concept that people find interesting is that this is probably one of the longest historic highways in existence. And I get to practice my languages, and visitors don’t expect to find someone here that speaks their languages from back in Europe,” said Peter. Although the couple, when pressed, will admit a bit of culture shock in moving from the cosmopolitan city of Capetown, South Africa, to the Illinois small-town prairie, they’ve never looked back. The following year, Geoff Ladd became Executive Director of Abraham Lincoln Tourism Bureau of Logan County (Elkhart is one of the towns) and met Andrea and Peter. “I recognized right away that they were doing a great job in helping to keep the beautiful historic downtown Elkhart district a viable place for people to come and shop—not just locals, but a lot of folks from Springfield and the surrounding area and Lincoln,” Ladd recalled. “They marketed themselves from the moment I met them in terms of Route 66. They got it from the word go.” Two years later, the Wild Hare Cafe opened, and seamlessly blended into the gift shop. “I wanted to establish the antiques and gift side, but always intended to start an eatery, a cafetearoom approach, kind of a gentle approach to food.
Everything is made from scratch.” At that time, Peter retired from the construction business to indulge his love of cooking and baking. “Having the cafe, the food, the whole thing was the key,” said Andrea. “Neither of us had been in that field before, but we had a good idea what we really wanted to do. We put it together and it worked from the first month. It was quite remarkable, but because it was an atmospheric, lovely old place with homemade food.” That “lovely old place” was the former Elkhart bank, an impressive building constructed a bit above typical Midwestern “Main Street architecture,” with brick pilasters topped with stonework detail and the distinct aura of early Art Deco design. The bank closed in 1932 and was superseded by a common parade of small-town tenants— doctors, dentists, a beauty salon, and a rec center, all before the local American Legion occupied it for some 40 years. Peter sets up for the day. The couple’s next acquisition was the old dry goods store, formerly a fantastic diversity of birds, the flora and fauna, and then Brennan’s and later Lanterman’s, next door to the west. also the animals.” Andrea had had her eye on it for some time, and finally got Preservation-minded, Peter has been involved in several local owner Tom Scully to sell. They linked the two buildings Logan County projects, including helping to save the historic with an opening cut between, dubbed the new space “Little Elkhart bridge—the Gillett Memorial Arch—which serves as Foxes,” and added locally produced food items and kitchena link between the cemetery and the Gillett-Oglesby estate. related antiques for a vintage general store look. And they Despite the county’s efforts to demolish it to enable road added local artists’ work, which hangs throughout both widening, the bridge remains, now determined to be eligible buildings. “We have original art, both contemporary and for listing in the National Register of Historic Places. vintage. My sister is an artist, and I have a lot of her work Next, the couple began thinking about the possibility of a and work from other artists from the Springfield area,” mural on the side of their building which would face Route Andrea said. 66. In 2017, the idea blossomed into reality when Andrea’s Of course, as in many old buildings, the staff and customers sister, artist Renee Baldwin-Sisk, designed a 36-foot-long aren’t always the only souls in residence. “We’ve had some mural. Featuring Elkhart’s historical sites, plus classic cars on odd things [happen]. Things would be missing or there’d be Route 66, Andrea did most of the painting herself, producing noises,” Andrea explained. The bank vaults have been turned their latest contribution to Elkhart. into little dining rooms, and one of them was the scene of an After almost 17 years in central Illinois, the pair doesn’t odd incident. “One day, one of the waitresses was in there and spend time looking backward too often, although they will a table knife fell from the ceiling right down onto the middle admit that sometimes they miss elements of their South of the table. Sometimes you hear conversations or smell African life—Peter, the water and sailing with his sons, and cigarettes or cigar smoke ... the waitresses will say ‘jeepers, Andrea, cosmopolitan city life. Seeing the lure of Route 66 how did that happen?’” through the heart of Illinois firsthand for almost two decades, the pair hold no regrets as they ponder their path to the Community Projects prairie in the Land of Lincoln and dream about their future. Almost since the beginning, the Niehauses have partnered America’s Main Street is covered with dining options with Elkhart Historical Society to produce a dinner and that range from fast food to fine dining, new eateries, and lecture series, featuring Illinois authors and historians, plus ma and pa venues that have been around for decades. In experts in various fields. Peter has presented programs on the truth, there is something for everyone. But somehow, this flowers and birds of South Africa, which he delighted in as place is just a little special. There is not a whole lot going an avid birdwatcher and gardener. “I grew up on a farm and on down in sleepy Elkhart, but for those interested in always loved the outdoors and animals, and then I went to discovering some unusual treasures, tasty home-cooked food, Africa where I always wanted to go to places like the game and a laid-back vibe that perfectly represents the heyday of preserves and the national parks. Of course, South Africa has Route 66 travel, the Wild Hare Cafe is waiting for you. ROUTE Magazine 57
I
n the earliest days of Route 66, mom-and-pop shops filled every stretch of America’s Main Street, luring travelers off the Interstate with glimmering neon signs and fiberglass characters. Many of the original Route 66 establishments are now gone, their treasures scattered among the antique malls and stores that abound on Missouri and Illinois 66. Others, like the Mule Trading Post in Rolla, Missouri, are given a second life. The history of the Mule Trading Post follows the lanes of the Mother Road—literally. In 1947, founder Frank Ebling established the trading post with its iconic neon sign along Route 66 in Pacific, Missouri. Ebling saw people pouring into Missouri on the new highway during the postwar era and, in true entrepreneurial style, decided to give them a reason to stop. The original trading post sold snacks, Route 66 souvenirs, and anything else tired travelers might desire. When the two-lane highway was bypassed by the new four-lane Route 66 in 1957, Ebling moved his trading post to nearby Rolla, putting himself in Route 66’s path once again. In 1966, Ebling sold the business to Herbert Baden, a retired Marine who ran the first Stuckey’s candy store from 1962 to 1966. Baden ran the business until the early 1990s, adding the red barn-style roof and, briefly, a pack of mules in a pen to the side, who served as mascots. When he retired in the early 1990s, Baden sold the trading post to Jack Whittier, who added Southwesternstyle souvenirs. Jim Davis, who bought it in 2000, returned to selling the Route 66 souvenirs that made the stop popular in its heyday. However, a number of other Route 66-themed stops had sprung up since 1947, and Davis’ Mule Trading Post was not an immediate success. As a result, he sold all the store’s inventory and closed up shop in 2004. For a moment, it looked like the Mule Trading Post had shut its doors for good. When local entrepreneurs Carl and Zelma Smith bought the store in 2004, they were more than up to the challenge of reviving the quirky trading post. “We had an old original restaurant we restored that was on 66—Granny’s Outpost in Jerome, [Missouri]—from about 1978 to 1988,” Smith said. “We fixed up Cookin’ from Scratch in Doolittle, [Missouri], and ran it from 1990 to 2002. They were both really successful.” In 2004, the Smiths were looking for a new project and the friendly outpost off Route 66 in Rolla was in dire need of rehabilitation.
