ROUTE - August / September 2021

ROUTE THE MAGAZINE THAT CELEBRATES ROAD TRAVEL, VINTAGE AMERICANA AND ROUTE 66

Magazine

THE AMERICANA ISSUE August/September 2021 $5.99

Come See Us in

Springfield…

We’ll Show You Around!

When you visit Springfield, Missouri, ask a local! We know where to reminisce.

Whether it’s cruising down historic Route 66 or getting your kicks at the History Museum on the Square, we love our city and know the best places to eat, drink and play. See you in Springfield!

Experience a classic car parade down Route 66, concerts, booths, great food and other fun during the Birthplace of Route 66 Festival, August 13-14, 2021.

Find out more at

ii ROUTE Magazine

SpringfieldMo.org

(On Old Route 66 in Downtown Springfield) Open Mon. - Fri., 8:30am - 4:30pm

© 2021 02 IlIllin llin nois o De Depar pa arrtm a tme m nt of me o Com C mm mer me errce e ce a and nd Ec nd Econo ono on omi mic m ic cO Op ppo po orrtu tun u it ity ty, Offi ffic ce e off To Tou T ou uri rris iism m,, TT TTY T TY: 1 -8 T -80000-785 0078 -60 785 -6055 55 5

When you’re in Illinois, you’re in the middle of unforgettable road trips.

From throwback drive-ins and diners to unexpected landmarks like the Gemini Giant, take a nostalgic journey down 300 miles of America’s most iconic highway. enjoyillinois.com

ROUTE Magazine 1

Cyrus Avery Centennial Plaza The best road trips are all about pit stops … and this Tulsa landmark is worth braking for!

Stroll around the park and Route 66 Skywalk.

Then, marvel at a bronze statue that explores the evolution of transportation — from carriage to car.

Want more iconic itineraries? Veer over to Travel We’ll steer you in the right direction!

Before your trip, order a free Route 66 Guide & Passport at TravelOK.com.

Collect all 66 stamps as you go!

2 ROUTE Magazine

.com.

Rock Café

This legendary Stroud diner’s delicious food and historic rock building draw locals and rock stars — like Led Zeppelin’s Robert Plant!

Round Barn

Built in 1898, Arcadia’s beloved barn is listed in the National Register of Historic Places. Catch a concert or tour farm exhibits.

Oklahoma Route 66 Museum

Want to take a multisensory trip through Americana culture? Visit this Clinton museum, home to the world’s largest curio cabinet.

ROUTE Magazine 3

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

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

PROMOTION

FOLLOW US NOW

EAD.COM

www.routemagazine.us

CONNECT WITH DESTINATION MAGAZINE

CONNECT WITH

ROUTE 6 ROUTE Magazine

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

Classic Brontosaurus at Grand Canyon Caverns, Peach Springs, Arizona.

Photograph by David J. Schwartz – Pics On Route 66.

22 Roadside Attraction

By Nick Gerlich What was initially supposed to be a unique art project that printed images of Cadillacs on seed packets turned into an even more bizarre idea of taking ten old Cadillacs and burying them nose first near Route 66 in Amarillo, Texas. Discover how the iconic art installation of Cadillac Ranch was born and how it became an interactive art piece that tourists continue to visit and decorate in a rainbow of spray paint.

28 The King of Commerce

By Jimmy Pack Jr. Nestled in the small, Route 66 town of Commerce, Oklahoma, is a quintessential stop on any Mother Road journey: the Dairy King. This eatery first got its start as a Marathon Gas Station in 1927 and has passed through the hands of three families, each with their own unique, colorful stories, including one about a special pair of running shoes with 29,000 miles on them.

enticing. From soldiers thumbing for rides during WWII to the young, free-spirited people of the 60s who hitchhiked and traversed the country in strangers’ cars, the practice of hitchhiking is inexplicably linked to the legacy of roadside americana.

64 Americana’s Finest

By Cheryl Eichar Jett Stuckey’s humble beginnings as a pecan stand quickly grew to become a massive chain of stores between the 1940s-70s, serving pecan treats, meals, gas, and souvenirs to locals and road tripping families. While Stuckey’s experienced a marked decline during the late 70s, the granddaughter of the chain’s founder, Stephanie Stuckey, recently took over the reins in 2019 and has been steering the business in an upward trajectory ever since. As a classic road trip stop, roadies everywhere are thrilled to embrace a revitalized Stuckey’s once more.

38 A Conversation with Counting Crows

By Brennen Matthews America is undoubtedly a vast country, and this reality is not lost upon Adam Duritz of the popular band, Counting Crows, whose childhood was spent traveling around the country.

We sat down with Duritz to chat about his impressive music career, the band’s amazing rise to iconic status, the hits, and his exciting new album.

60 Roadside Americans

By Jack Reid While the heyday of hitchhiking in the US is long past, reminiscing and learning about its rich history is all the more 8 ROUTE Magazine

ON THE COVER Mule Trading Post’s iconic hillbilly sign. Rolla, MO. Photograph by David J. Schwartz – Pics On Route 66.

ROUTE Magazine 9

EDITORIAL My first introduction to roadside attractions was when I was 11. My grandparents had moved to a small Canadian province called Prince Edward Island. The island’s main claim to fame was as the backdrop to the Anne of Green Gables book series.

The book’s main character, Anne Shirley, has become a global beloved icon who has inspired many to visit the quaint island. That summer, my parents decided that it was time to visit family there, and we made the long trip over, which included traveling on a large ferry boat.

The island was a treasure trove of fun, roadside goodness. There was Santa’s Village. Imagine, you could visit with Santa Claus and the elves in the summer!

There were water parks and weird little museums and outdoor attractions. There was Fairyland, Marco Polo Land, Wax World of Stars, and the granddaddy of them all, the legendary Rainbow Valley with its flying saucer gift shop, storybook castle and slides, magic shows, and paddle boats. We only had two weeks to visit, but man, did we make good use of them. That summer began my attraction to the odd and the unusual, an appreciation that has only grown with my discovery and exploration of roadside America.

America has had a long love affair with kitschy roadside attractions, with thousands of weird and quirky roadside stops scattered across the nation. As a result, the country has more to offer road trippers looking for the bizarre and unexpected, than perhaps anywhere else in the world. It just wouldn’t be the great American road trip without these roadside oddities. They speak to the fabric of American ingenuity and creativity used to lure road travelers off the highway.

In this issue, we showcase the delightful journey of one of America’s most beloved institutions, Stuckey’s. The brand, which began as a roadside stand in 1931 and became famous for its Stuckey’s Pecan Log Roll, became synonymous with road travel in America. Today, the brand is making a comeback under the enthusiastic and passionate leadership of Stephanie Stuckey, granddaughter of W.S. “Sylvester” Stuckey, Sr., the man behind the brand. In this inspiring story, Cheryl Eichar Jett walks us through the revival of this roadside landmark and its fascinating journey. It’s invigorating to witness a once iconic brand come back to life and to watch as excitement for it grows.

One of the nation’s most popular roadside stops is Cadillac Ranch in Amarillo, Texas. These Cadillacs, buried nose first into the ground right off of Route 66, have been captivating visitors since they were first planted into the Texan soil in 1974. Nick Gerlich beautifully captures the real story behind how the art installation actually came to be, and the creative forces and personalities behind it. If you have ever been to the Cadillac Ranch, are planning to visit, or have only seen it in pictures, this story will speak to you. It will inform you, surprise you, and hopefully give you a renewed appreciation for the colorful options that are available to you as you enjoy America’s highways.

These stories, including a candid conversation with Counting Crows frontman Adam Duritz, the tale of the picturesque little Dairy King in Commerce, Oklahoma, a look into the road travel culture of hitchhiking, and so much more make up this August/September issue.

As you set out on your American road trip this summer, remember to do so safely while paying attention to local guidelines, mask ordinances, social distancing, and dining restrictions. We are on Facebook, Instagram, and Twitter, so do connect with us and share your road travel stories. We love to hear from you.

Remember, take the back roads, because life doesn’t happen along the interstates.

Travel well, 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 Taylor Hadfield Theresa Romano DIGITAL Matheus Alves ILLUSTRATOR Jennifer Mallon CONTRIBUTORS AND PHOTOGRAPHERS Cheryl Eichar Jett Chip Lord Efren Lopez/Route66Images Gimas Jack Reid Jeff Hirsch Jimmy Pack Jr. John Margolies John Smith Mark Payler Mark Seliger Marshall Hawkins Rondal Partridge University of North Carolina Walker Evans

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.