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The Smiths needed inventory to fill the store and something that would set them apart from other Route 66 stops. They immediately turned to antiques. “When we had the restaurant in Jerome, we always sold [antiques] on the side,” Carl said. “We were always interested in them. I have my collection of oak furniture and Zelma loves to collect glass.” In addition to T-shirts that the Smiths designed themselves, and the usual tourist fare, the couple packed the store wall-to-wall with an astonishing array of knick-knacks. Swords, frying pans, old magazines, toys, Easter baskets, dishware, and anything else that might strike someone’s fancy covered the walls. An old piano, a popcorn machine, and a myriad of oak chairs spilled onto the porch. As the Smiths threw themselves into the store and began keeping regular hours, they saw business pick up right away. Carl, who grew up in Rolla in the 1950s, was aware of the storied road that wound through his community, but never understood its powerful lure until he and Zelma found themselves chatting with people from every corner of the globe. “We kept a guest book,” Carl said. “Last time I checked [there were] 58 countries. Pretty exotic places like Madagascar, Tasmanian Islands. We had lots of people from Australia and Europe; Germany, France, Italy.” Inspired by the shadow Route 66 cast in the imaginations of their visitors, the Smiths joined the Route 66 Association of Missouri. They fixed up the iconic mule sign with its wiggling neon ears and rescued another—the corn cobsmoking hillbilly sign, whose arms once pinwheeled over the Hillbilly Store in Hooker, Missouri—doing their part to keep all of Route 66’s treasures along the road. “We had [the signs] restored,” Carl said. “It would’ve been cheaper to buy new ones, but we had them restored a couple of times while we owned [the store]. We tried to keep it as close to the original as we could.” In 2017, after thirteen years serving as guides on America’s Main Street, traveling it, and collecting forgotten treasures, the Smiths decided to retire. They sold the Mule Trading Post to Dennis Prock, who has since modernized the interior. While white walls and reach-in freezers now dominate the inside of the little store, traces of Carl and Zelma’s collection remain. Thanks to the Smiths’ labor of love, the iconic mule still hangs above the door beside his hillbilly counterpart, filling new generations of travelers with amusement and wonder. The quintessential Mother Road shop fits in perfectly along Missouri’s stretch of 66.
Image by David J. Schwartz – Pics On Route 66.
M IS SOU R I M U L E
TH E BI RTH PL ACE O F RO UTE 66
R A IL H AV EN MOTEL
Experience history in comfort and style at the Best Western Rail Haven Motel, located in the birthplace of Route 66, Springfield, Missouri. Just a short distance from the city’s vibrant downtown, you’ve got the classic neon of the Mother Road right at your door and the heart of the Ozarks right at your fi ngertips. Built in 1937 and welcoming visitors since, come and experience Route 66 at the motel that defi nes the warmth and hospitality that a trip down America’s Main Street has always been known to offer.
2 0 3 S . G l e n s t o n e A v e , S p r i n g f i e l d , M O 6 5 8 0 2 • Te l : ( 417 ) 8 6 6 -19 6 3 • w w w. b w r a i l h a v e n . c o m
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4
1 Part of Me, Part of You Glenn Frey
A prominent and founding member of the renowned country rock band, The Eagles, Glenn Frey held his own with his solo career. Featured in the 1991 soundtrack of the hit movie, Thelma & Louise, this upbeat, spunky song will start your road trip on a high note.
2 Highway in the Wind
Arlo Guthrie This folksy, nostalgic tune from Arlo Guthrie’s 1967 debut LP, Alice’s Restaurant, will put you right in the road trip spirit with lyrics like, “Sail with me into the unknown void/ That has no end/ Swept along the open road/ That don’t seem to begin.”
3 Catch the Wind Donovan
Though often compared to Bob Dylan, Scottish singersongwriter Donovan is more aligned with the positive messages of the flower power movement. He debuted with this sweet, love song in 1965, capturing the hearts of many with its harmonica solo.
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The Wind
Cat Stevens While fairly short in length, “The Wind” offers a memorable and catchy track that begs you to sing along to the chorus of “never’s” that decorate it.
5 Brother
Lord Huron Found on their 2012 debut album, Lonesome Dreams, this snappy tune with its soft melody is perfect with the windows rolled down and the volume turned up.
appearance on our list with one of their most popular songs. Its lyrics take you on a melodious journey through natural landscapes, beginning with “Oh, there’s a river that winds on forever.”
8 Wandering
James Taylor Taylor’s 1975 cover of Eddy Arnold’s 1967 song, “Wanderin’”, adds his sweet voice and a few changes to the gentle track, guiding roadies “From New York City/ To the Golden Gate.”
9 Long May You Run Neil Young
Championing lyrics like, “Rollin’ down/ That empty ocean road/ Gettin’ to the surf on time,” this soft rock song from 1976 is a must-listen for any trip when looking to relax and soak in the moment.
10 Empty Sky
Bruce Springsteen Celebrated singer Bruce Springsteen makes our list with
7 Ends of the Earth Lord Huron
Indie folk band Lord Huron makes a second
Land of Dreams Langhorne Slim and the Law
One of the more modern songs on our playlist, the neo-folk sound of this 2009 track, coupled with the twang of the banjo, makes for a unique tune that is well worth playing on repeat.
Hey Stranger
Mandolin Orange
Carefree Highway This mournful love song from 1974 tells the story of getting over a hard break up through travel, tugging at our heartstrings with lyrics like, “Carefree highway/ Let me slip away, slip away on you.” The track was the second release from the album Sundown. It peaked at number 10 on the Billboard Hot 100 and spent one week at number 1 on the Easy Listening chart.
11
12
6 Gordon Lightfoot
this melancholy, classic rock song that fits perfectly with the open skies of the southwest when driving through the desert towns that dot Route 66.
13 TRACKS for Your next
ROAD
TRIP
Pulling into a neon-lit motel for the night and ending the evening with Mandolin Orange’s, “Hey Stranger”, a quiet tune exuding warmth, is just what the road trip doctor ordered.
13 Bulletproof Picasso Train
A road trip is a quintessential American experience that deserves a rocking soundtrack to match. So, gas up the vehicle, roll down the windows, and press play on this collection of �3 perfect songs selected for your next trip on the open highway.
The energy in this fun, upbeat song by popular rock band Train is palpable the moment you turn it on, guaranteed to add some pep to your trip. And the video was shot on California’s Route 66!