DESTINATION: CARLSBAD, NEW MEXICO From 750 feet underground at the Carlsbad Caverns to floating down the gorgeous Pecos River, Carlsbad, has everything you need for your New Mexico Adventure.

VISIT CARLSBAD, NEW MEXICO, WHERE POSSIBILITIES ARE ENDLESS! Carlsbad Chamber of Commerce 302 S Canal • Carlsbad, NM 88220 • 575-887-6516 tourism@carlsbadchamber.com Paid in part by Carlsbad lodgers tax.

ROUTE Magazine 11

12 ROUTE Magazine

Hungry?

Smell Yes! EL RENO, OK

Fried Onion Hamburgers • Ft. Reno • Festivals

ELRENOTOURiSM.COM

ROUTE Magazine 13

Just south of Springfield, Illinois, not far off of Route 66, lies a bridge that, at first glance, may look more like a floating barn. Tucked away under tall trees, the Sugar Creek Covered Bridge with its gently sloping red roof seems like something out of a fairytale, especially when surrounded by the warm green of new leaves in the springtime. For many, it’s unlike any bridge they’ve ever seen. But in fact, bridges like this one once dotted the various creeks and rivers that used to stretch like spindly fingers across the Sangamon landscape before construction of Lake Springfield.

The actual date of the Sugar Creek Covered Bridge’s construction is disputed—some place it as early as 1827, while others say it was as late as 1880. The latter group is most likely correct, since the bridge doesn’t show up on maps of the area until after 1874. At nearly 150 years old, the bridge is from the earliest days of Sangamon County.

It’s a near miracle that the bridge has survived this long, especially given that none of the other covered bridges built in Sangamon County, of which there were once sixteen, are still standing.

Why was this particular bridge deemed worthy of preservation? It’s not the architecture. Although the Sugar Creek bridge is a very well-constructed example of the Burr truss style, it is also one of many across the United States.

“The style of architecture built is not something that is unique. So, it’s interesting that it’s a survivor.” said Curtis Mann, manager of the Lincoln Library Sangamon Valley Collection. “But the Sangamon Historical Society has used it as a part of its logo for years. It’s unique to the county.”

That it is alive today can only be attributed to some serendipitous combination of luck, love, and hard work— luck, because many of the other covered bridges in Sangamon County were destroyed when the Spaulding Dam went up in 1932, forming Lake Springfield. Others weren’t structurally sound enough to support trucks carrying weighty loads as farm equipment got heavier, so they were torn down to be replaced with practical iron and concrete. The Sugar Creek Covered Bridge was erected over an area of the creek left untouched by construction of the dam and was sturdy enough to serve its purpose long enough to become recognized as an important piece of history. That’s where the love and hard work come in.

14 ROUTE Magazine

“I think people started to see that these bridges were going away. And there were some efforts in the 1940s, right after World War II, to encourage the state of Illinois to buy the bridge and turn it into a park or landmark, in a sense,” said Mann. It would take twenty more years of local people rallying around the Sugar Creek bridge, and others like it, for the state to pass a mandate decreeing that the Illinois Department of Public Works would take ownership of all covered bridges in the state – of which there are nine remaining—and put resources toward their protection and preservation. Even so, the bridges weren’t quite protected enough.

In 1977, tragedy struck. The Spring Creek Covered Bridge, then the only other historic covered bridge in Sangamon County, was a victim of arson. After that, local history lovers and bridge enthusiasts ramped up efforts to get the bridge on the National Register of Historic Places, which would afford it further protections and federal funding for maintenance.

Their efforts bore fruit in 1978, when the Sugar Creek Covered Bridge was officially added to the National Register. To better preserve the bridge, it was closed to road traffic in 1984.

The bridge is not only special because of its age and rarity—there’s also a local legend attached. Just a couple hundred yards north of the bridge lies a small pyramid commemorating the spot where Robert Pulliam, the first European settler in the region, built his log cabin. But Pulliam is something of a controversial figure.

“Robert Pulliam definitely wasn’t a saint. There are lawsuits and things like that which show that he had had his issues, various activities. But there’s a stone marker that was put out there to show that his log cabin was the first habitation built in what is Sangamon County at the time, going back before the county was created,” said Mann.

Because his settlement was so close to the bridge, the two sites are often paired.

A constant in the changing landscape as well as a silent witness to the early days of Sangamon County, the stately red bridge stands as a quiet but resilient testament to the hard work of people who cared enough to keep local history alive, and to the long history that runs through Illinois.

Image by David J. Schwartz – Pics On Route 66.

SUG A R CR EEK Covered Bridge

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 15

As you travel through Joliet, Illinois, on your venture across Route 66, ask a local what attraction you should visit, and chances are they’ll tell you the Rialto Square Theatre. Situated a couple of blocks east of Harrah’s Casino and Hotel, and a block west of the DuPage Medical Group Field for baseball, the Theatre stands out from the rest of Downtown Joliet with its unique architecture—a combination of Italian Renaissance, Greek, Roman, Byzantine, Rococo, Venetian, and Baroque. The nation considers it one of its top ten most beautiful theatres, and for good reason—it is known as the “Jewel of Joliet” to people of the Chicagoland area.

“When you walk into the main lobby, you’ll be blown away,” said Dan Mulka, marketing manager with Heritage Corridor CVB. “The Duchess chandelier, the architecture based on several different famous pieces worldwide, even inside the Theatre, the ornate architecture is mind-boggling. They don’t make them like this anymore.”

The Rialto Square Theatre began as the vision of six brothers— George, Jules, Louis, Harry, Maurice, and Claude Rubens—who wanted to build a theatre as if for a king, but accessible to everyone.

It was 1924, a time in between the World Wars when recreational opportunities were increasing for the middle class. To capitalize on this trend, the Rubens brothers formed the Royal Theatre Company in their bid to raise $2 million for the project. They contracted Rapp & Rapp Architects to design the building—which remains one of the firm’s last standing works—and Kaiser-Ducett to construct it.

A key player in the design of much of the Theatre’s artistry was Eugene Romeo, a Sicilian immigrant who worked in plastering. With his expertise, the Theatre developed replicas of the Hall of Mirrors at the Palace of Versailles, which forms the interior lobby; the Pantheon in Rome, making the dome in the rotunda; and the Arc de Triomphe in Paris, making up the archway in between the two. And those are just three of many marvels.

On May 24, 1926, the “Rubens Rialto Wonder Theatre” had its opening night with a showing of the silent movie Mademoiselle Modiste, to critical fame. The Rubens brothers met their goal, and they leased operation of the Theatre to Great States Theatre, Inc. although they retained executive control over the property. Their “Palace for the People” went on to entertain the masses for decades, becoming a stage for famous stars all over the country. Even Al Capone is said to have been a regular.

16 ROUTE Magazine

But the grandiosity of the Theatre’s debut would not last as the century carried on. Following the Depression, WWII, and the unclear fate of the Rubens brothers, upkeep of the Rialto slowed to a standstill. By the 1970s, the building was slated for demolition. Only the perseverance of a piano teacher, Dorothy Mavrich, and a businessman, Christo Dragatsis, saved the Theatre.

Together they spearheaded a movement to preserve the Palace of the People—a movement that gained such traction that it beget the Rialto Square Arts Association (now called the Cultural Arts Council of the Joliet Area), of which Mavrich became the president.

“The Rialto is an important part of the history of the area,” explained Mulka. “Bob Hope, Carol Burnett, Jerry Seinfeld, Gabriel Iglesias ... a number of stars both past and present. [It’s a] combination of history, local pride, and having a theatre that truly makes entertainers go ‘wow’ when they walk in.”

The Association’s efforts bore fruit when the Theatre was added to the National Register of Historic Places in 1978, making the building public property. But the fight was far from over. The Theatre needed an organization to manage it—which the local government provided with the creation of the Will County Metropolitan Exposition and Auditorium Authority—and it needed to be restored if it would continue to function. This task was accepted in 1980 by Conrad Schmitt Studios of New Berlin, Wisconsin, which had experience in restoring such classical architecture. By 1981, the Jewel of Joliet was as good as new, though it dropped its original mantle of a “vaudeville movie palace” as envisioned by the Rubens brothers.