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“DUDE MAN”
M
uffler Men, fiberglass “Giant Men” manufactured in the 1960s-70s in Venice, California, have become American roadside icons. Originally designed as advertising gimmicks for automobile businesses, they are now beloved attractions across the country, uniquely decorated and holding everything from a hot dog to a golf club in their outstretched arms. Several of these loveable giants are wellknown, such as the Gemini Giant in Wilmington, Illinois, the Paul Bunyon Giant in little Atlanta, Illinois, and the Lauterbach Tire Man in Springfield, Illinois, but one of these tall gents has not yet been given the attention that he deserves. Let us introduce you to Gallup, New Mexico’s largest resident, the “Dude Man.” Surveying downtown Gallup from his lofty perch, the big cowboy known as the Dude Man stands atop the tidy building of John’s Used Cars. Wearing a western hat and a holstered six-shooter, his classic square-jawed, broadshouldered demeanor comes straight out of old Hollywood westerns. But the taciturn gentleman seems to wear a tinge of disappointment on his face as he stares intently at his empty palms. “He held a rifle in his hands—someone told me he had a rifle up there—but I’ve never seen it,” said John DeArmond, the previous owner of the used car dealership. Rifle or not, Dude Man fits right into this iconic western town, known worldwide as the heart of Indian country. Hat, boots, and turquoise jewelry are de rigeur in Gallup, and its historic downtown nestles just south of Route 66, BNSF Railway, and I-40 all running parallel east-west. The McKinley County Courthouse Plaza anchors the downtown, surrounded by blocks of Mexican eateries and western trading companies that deal in native arts. “It’s the Indian capital of the world,” DeArmond said. “[And] Richardson’s Trading Post down the street has the best Indian jewelry.” And at John DeArmond’s used car lot on West Coal Street, Dude Man has the best view in town of the city center with its mix of Pueblo Revival and commercial architecture and equally varied blend of tourists and locals. DeArmond himself is a Gallup native, although he’s now retired and living in Arizona. Leaving school after seventh grade to join the working world, he was a self-made businessman by the 1970s with a business partner and a used car lot. “We financed used cars there,” he explained. “They’d come in with bad credit or no credit [and] we financed them.” Business was good, and within a couple of years, DeArmond would acquire his “biggest” promotional investment. 62 ROUTE Magazine
OF GALLUP
“The Dodge dealership [in Gallup] went out of business, and I had a partner, and we both bought the big man at the auction. That Dodge dealership was only ten blocks away and I had to pay a company to take him apart... in three pieces. They hauled him on a flatbed trailer and then they put him back together,” DeArmond explained. “That [$7,000] price didn’t bother me because it’s been good for advertising, and it’s just been an eyecatcher. All my customers, most of them are now Hopi off the reservation, they love it to death.” In the half-century that he’s owned him, DeArmond has only had to have the big man repainted twice. Each time, it cost about twenty-five hundred dollars. “He had to be painted while he was on the ground, and I went back to the original colors of red, white, and blue. But there is a bullet hole right in his head. Someone shot him with a .22 [caliber], but that bullet hole happened years and years ago. I just left it alone. It’s not very big.” Locally, in a nod to DeArmond’s business reputation, the giant has been known as “Honest John” ever since he lost his “Dodge Man” moniker back in the 1970s. But when a 2013 Roadside America blurb referred to him as the Dude Man, that’s how travelers too came to know him. Whatever you call him, he’s a popular guy. “People come from all over, asking questions and wanting to know more about him. They get out of their cars and take pictures. We have a population [in Gallup] of 20,000 during the week, but on the weekend we’re at 100,000 because all the Indians come off the reservation to trade.” Keeping the business in his family, DeArmond sold it to his children in the early 2000s, but sadly his son has passed away. “My daughter kept the business and she’s kept it going. She’s done a real good job with it,” he said. “Evonne likes [the statue] there because it draws a lot of traffic. He’s going to stay right there. I had an offer one time, around ten thousand dollars, and I said, ‘It’s not for sale.’ I’m just kind of sentimental about him after all these years.” Standing sentinel over Gallup’s distinctly western-flavored downtown, the Dude Man does what all good Giant Men do best—lend a protective air to their surroundings and hold still for photos. Undeniably a highly visual reminder of a bygone era, this giant has comfortably found his way into the 21st Century with a smile, if only in his heart. After all, we all know that cowboys seldom show their real feelings.
Image by John Smith.
THE
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ROUTE Magazine 67
I
t was an Iowa blizzard like nothing Ramona Lehman had ever seen. A bright clear morning had turned into a snowy chaos, and that January day in 1971 would foretell the future of not only Ramona’s family, but a historic Route 66 motel in Lebanon, Missouri, also. “My husband Bob was out with a salesman that day, and he got stranded in the blizzard,” said 82-year-old Ramona. “He hit another car without even seeing it, because of the snow. Then his truck got hit, but no one was hurt.” Ramona’s husband, along with 30 other stranded motorists, ended up taking shelter at a nearby farmhouse. “The next day, he walked in the door and said, ‘That’s it. We’re moving south where it’s warmer.’ That’s how we ended up owning the Munger Moss Motel in Lebanon.” Tucked along Missouri’s historic Route 66 in Lebanon, the historic Munger Moss Motel has been an iconic stop for travelers for more than six decades. The opening of the new Interstate 44 in this area in 1957 may have spelled doom for the quaint motel and its giant neon sign, but optimism and a bit of cheeky pluck kept it alive. But much like the Lehmans, who have owned the Munger Moss Motel since 1971, the motel didn’t originate in Lebanon. Like the Lehmans, its origins began elsewhere. One started with sandwiches; the other with a freak blizzard. Chance meetings, faith in the future, and a continued passion for Route 66 brought the two together.
Munger Moss Motel The legendary Route 66 motel started with sandwiches. In 1936, Nellie Munger and her husband Emmitt Moss opened a sandwich shop in Devil’s Elbow, Missouri. The Munger Moss Sandwich Shop was known for its barbecue, and as travelers crisscrossed the country on Route 66, it was a favorite place to stop and grab lunch. The sandwich shop enjoyed success during the glory days of The Mother Road, but in 1942, Route 66 was relocated out of Devil’s Elbow. World War II was in full swing, and the road was moved in order to ease the heavy military machinery and traffic that poured into nearby Fort Leonard Wood. Around the same time, a couple named Pete and Jessie Hudson owned a saloon in St. Louis. They sold their saloon and bought the Munger Moss Sandwich shop just before the road was moved. “As soon as they had settled in, the Missouri Highway Department started construction on the ‘Hooker Cutoff,’ a new four-lane divided highway that would bypass Devil’s Elbow, leaving Pete and Jessie stranded down the river,” said Jim Thole, Vice President of the Route 66 Association of Missouri. “They sold the sandwich shop, kept the name ‘Munger Moss,’ and moved to Lebanon. On September 12, 1945, they purchased the Chicken Shanty Café and an adjacent lot, renamed it the Munger Moss Barbecue Restaurant, and 68 ROUTE Magazine
then set about building ‘the first real motel in Lebanon.’” In 1946, the Munger Moss Motor Court opened, and legend has it that some of the lumber used came from the black market, thanks to war rationing. However, the motel was a hit along the new Route 66. The original motel boasted of seven stucco cottages that had garages in between rooms. Built in the model of the Americana bungalow courts, the motel had room for a garden and seating. The Munger Moss Motor Court was built along a semi-circular drive. Each room had a small gable and a small neon sign displaying the room number. According to Thole, Pete knew that he needed to catch people’s attention. In the 1940s, neon was a way to do just that. A giant neon sign attracted attention from passing motorists, but also created a controversy and a mystery that lasts to this day. The sign is incredibly neon, with seven colors and a flashy “moving” arrow that included different fonts and scripts. It also resembles the vintage Holiday Inn hotel chain sign. The enduring mystery is the question of which design came first—Munger Moss or Holiday Inn. “That’s actually a crazy story,” Thole said. “The latest theory I’ve heard is that the man who designed the sign had a friend who owned The Rest Haven Motel in Springfield, Missouri. He was a man named Hillary Brightwell, and he had the original sign. Legend says that one of the representatives from the new Holiday Inn chain asked if he could copy the sign, and Hillary gave him permission to use it for free. “It’s also said that Pete Hudson and Hillary were good friends, so he gave Pete permission to use the design too.” Despite the similarities in signs, the Munger Moss Motor Court (and then Munger Moss Motel) thrived. Four more cottages of eight units were added in 1947. In the early 1950s, the motel added 25 additional rooms, and in 1961, another 25 rooms were added for a total of 71 units. The original garages were converted into rooms, which filled in the gaps. However, changing the room numbers wasn’t as easy. The original rooms had neon numbers installed on the doors. The new converted rooms needed numbers too. “This motel is such a microcosm of how motels of this era developed. Usually, rooms have little plaques on the doors, but the Munger Moss had the numbers in neon,” said Thole. “So, all the rooms in between that were converted were called ½. So, you had room 1, then 1 ½, then room 2, then room 2 ½, etc. That was unique.”
Bob and Ramona Lehman.