Now the Rialto Square Theatre offers everything from concerts to comedy, to Broadway and wedding receptions.

For the supernaturally interested, it also offers paranormal tours to learn about the few ghosts said to inhabit the building.

“When you see the city on the night of a show,” Mulka remarked, “all of the restaurants are full. The city is alive, and you can sense anticipation and excitement as folks make their way to the Theatre. I think the ease of getting into the city on Route 66 during the Mother Road’s heyday made Joliet a true destination. And even today, if someone is driving the Route, if they notice a show on the historic marquee, it’ll make you stop and try to get tickets just to get inside.”

Image by David J. Schwartz – Pics On Route 66.

SHOW TIME at the R I A LTO

Chicago

Willowbrook

Romeoville

Joilet

Joilet

Wilmington

Braidwood

Dwight

Pontiac

Pontiac

www.TheFirstHundredMiles.com

ROUTE Magazine 17

J

esse James—the name alone conjures up images of lawlessness. Nicknamed the ‘fastest gun in the west’ Jesse was an outlaw, a cowlicked son of the Wild West. Hero of farmland and thin necked pistols. He, along with his brother Frank James, became known in the late 1800s for committing a string of robberies that included banks, stagecoaches, and even trains. Along with his other gang members, Jesse made history during the winter of 1866 for what is known as the first successful bank robbery to take place in the middle of the day. But it was when he and his brother Frank were officially tied to a robbery in 1869 in Gallatin, Missouri, that widespread fame came knocking.

James’ crimes were almost grandiose in nature, elevated by the crowds watching him. He was adored by the nation as an outlawed Robin Hood, and even sympathized with.

Headlines detailed him as they would movie stars. He lived a life of celebrity, tugging at America’s parched heartstrings while collecting his wealth into sacks. But in early April of 1882, James died after getting shot in the head by Robert Ford, another darling of the time. But even then, he refused to stay dead.

In true idol fashion, rumors began to spread of a possibility that James did not actually die, that he had once again outrun justice.

Even after his body was exhumed in 1902, some were still skeptical of the death of Jesse James. General public acceptance of his death continued until one J. Frank Dalton surfaced in Lawton, Oklahoma, in 1948 at the age of 101.

“Back before the Museum existed, my father was the general manager down here at Meramec Caverns,” said Lester (Les) Turilli, third generation owner of the Caverns.

“My dad was at the information counter one day and some people came in. The Caverns have always been billed as a Jesse James hideout. Anyhow, this couple, he leaned over to my dad and said, ‘What would you say if I told you that a story was going to break down in Lawton, that is about Jesse James not being killed in 1882?’ And as it turned out, sure enough, a story did break that Jesse was alive and well in Lawton. My grandfather said to my dad, ‘Why don’t you 18 ROUTE Magazine

go down there and check it out?’ He got down there, with the thought of proving that it was a hoax, but this old man answered all of the questions that the reporters asked him.

But what really caught my dad’s attention was that Jesse James has some known scars and bullet wounds on his body and this old man had the same scars. He was missing his index finger, like Jesse, and he even had rope burns around his neck like Jesse from when they tried to hang him. And that really impressed my dad.”

Rudy Turilli, son-in-law to Meramec Caverns owner Lester Dill, and in charge of promotion and publicity of the caves, became a believer in the J. Frank Dalton story and spent decades telling the tale to a fascinated public and promoting Dalton’s legitimacy. Turilli went as far as offering $10,000 to anyone who could prove him wrong.

His unwavering belief in Dalton, who died in 1951, culminated in the Jesse James Wax Museum in 1964.

“He [Dalton] agreed to come to Meramec Caverns, and he was here for four or five years when I was just a kid,” said Turilli. “But I remember, he had a cabin that was called the Jesse James cabin. He got tired of all of the hoopla and wanted to go back with his cousin to Granbury, Texas. But after that, my dad always wanted to open up a Jesse James Museum here at the Caverns.

My grandfather never knew where to put it, so my dad bought some property up on the highway and that is where it still is today.”