New Highway, New Owners Business was booming for the Munger Moss Motel and the Hudsons, but when Interstate 44 opened in 1957, the popular motel was bypassed. While the business loop remained in Lebanon, the Missouri Highway Department hadn’t connected the new highway to the exit where the Munger Moss Motel was located. “Pete was a clever guy. He went and put a makeshift exit on the highway,” Thole said. “It’s hard to believe that could happen, but he put wooden planks down across the ditch so people could exit and get to the motel. He even added a big wooden sign. It’s hard to imagine getting away with something like that these days.” The trick worked. Travelers still flocked to the motel in droves, especially after Pete raised the giant neon sign onto 10-foot poles. “That’s just amazing to think about,” said Thole. “The Munger Moss Motel also had the first swimming pool in
Lebanon, which was installed in the late 1950s. Pete was quite the guy.” By the 1970s, however, the Hudsons knew it was time to sell the historic motel and retire.
Fresh Vision and a New Start Ramona and Bob Lehman bought the Munger Moss Motel in 1971, and in 2021, will have run the Route 66 landmark for 50 years. As much a part of the Lebanon community as the building itself, the couple never intended to move to Missouri, but they never regretted it either. “It’s been fun. Yes, we worked our butts off, but it’s been fun,” said Ramona. And none of it may have happened if it wasn’t for that blizzard. Ramona was born in 1938 to Ken and Loretta Hopperworth in Sumner, Iowa. The family lived on an 80-acre farm where Ramona and her three siblings learned how to live independently off the land. They collected eggs, fed chickens ROUTE Magazine 69
The Munger Moss once had a swimming pool. Image courtesy of Edward Keating.
and helped grow food in the garden. And, like many families in the late 1930s, the Hopperworth family wasn’t rich by any stretch of the imagination. But they were happy. “We always had food because of our gardens, and we had lots of aunts and uncles and cousins, because both my parents came from big families,” Ramona said. “We would have big parties for birthdays, and we had a good, religious upbringing. We always knew we were loved.” Ramona was a plucky girl with a big imagination. She made mud pies by mixing eggs from the chicken house with mud and walked to school every day with her siblings. “We got electricity when the war broke out, but at times there were blackouts during the war, because no one knew how far the enemy planes would come in,” she said. “Everything was rationed. I remember we had a Christmas tree, but no lights, just these clips with candles on it. You could only light the tree for a few minutes. I can’t remember being poor; in my family, you just knew you were loved.” After graduating high school, Ramona attended Wartburg College for a year on scholarship, where she played baritone in the band. When her best friend got married in 1957, Ramona’s life changed forever. She met Bob Lehman. “My best friend married his best friend, and that’s how we met. I remember when I first saw him. I just thought, ‘Wow.’ He had nice wavy black hair, and we went on a double date with my friend and her man. I went home and told my mother that Bob was the man I was going to marry.” Bob apparently agreed. Two weeks later, he put a diamond engagement ring on her finger. 70 ROUTE Magazine
“We married on November 15, 1957, and we were married for 51 years,” Ramona said. “He grew up in Alpha, Iowa, and he hauled feed, drove a cattle truck and farmed with his father.” Like every married couple, the newlyweds had big dreams of owning their own business. The couple had four children before Ramona went back to school to earn her degree as a licensed practical nurse in 1968. “I had two sons and two daughters,” she said. “I worked in hospitals and doctors’ offices after I got my LPN and my kids were in school. My biggest pride was when I had to give a baby a shot and the baby didn’t cry.” Then, on the first day of 1971, the blizzard came. The next day, Bob and Ramona started looking for businesses to buy somewhere down south. “We looked in Springfield, Missouri, and we looked at three places, but Bob thought the realtor was a real shyster,” she said. “So, on our way back home, we stopped in Lebanon to get gas. A local realtor was gassing up too, and he and Bob got to talking. Next thing you know, Pete Hudson is showing us around his motel.” By the first of June that year, the Lehmans were a part of Lebanon and the Munger Moss Motel “lock, stock, and barrel.” “We had two nice people here—the Hudsons—who helped us. Bob and I had never owned a motel, but Jessie was here, and I learned from her by helping to clean rooms and following her around. Then we just started meeting people.” The new Interstate 44 had already been built, and the bypass that ran through Lebanon wasn’t called Route 66 anymore. By the mid-1980s, the state took all of the old Route 66 signs down.
“Oh, people were upset by that,” Ramona said. “That’s when all the preservation efforts started. As for the motel, all we did was preserve what had already been done. We kept it just like it was, and only took out what needed to be removed.”
He wasn’t wrong. On Saturday, November 6, 2010, the Munger Moss Motel neon sign was officially re-lit. “Let there be light” was the rallying cry at 6:26 pm, and the newly restored sign glowed once again in six neon colors, complete with the yellow chaser bulbs in the giant arrow that “moved.” “The sign just sparkles,” said Ramona during the relighting A New Life for an Old Sign ceremony. “It was a dream to get it back to what it looked For years, Ramona and Bob welcomed travelers from all over like originally, but I think we surpassed that.” the world to their motel. Travelers came from as far as Russia, John Murphey of the National Park Service Route 66 Corridor Sweden, Australia, and Brazil. When the Route 66 Association Preservation Program was also present during the relighting. of Missouri was formed in 1990, even more visitors came as He presented Bob and Ramona with a plaque to honor their the Mother Road shone back into the spotlight. commitment to the preservation of this Route 66 icon. “Jim Powell formed our association and worked with the “The Munger Moss Motel sign restoration is important state legislature to declare Route 66 as a historic highway,” not only because it refurbished a remarkable sign, but also Ramona said. “As long as I can remember, we had people because it is attached to one of the Road’s true icons. Signs from all over come here. A guest from Sweden showed such as these are not just calling cards for Route 66, they are me a magazine and my sign was on the cover of it. This local landmarks and symbols of pride,” Murphey said during year (2020) is the first year we haven’t had any European the relighting. visitors.” “The silver-shield plaque is a symbol of the success of your As with any historic business, maintenance of the facilities effort to preserve an irreplaceable piece of Route 66.” and especially the giant, The grant also vintage neon sign was a refurbished the motel’s challenge. The sign itself “Office” sign. was a complicated feat of “Well, unfortunately, the engineering that boasted sign is showing some wear seven unique colors and again,” said Thole. “It’s been multiple transformers, 10 years since the restoration. tubing, and internal That sign is [very] important electronics. to the community, and To help save America’s the neon signs of Route neon history, the Route 66 66 are basically a form of Association of Missouri customized folk art. That formed the Neon Heritage sign at the motel is like a Preservation Committee to member of the community. restore existing neon signs It’s also the second most still in place and to save photographed motel sign on orphaned signs in a neon Route 66.” sign park. To this day, the Munger In 2008, the committee Moss Motel continues encouraged Ramona to to attract visitors, and Ramona watching Route 66 out front. apply for a grant to repair Ramona has no plans to the popular Munger Moss slow down. Motel neon sign. “When we were in our 60s about 20-some odd years “Ramona was elated about getting a grant and fixing up ago, Bob said we should put the motel on the market,” the sign,” said Thole. “We started the process in 2008, and said Ramona. “We called the realtor and had a few people it was the third project candidate for the Neon Heritage interested. Then Bob looked at me and said, ‘What the Sam Preservation Committee at the time. We got the grant, and Hill are we going to do if we don’t have the motel?’ That was the Munger Moss Motel sign was the largest one, and the the end of that idea.” most difficult one we did.” Celebrating 50 years of owning the Munger Moss Motel At 32 feet tall and 19 feet wide at its widest point, the in 2021, Ramona said she still has no plans to sell or retire. sign was too big to be moved, so all the repairs had to be Bob passed away in February 2019 at the age of 82, and done onsite. Ramona’s daughters have their own careers. Her two sons “It’s huge. You couldn’t move [it] at all,” Thole said. “It also have sadly passed away as well, and these days, Ramona had 15 transformers in it. What we find with all the signs is finds delight in spending time with her grandchildren and that there are a lot of quick fixes and shortcuts that have to great-grandchildren. be taken out. It’s a real clean-up job.” “I think the city should throw a party for me,” Ramona As part of the grant, Thole wrote that the completely laughed, about the upcoming anniversary. “People thought revived condition of the historic, vintage neon sign at Munger I would sell after Bob died, but this motel is the only iconic Moss would “add substantially to the nostalgic appeal of thing left in town. I’m proud of what Bob and I did here, and the Route 66 roadway, returning the ‘calling card’ for this I’m proud of my family. I’m 82. Sometimes I ask, ‘God, what iconic establishment to its original appearance that would be do you have left for me?’ I just take it as it comes.” reminiscent of the peak years of The Mother Road.” ROUTE Magazine 71
ABOUT THE PHOTOGRAPH
April 23, 2016 This particular day the sun was shining down on the golden highway. My dad and I had been on 66 for a few days, sharing the wonders of what a road trip can do for a father-son relationship; telling stories and exploring the historic highway. Fresh green covered the landscape of the rolling hills of Missouri, and Spring was in the air. Earlier in the day, a rally had taken place in support of saving The Gasconade River Bridge. Route 66 enthusiasts from all over the world, as far as Japan, in fact, traveled in to, firstly display their desire to save this most important Route 66 gem, and secondly to celebrate a very momentous occasion; the Munger Moss Motel’s 70th anniversary, and the 45thanniversary celebration of Bob and Ramona Lehman’s taking over the motel. In attendance were Route 66 artists, writers, historians, proprietors, and roadies, all coming together to make merry on this most monumental occasion. Leading up to this day, Bob and Ramona had painstakingly worked 72 ROUTE Magazine
with the help of Springfield Neon to perfectly revive the iconic Googie Munger Moss Motel sign. The sign was an absolute treasure to behold, emblazoned with brand new Edison bulbs on the arrow, a freshly reworked marque, which displayed the 70-year celebration, and beautifully restored neon tubes. As the sun was sinking low and the sign was starting to glow, several of us in attendance were discussing how to capture the unique moment in time. I was elected to orchestrate the scene. We asked historian Joe Sonderman to angle his beautiful 1957 Chevy Bel Aire in front of the sign. I lined it all up, made several exposures, then stepped aside. Following this documentation, we celebrated well into the night, telling stories of travel and sharing laughter under the brilliant glow of a vibrant neon sign that represents the passion and love of so many Mother Road travelers. —David J. Schwartz
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GHOSTS 74 ROUTE Magazine
OF JERICHO By Nick Gerlich Photographs by Efren Lopez/Route66Images ROUTE Magazine 75
R
oute 66 is famous for its near abandoned communities, once vibrant and alive, now dwindled down to a handful of committed residents who have thrown their lot in with it. Less common are actual ghost towns, perhaps the most famous being Glenrio on the New Mexico border. But there is another Texas treasure that far fewer travelers know about. Nestled in the eastern half of the Texas Panhandle, a tiny forsaken spot rests in the shadow of modernity, its echoes of the past only interrupted by the roar of the invisible but ever-present busy Interstate. It’s where the short grasses of the west start to blend into the tall grasses of the east, where the wind blows incessantly, where summer storms erupt with fierce aggression on anyone in their path, and if you are real quiet, you can almost hear the voices of generations past as they carved out a hardscrabble existence. Those who plied that old dirt road heading hither and yon provided the harmony. It’s called Jericho, a name that conjures up images of weary travelers heading West in fragile vehicles, seeking a better life. That was now 90 years ago. The only thing different today is a middle-aged Amarillo couple who has arrived on the scene to breathe new life into this little speck on the map. A pair of saviors committed to taking the ghost out of the town. Blair and Blanca Schaffer, owners of Polk Street Nutrition and Firehouse Fitness gym, in Amarillo, purchased the townsite a year ago and have plans to turn their 72 acres into a small working farm and tourist destination all in one. Their labor of love aims to bring new life into Jericho and re-establish it once more as a stopover on Route 66.
Here’s Mud In Your Eye Everything’s bigger in Texas, or so it has been said, and the same goes for its legends. Jericho is no exception, a town that was settled first in the late-1880s as a stage stop between Saint’s Roost (now known as Clarendon) and Fort Elliott (now Mobeetie). It sits at the western end of a lateral ridge extending across much of the eastern Panhandle, and thus provided respite for horses and riders alike having traversed rough terrain both north and south. A malaria outbreak occurred in 1894 as more settlers arrived. The nearby cemetery tells that grim story; the cause was later linked to stagnated water at the nearby spring. Still, homesteaders saw promise in farming and ranching the flat expanse, and they continued to arrive, even more so after Jericho welcomed the Choctaw, Oklahoma, and Texas Railroad in 1902. It was then that Jericho was officially established as a town. The early homesteaders were a rugged breed, extracting whatever was possible that occurred naturally. “This area was populated by opportunists. In many ways, we’ve been mining Opening spread: Blair and Blanca Schaffer in Jericho. 76 ROUTE Magazine
out here for years,” said local historian Wes Reeves. “We came out here for cattle, and the Indians before us for buffalo. It’s not the most hospitable place.” A few decades later, during the early years of the Route 66 era, which was overlaid atop an earlier postal route connecting Amarillo with Oklahoma City, the so-called Jericho Gap instilled fear into the hearts of motorists because this short section of highway was not paved. It didn’t take long for Jericho and its namesake stretch of earthen road to become renowned for its sticky, impossible-to-navigate mud. Summer storms turned the red clay road into a quagmire; this being long before Texas civil engineers learned to cap their dirt roads with a layer of the abundant white-clay Caliche found a few feet beneath the soil surface. As the story goes, local farmers would supplement their income by pulling stranded motorists from the gooey muck. The legend gets even better because those same farmers are reported to have hauled tanks of water out to the road by night, dumped them, then waited for people to get stuck the next day before the scorching sun could dry it out. High Plains entrepreneurship was in high gear, but it didn’t last for long, because Route 66 was re-routed a half-mile north in the mid-1930s as well as paved, bringing to an end what some
The town has been deserted for some time. Image courtesy of John Smith.
saw as literal highway robbery. Soon the population began to dwindle to only a few dozen, and to this day the legend is larger than life, even if unverified.
Into the Garden Blair and Blanca Schaffers noticed that the Jericho property was posted for sale early in January 2020, but the couple took little notice. Life was already busy, and their business was bustling. Amarillo, Texas, is a vibrant town and 2020 looked like a year with enormous potential. This was to change. Within a month the Covid-19 pandemic struck, and its impact was immediate. Blair and Blanca remembered the opportunity in Jericho. It would offer an escape from city living, “We saw and read this was for sale. It was priced right, and we put in a bid for it,” Blanca recalled. “Blair started recalling that he had family who lived there long ago,” but that was more coincidence than a driving factor. In the process of doing their due diligence on the property, they discovered that Blair’s great-great-great-grandfather Alexander Schaffer had homesteaded on the land in 1894, the same time that malaria was striking residents. Suddenly
the property took on a personal meaning, and they pursued it with all seriousness. They did not initially know any of the Route 66 significance, nor how their lives would be altered by a global crisis. That knowledge came later. “We never envisioned 72 acres and all the history from Route 66 and my family. It all just came together,” Blair said. In April 2020, the Schaffers decided to spend their spare time turning their Amarillo backyard into a garden, with plans to consume what they needed, and sell the rest at local farmers’ markets. They quickly learned the rigors of coaxing seeds and seedlings alike to take root in the hard West Texas soil, no small task in a place where most of the seasonal rain comes all at one time. Their raised beds produced a bountiful crop, and they began to realize what they could do with part of their land in Jericho. Blair, who is also an Amarillo fireman, and Blanca, who once spent 15 years in the hospitality industry, had just added “farmer” to their other entrepreneurial pursuits. During the winter of 2020, the Schaffers worked hard to prepare one acre in their newly purchased ghost town for their new commercial garden. It was many times larger than their tiny urban backyard. They partitioned it into 30 X 100foot sections and have turned the soil to prepare it for spring ROUTE Magazine 77
planting, all the while using an old RV as their home-awayfrom home when out on their new property. The couple has even been selling “shares” of the planned summer’s bounty, effectively launching a subscription vegetable service. If anything, the pandemic planted seeds of its own, seeds of hope, healthy eating, and new life for this former farming and ranching community, as if it were a voice from the past pointing toward the future. “Jericho was not on our map,” Blanca added. “We’ve been gifted something special. It’s our responsibility to share it.”