The Jesse James Wax Museum off of Route 66 in Stanton, Missouri, serves to prove the “true” history of Jesse James as J. Frank Dalton. The Museum is immersed in the history of James’ early life, Civil War adventures, robberies, and post outlaw life. Detailed life-like wax figures, surrounded by antiques, gun collections, autopsy photographs and even a barber chair where James is said to have received his last hair cut are displayed. Exclusive footage of J. Frank Dalton aka Jesse James, plus that of real eyewitness accounts who corroborated his survival, seek to pose the question: Did Jesse James really die in 1882? The Museum challenges you to choose for yourself what the true finale of the famous outlaw is.

Image courtesy of Gimas.

A Love Letter to Jesse James

20 ROUTE Magazine

ROADSIDE AT

By Nick Gerlich Opening image by Mark Payler

22 ROUTE Magazine

TTRACTION

ROUTE Magazine 23

P

hilosophers have debated for decades the chicken-and-egg conundrum, and art is no different.

While Oscar Wilde argued more than a century ago that “Life imitates Art far more than Art imitates Life,” it is the Aristotelian mimetic to which a trio of Northern California architects and artists subscribed in the early-1970s. Known as Ant Farm, they unwittingly conceived one of the most iconic (and ironic) art installations in the US, one that today sits only feet away from Route 66.

Art, some say, should imitate life.

And that it did, when they leveraged their knowledge of one of the greatest marketing ploys ever launched, the tail fin. From the late-40s through the early-60s, US automakers introduced new models with ever larger tail fins to set new cars apart from the previous years’.

What if representative specimens from that timeframe could be placed into the ground, a modern-day Stonehenge of sorts?

What if these specimens could be accessible to the public?

Chip Lord, the late Doug Michels, and Hudson Marquez were the driving force behind this vision.

It was an idea, though, that had to go searching for a benefactor. They didn’t have the means to pull it off, but they did find it in an eccentric Amarillo millionaire named Stanley Marsh 3. The result was the now-iconic Cadillac Ranch, one of the most popular and unusual attractions along the Route 66 corridor.

Art On the High Plains Ant Farm found open arms (and pocketbook) in Marsh 3, who was both patron and benefactor of the arts. The grandson

Even children were in awe of the Cadillacs.

24 ROUTE Magazine

of a Texas Panhandle oil man, Marsh 3 (who preferred the Arabic numeral rather than what he called the pretentious “III”) used his education and inheritances to become an oil man himself, a banker, and then later a media mogul and landowner.

Marsh 3’s appreciation for art fit perfectly in the Route 66 city, which oddly enough had attracted high-profile artists for many years prior. In the 1950s, Amarillo welcomed renowned artists like Elaine de Kooning and Louise Nevelson.

To his credit, Marsh 3 viewed life as art, and was inspired to use Amarillo as his creative palette.

That Ant Farm would find such a perfect fit is the stuff of wild dreams. The trio had become enamored with American car culture, and specifically the Cadillac, as what was then the showiest example of domestic automotive excess. The rise and fall of the tail fin as a marketing and design tool was not lost on them. Marsh 3 funded their project, which included Ant Farm members scouring Panhandle used car lots and junkyards looking for old Cadillacs that fit the 1949-1964 timeframe that the artists envisioned.

They likely never mentioned that they were creating an automobile graveyard.

Driven to Please It all came together when Marsh 3 hosted them on his wheat field in June 1974.

Located about a half mile west of the thenfarthest reaches of Amarillo, the Cadillac Ranch was intended to be a free public installation to which everyone was invited.

Don Arkon was hired by Ant Farm to dig half of the ten holes in that empty field. Arkon, a backhoe operator, recalled that while the project itself was a graveyard, not all of its four-wheeled residents were actually dead when they arrived in Amarillo.

“Chip Lord and Doug Michels contacted me. I went out there, dug the first five holes, and pushed the cars in. The very first one was a ’49 Cadillac, and started going up from there,” said Arkon, who was 21 at the time, recently divorced, and without a care in the world. “It was just a job to me.” A previous commitment is all that kept him from digging the remaining five holes.

Ant Farm had very exacting specifications for Arkon’s work. “I had to dig the holes with a 50-51-degree slope because they wanted each car leaning a certain way. Then we pushed them in there,” Arkon explained. “They set em up and they poured two feet

Stanley Marsh 3 relaxes on a recently buried Cadillac. Image courtesy of Chip Lord.

of concrete into the bottom to stabilize the cars. About half of the car went in the hole. If I remember right, the hole was about eight to nine feet deep.”