If These Walls Could Talk Those Route 66 travelers who do venture down County Road B, which was once part of the fabled Mother Road, likely do so only to see the old Ashmead farmhouse and the decaying remains of an old motor court and gas station on the north side whose name and detailed history has now been long forgotten. The former schoolhouse, which was on the south side, was demolished in recent years, leaving only a pile of rubble. It had closed by 1945. The dirt road running north-tosouth between the Ashmead house and the motor court was an early alignment of Texas Highway 70, and on the north end of the Schaffer’s property, where the road would have jogged, there are exposed brick pavers. The motor court was built around 1930 by the Reeves family, but by 1942, KC and Eula Reed were operating the small complex. In the intervening years, their Texaco gas
Blair and Blanca explore their new property. 78 ROUTE Magazine
station and small store had been added, with the Reeds living in a small manager’s apartment. Jericho’s Post Office was also packed into these crammed quarters; it closed in 1952 after the population had continued to dwindle. Only a handful of photos have survived to help tell the story. The Ashmead house, located across “dirt” highway 70, was also built around 1930, a tiny box-shaped structure with a hipped roof and two chimneys. Today, the roof is slowly collapsing, and the chimneys are falling one brick at a time. The last Ashmead moved away in 1974, their house never having had hot water or an indoor toilet. They had the undignified task of turning off the lights on Jericho. But there is much more to see on the Schaffers’ land beyond those two structures, evidence of a small yet thriving community more than a century ago. The howling wind is the one constant through all of this, a voice in itself reminding people that you have to be tough to make it out here. Today, the townsite basks in the juxtaposition of homesteader know-how and modern technology, yielding an almost spooky coexistence. Broken windmills that once drew water from the ground stand amid towering ghostly wind turbines that generate electricity for the region and downstate. The setting is surreal and rather creepy. “For the purist, it may be kind of jarring,” Reeves continued. “The turbines are just part of this progression of utilizing natural resources. That’s our culture here. We’re just taking advantage of something, making something out of nothing. Jericho did that for many years.”
Concrete footers show where the old Mercantile was located due north of the motor court, and the foundations of several houses are scattered about their land. On the northeast corner of the acreage is a farmhouse that had been inhabited until recently, along with several outbuildings and a rusting forsaken 1941 bus for the Jericho School. Remains of grain storage buildings still stand between their property and where the railroad once ran. Elsewhere on the property are where a lumberyard and baseball field were once located. Blair recalls his aunt telling the story of men gathering to The long dirt road past the motor court. Image courtesy of John Smith. play ball on Sunday evenings, and the rest of the townsfolk would gather to watch. It’s easy to conjure pastoral mental their own right. Still, they have hung on to the 21st Century, while Jericho continues to fade in the rearview mirror. People images of grown men gathering on the sandlot, the women didn’t go on a Sunday drive unless they were actually going and children cheering them on, and if the diamond was laid somewhere. out just right, anyone with half a swing being able to poke a wind-assisted home run clear out to where I-40 is today. It’s easy to imagine the voices of those early settlers calling Building the New Jericho Jericho home, to feel their hopes and dreams, all lost to the Once the garden sprouts from the ground, the Schaffers plan callus, unforgiving march of time. It is immediate, standing to develop a horse RV park on the southeast corner of their there on that quiet lonely dirt road, with the enormous property, and ultimately a modern tourist court for travelers. turbines cutting through the huge Texas sky, to picture They are also planning workdays with the Texas Old Route motorists passing through, some curious, most seeking a 66 Association to help haul out debris from the motor court better life out West. The modest size of all the buildings, save and farmhouse, as well as ensure that they are safe for visitors the Mercantile, speak of a simpler era when a 400-squareto explore. foot house or 150-square-foot motel room were more than “This was not on my radar, but all of this was meant adequate. to happen,” said Blanca as she explained the rest of their The elder Schaffer once ran that Mercantile, making their plans. They envision a warehouse in which visitors can see purchase all the more important to the pair, and several artifacts that the couple have discovered on the property generations were raised there, all neglected family history until and learn more about Route 66 in Texas. Finally, they want the Schaffers serendipitously stumbled upon the property. to build their retirement home there, coming full circle with They now see Jericho as a way of reconnecting with their Alexander Schaffer who resided in the ghost town more than ancestors. It is a living outdoor museum, one on which the 125 years ago. Schaffers find new artifacts every time they come out to work Looking back on how these pieces came together, Blanca the land. waxed philosophic, “We were out on our daily walk when I By 1930, Jericho boasted 100 residents. By today’s said, ‘What we have here we can either restore, or we can let standards, they would be lucky to warrant a convenience it go. We know people from all over love to come here. So, store, but back then, when shopping and dining expeditions what do we do?’ Blair didn’t waste a second with his reply: to surrounding towns was out of the question, Jericho had ‘Go for it!’” three stores, a garage owned by the Ashmeads, the gas station The Schaffers are quick to remember those who came operated by the Reeds, their motel, and two hotels, one of before them. “We want to honor the families who lived which was the Lyons. here and take care of the land we have been gifted,” Blair That’s a lot of commerce for such a tiny town, but the said respectfully, making something out of nothing like railroad was active at the time and carrying passengers. The generations before. The seeds and seedlings planted this Choctaw Line, which by then had long been subsumed under Spring are a mere metaphor. the Chicago, Rock Island, and Pacific Railway moniker, And that is exactly how the Schaffers, the most recent pair shuttled passengers between Tucumcari and Memphis. of settlers, see it. “We plan to move out here, to give it the love Automobile travel was also picking up as cars became more and attention it needs.” Jericho will be getting a facelift, a new affordable. lease on life, and just as it was 125 years ago, it will all be Groom to the west, and Alanreed and McLean to the east, based on humble stewardship of the land. may as well have been a world away, yet they never grew to Alexander Schaffer would likely approve. any great stature either, each teetering on ghost town status in ROUTE Magazine 79
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t first glance, bridges may seem commonplace, just practical components of modern civilization that help us get from point A to point B directly. It’s easy to accept bridges as simple continuations of the roads we travel each and every day, but underlying their ordinary presence are stories of history, culture, and art. Part of what makes Route 66 so enchanting is its capacity to preserve and showcase snapshots of American history. Oftentimes, more attention gets paid to the historical snapshots that surround the Mother Road (the kitschy shops, classic diners, and period piece gas stations) rather than those that come from the road itself. However, there is as much wonderment to be drawn from the historic highway’s physical elements as there is from the places that revolve around it. The wide array of bridges that dot throughout the nearly 2,500 miles of America’s Main Street serve as a testament to this striking physicality, offering some of the most captivating sights, stories, and spectacles on the historic highway. Of these countless bridges, perhaps none is more iconic or historic than the Rainbow Bridge of Cherokee County, Kansas. Constructed almost a century ago in 1923, this robust structure still rests seamlessly over the tranquil stream of Brush Creek, a quaint river that winds through a nature-laden section of the Sunflower State’s near-3-mile stretch of Route 66. The bridge earned its title due to the pair of massive, curved beams that arc over the length of the bridge much like, you guessed it, two concrete rainbows. These arches express one of the signature characteristics of the bridge’s “Marsh Arch” design. Named after the engineer James Marsh, who patented the design back in 1911, these picturesque bridges burst onto the scene during the 1920s—right when road travel was gaining popularity and creating a nationwide movement to provide Americans with a state-of-the-art roadway system. “The bridge was built during this [1920s] era, a time when there was a big push for improved roads, and it was just a few years prior to the advent of the numbered U.S. highway system,” explained Jim Ross, a historian and author who literally wrote the book on Route 66 bridges (Route 66 Crossings). “So, it was well part of that evolutionary time when things were really starting to happen with highways.” The Rainbow Bridge was one of many Marsh bridges constructed during this timeframe, but only one of three commissioned along the Mother Road. Oddly enough, all three of these bridges were built within five miles of each 80 ROUTE Magazine
other in Cherokee County, whose jurisdiction encompasses the entirety of Kansas’ tiny slice of America’s Main Street. However, the Rainbow Bridge’s kindred structures eventually fell prey to the unrelenting weight of time; the county decided to destroy the other Marsh bridges and replace them with larger, more commercial installations. It’s worth clarifying that the Rainbow Bridge’s persistence is due in large part to the efforts of Route 66 preservationists like Ross, who, alongside the Kansas Historic Route 66 Association, protested Cherokee County during the mid-‘90s to preserve this historic piece of Mother Road architecture. “[We] just really went to war with the Cherokee County Commission and prevailed; they eventually relented and agreed to leave [the bridge] in place as a monument,” recounted Ross. His drive to protect and commemorate the Rainbow Bridge stems from his understanding that its importance extends beyond its remarkable staying power. “[The bridge’s] legacy is not only its rarity and uniqueness as the lone survivor on Route 66, but its architectural beauty. It’s a really nice piece of architecture, and that’s what gives its value and significance. It’s a tangible testament to the era. It’s really an important landmark. I think everyone would agree with me when I [say] it’s the crown jewel of the Route in Kansas.” While the Rainbow Bridge’s continued existence represents a deep sense of validation for the surrounding Route 66 community, it also acts as a historical conduit—a lens to peer into a time before sprawling, monotonous interstates dominated the countryside; it embodies a time when designers portrayed structures like bridges as something more than a means of convenience. “Today, everything’s utilitarian, but that wasn’t the case back then; [bridges] were also seen as works of art; designs were only limited by an engineer’s or architect’s imagination. They took pride in building them—they didn’t just build something to get over a creek or river, they built something that would have some architectural significance,” emphasized Ross. The profoundness of Route 66 originates from a special feeling that you cannot find elsewhere in America. It is a feeling of true connection, something sincere and inspiring that has been obscured by the fast pace of modern life. The Rainbow Bridge is a shining illustration of how the Mother Road can help us reimagine our relationship with the places we see, the people we meet, and the roads we travel. Moreover, it is a piece of art that we can feel beneath our feet.
Image by John Smith.
L A ST OF I TS K I N D The Rainbow Bridge
WAYNESVILLE, MO
Today 12:38 PM
“Be back Monday. Got a new route planned.”
CLEAR YOUR SCHEDULE. GET TO PULASKI COUNTY, MO! Any time you make your way down Historic Route 66, you’ll come across places that are spectacularly quirky and one-of-a-kind. Our advice? Stop. Take it all in right here in the birthplace of the byway. Because when you do, you’ll experience gems like art galleries and other interesting places that make a road trip through Pulaski County like no other. Plan your trip at pulaskicountyusa.com. ROUTE Magazine 81
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any statues have risen and fallen along Route 66. Countless Muffler Men populated the U.S. during their boom in the ‘60s; many have been junked, many have survived, and new iterations have cropped up, such as Buck Atom in Tulsa, Oklahoma. But Tulsa has another man—the tallest free-standing statue in the U.S.—that has survived since the ‘60s and is set to live far into the foreseeable future. As the winner of Kimberly-Clark’s 2006 Cottonelle contest among nine other quirky roadside attractions, the Golden Driller has demonstrated that his presence knows few equals. Today’s Golden Driller is actually the third in a series. In 1953, Mid-Continent Supply Company of Fort Worth built the first Golden Driller—an angular, whimsical statue made of paper-mâché—to display at the International Petroleum Exposition (IPE), an annual conference for oil companies across the U.S. held in Tulsa, then known as the Oil Capital of the World. The first statue was such a hit that Mid-Continent Supply created a second statue in 1959 to replace it—this one a smaller, smoother version that climbed a rig at the Tulsa State Fairgrounds. This giant was also temporary, and for the 1966 IPE, Mid-Continent Supply brought back George S. Hondronastas, a Greek immigrant who designed the first statue, to design the third and final iteration. The Golden Driller—also known as “Giant Oil Man,” “Larry,” and “Golden Boy”—is a 75-foot-tall, 43,500-pound (21.75-U.S.-ton), monochromatic man of steel, plaster, and concrete. “His belt size is 48 feet in circumference, his shoe size is 393 DDD, and his [hard] hat size is 112,” explained Tulsa County Commissioner Karen Keith. The Driller’s right hand rests on an oil derrick that once served the fields of Seminole, Oklahoma, and his belt buckle once displayed “Mid-Continent” to signify his parent company, but once ownership was transferred to Tulsa County in 1979, the label was changed to “Tulsa”. “In ‘79, the IPE was permanently canceled,” said Rhys Martin, President of the Oklahoma Route 66 Association. “Around that time, a lot of oil company headquarters were migrating to Houston; there was a big oil crash at the time, so the IPE essentially dried up. That same year, Mid82 ROUTE Magazine
Continent basically abandoned the guy, and the [county] of Tulsa took ownership.” Tulsa County repaired the damage that the Golden Driller had accumulated over the years. Giving him a shirt to wear was considered, but after protests—including those of real oil workers who had worked the fields shirtless—the idea was scrapped. Since then, the Driller has only worn shirts as temporary decorations, as well as a few quirkier articles of clothing. “I’ve seen him with a kilt for our Scottish Festival, and, most famously, recently, they did some temporary modifications to him to make him look like Elon Musk to try to get Tesla to come to town. I know that the Fairgrounds can basically treat him as a billboard within reason, and that’s a good way for them to raise money for his maintenance and for the Fairgrounds as a whole,” said Martin. Apart from a couple emergency surgeries—part of the Driller’s back had to be replaced in 1970, and a hole had to be cut in his leg to rescue a trapped cat in 1976—the Golden Driller has remained stable, permanently installed in front of the Tulsa Expo Center. In 2011, his brass and copper dedication plaques were stolen, but fortunately, the thieves were caught when they tried to sell the plaques in pieces to a scrap metal company. That same year, the Driller received a fresh coat of mustard paint with a waterproof finish, and he’s hardly needed a touch-up since. “A funny story about him is that Fraispertuis City [amusement park] in France was opening an exhibit, and the Golden Driller was having its 50th anniversary, and they read about it online, so they created a ride in honor of the Golden Driller, and they built [a replica of him], and then they flew us over to be part of the dedication of it,” said Keith. The Golden Driller has been a tourist sensation ever since his installation, despite concerns about his appearance and representation of the oil industry in an age moving toward renewable energy. There is more to love about the Driller than what he was built for—perseverance and hard work, vision and daring, the history of energy and of Tulsa—these values and more embody the Oklahoma state monument. With his worldwide appeal and the girth to withstand 200mile winds, the Golden Driller is clearly here to stay.
Image by David J. Schwartz – Pics On Route 66.
T U LSA’ S G OL DE N DR I L L E R
SO MUCH TO SEE IN OKC Occupying the historic Ford Motor Company assembly plant, 21c Oklahoma City is a multi-venue contemporary art museum and boutique hotel. The perfect Mother Road destination for the curious traveler. Best hotel in the Midwest – Condé Nast Traveler Readers Choice Awards 2019
#thisis21c 21cOklahomaCity.com Matthew Geller, Woozy Blossom (Platanus nebulosus), 2010-2015. Steel, water, copper, pump.
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Remnants of the Past When a road stretches as far back into America’s past as Route 66, it’s inevitable that some of its iconic places and people become lost to time. A faded sign or ramshackle building may be all that stands between a fond memory and the vacuum of history. But on the outskirts of the charming little town of Tucumcari, New Mexico, one such treasure rises out of the earth; a rusted neon sign sits atop the prongs of a metal cactus. The striking sign, once painted cheery greens and reds, declares in faded lettering: Ranch House Cafe—Mexican Food. An old blue Chevy truck, its bed crafted into a whimsical shed-like structure with ornate scrap metal and weathered wood, has found its final resting place at the base of the sign. The decaying truck glints in the desert sun like a ghost of the automobiles that once happily crowded into the parking lot. Fortunately, while many things are lost on America’s Main Street, woven in mystery by the passage of time, few are truly forgotten, thanks to the passion and dedication of individuals up and down the old highway. Tucumcari is home to many such saviors. Looking at Tucumcari today, it’s a quiet town on the High Plains of eastern New Mexico and occupied by some 5,000 people. There are several iconic motels such as the Roadrunner, Blue Swallow, and Safari, and even though the town has lost a great deal over the years, the bones of the old road are still plentiful, attracting visitors from across America and the world. And the Ranch House Cafe sign, equal parts beautiful and dilapidated, standing in front of the eatery’s empty ‘50s-modern structure, pulls people in perhaps more than any other. “It’s my absolute favorite building in town,” said Connie Loveland, Director of Tucumcari MainStreet. “At some point, I’m sure [the sign] had neon on it, I’m guessing where it says, ‘Mexican Food.’ Some of the older people here in town I’ve visited with said that they originally didn’t serve Mexican food. It was more of a sandwiches and burgers kind of cafe, breakfast and lunch. I talked to an older gentleman here in town and he was telling me that their slogan, when they opened out on Route 66, was, ‘Good food always, always good food.’” In the 1940s, Tucumcari was the largest stop between Amarillo, Texas, and Albuquerque, New Mexico, on old Route 66. Desert stretched out hot and harsh in either 84 ROUTE Magazine
direction, but Tucumcari was a magic oasis swimming in neon light. And it was in this oasis that Pearl and Dugan “Duge” Barnett built the original Ranch House Cafe in 1952, right along the Mother Road. The Ranch House was one of the first roadside cafes to offer drive-up-style curb service. Visitors lured off Route 66 by the blinking neon sign could enjoy the greasy, all-American fare from the comfort of their cars. And via the railroad, people poured into the train station downtown and made a beeline for the stylish little diner. Tucumcari residents who were children during the busy years remember it as a local staple. Travelers on the Mother Road frequented the mom-andpop shop until the early 1980s, when the Interstate bypassed Tucumcari and tourism trickled to a near-halt. By then, owners Duge and Pearl Barnett had both passed away and the eatery was shut. Since that time, the Ranch House Cafe has remained vacant, with the exception of one mysterious resident on the parking lot that has fascinated many photographers: the abandoned Chevy truck with its intriguing piecemeal house on the back. “The truck was built and owned by a guy named Walter Carlton,” said Loveland. “I don’t know how he ended up in town, but he did artwork and built furniture and different things for people to make money. He used to live in that truck. In 2010, he fell on hard times, so he sold it to Ruth Daniels, who owned a Route 66 curio shop across the street called Things. She had it parked outside in front of her business as a kitschy attraction.” Things were torn down in 2014 to make room for a parking lot for Mesalands Community College, but Daniels kept the truck. The following year, she bought the land on which the Ranch House Cafe sign stood and parked the eye-catching Chevy right underneath it. The restaurant stands empty as it has since the 1980s, but the building, truck, and sign remain, thanks to Daniels. At sunset, the light glints off the metal and glass of the truck and glows on the rusted signposts to create a haunting, beautiful sight. In preserving the property, Daniels inadvertently created a love letter to a time gone by, a striking image at the intersection of the past and the town’s present.
Image by David J. Schwartz – Pics On Route 66.
R A NC H HOUSE C A F E
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Let’s Hit the Road! The Heart of Historic Route 66 VisitAmarillo.com
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PARTING SHOT
John MOORE
Most famous or noteworthy person you have ever met? President Harry S. Truman. What characteristic do you respect the most in others? Integrity. Dislike in others? Dishonesty. Talent that you WISH you had? Better public speaker. Best part about getting older? The older you get the wiser you get. What is the weirdest roadside attraction in Arizona? Bearizona. Other than Arizona, what is the best state on Route 66? Missouri. What makes Williams, Arizona, so special to Route 66 enthusiasts? The town is authentically like it was in its hayday. What do you consider your greatest achievement as Mayor of Williams? My ability to keep things moving forward. Most memorable hotel/motel that you have stayed at in Arizona? Wigwam in Holbrook. Last book you’ve read? Out Where the West Begins by Philip Anschutz. Where is still on your bucket list to visit? Ireland. What movie title best describes your life? Wyatt Earp. Strangest stop on Arizona’s stretch of Route 66? Snowcap in Seligman.
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What would your spirit animal be? Bear. Which historical figure—alive or dead—would you most like to meet? Wyatt Earp. If you won the lottery, what is the first item you would buy? Cheeseburger. Unique attributes of Arizona’s stretch Route 66? Route 66, the Mother Road itself. What food item can you not live without? Cheeseburger. Bizarre talent that you have that most people don’t know about? Clairvoyant. Most unknown (but shouldn’t be) stop in Williams? Our Visitor Center. Favorite ghost town in Arizona? Ash Fork, Arizona. What do you think is the most important life lesson for someone to learn? Honesty and integrity. What do you want to be remembered for? Being a good person. Best natural attraction in Arizona? Grand Canyon. Best fine-dining in Williams? Miss Kitty’s Steakhouse. Favorite music artist or group? Johnny Cash. Best craft beer in Williams? Grand Canyon Brewery. Williams is most famous for? Route 66.
Illustration: Jennifer Mallon.
Undeniably one of the quirkiest towns on Route 66, Williams has managed to rise above an enviable list of cool destinations along the Mother Road. The tourist haven– nestled in the picture-perfect pine country of northern Arizona–is home to classic neon, a wide variety of well stocked gift shops, a hair-raising zipline, and some of the best dining on the road in the Copper State. History buffs have six amazing blocks to explore that are packed with history, including an old brothel. Williams prides itself as being the gateway to the Grand Canyon and has managed to establish itself as a bucket list stop along America’s Highway. At the forefront of Williams is a man whose vision has helped the town to flourish and continually draw visitors in from around the world. In this issue, we want to introduce you to Mayor John Moore.
With more than 300 days of sunshine a year – and a unique mix of tranquil waters, rugged mountains, and tons of fun – it’s hard to stay inside. Discover Lake Havasu City – just a short drive from Route 66 – and play like you mean it.®
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