Interestingly, more than half of the cars were actually driven to their graves. “I know the ’49, they drove it,” Arkon continued. “Two of the other ones I did, they [also] drove out there. The rest they hauled out on a wrecker.” Ant Farm wisely drained all automotive fluids before burying the cars.

The inspiration for the project came from an old book that Ant Farm had stumbled onto. “We discovered a book called The Look of Cars that had this diagram in it showing the rise of the tailfin,” Lord recalled. “We began collaging it between the three of us.” While the trio focused on the art and architectural aspects of the project, they admit to a slight bit of social commentary at the same time.

Serendipity is a powerful thing, and it was responsible for bringing Ant Farm into contact with Marsh 3 in the first place. “We met Stanley through a network of artists, and began corresponding with him,” Lord continued. Marsh 3 invited them to Amarillo for a visit. He took highly to the then-young team and invited them to make a proposal.

That proposal, according to Marquez, the artist among the two architects, was for something far simpler in scope than what ultimately unfolded. “I wanted to make seed packets with pictures of the Cadillacs. I wanted Stanley to fund us to

put fake seed packets out in the farm stores,” he joked. “The things would grow Cadillacs, one for each model year that had tail fins, so you could have your own Cadillac ranch.”

While it initially had Stanley’s support, the trio then realized that instead of having others plant seeds, maybe they should just plant the complete cars themselves. “We went back to California and drew up a proposal, which became the blueprint,” Lord said with a hint of pride.

Marsh 3 fell in love with the concept, but he was just the money man, and had little to do with operations. “He did come out there when we were doing it,” Arkon noted. “He had a red 4-wheel-drive truck with a tow bar on the front, and it said TRUCK on the side of it. I always thought that he was a recluse.”

If anything, Marsh 3 was rather disengaged from it all, and was content to stand back to observe, leaving the day-to-day affairs to Lord and his colleagues. “He (Marsh 3) literally never spoke to me. Never said hi, thank you, whatever. I had no workings with him,” Arkon added. “He’d just come out there, stand around, and watch.”

“Stanley would come out with fried chicken and a couple six-packs of beer,” Lord laughed. “It was spectator sport for him.”

As for the interactions between Ant Farm and Marsh 3, according to Arkon, it was a perfect match. “They all had long ROUTE Magazine 25

hair and beards. They looked like hippies. Stanley Marsh [3] fit right in with them.”

Lord echoed this, adding that Marsh 3 was adamant about there not being any signage and that it should come as a complete surprise to passersby. While in Amarillo, Ant Farm had little contact with locals, aside from visiting junkyards and used car dealers. They lived in one of the Marsh’s guest cabins, and seldom had a free moment to mingle.

But Marsh 3, whom everyone in town knew, typically liked to keep his activities low-key, and never mentioned the Cadillac Ranch to local media. “A reporter for the [Amarillo] Globe-Times came snooping around. We made a press release saying no publicity until further notice. Stanley didn’t want local coverage,” said Lord.

Curiosity seekers would drop in as well. “We told them that Evel Knievel was going to come there to jump all these cars, and that Elvis Presley was coming for commercial filming.

We told people a bunch of things,” Marquez laughed.

“On opening day, we had contact with the people of Amarillo. It was around June 10 [1974] and Stanley invited everyone from the dog catcher to the Mayor,” said Marquez.

The people didn’t know what to make of it and were convinced that Stanley was making fun of someone but couldn’t figure out who.

“They weren’t sure if it was art. They didn’t know what it was,” Marquez concluded. And to this day, there are many who still don’t know.

Cars On the Route While the Cadillac Ranch is one of the favorite stopovers for Mother Road travelers, the wheat field where Ant Farm and Stanley Marsh 3 originally arranged the cars was never actually on America’s Main Street. It was close – you could see Route 66 traffic from the I-40 location – but those are the details pondered primarily by purists. Tourists, on the other hand, have never let that interfere with a good time.

“He [Marsh 3] gave us alternatives to choose a location.

It could have been on a very remote location, but it just seemed logical to be on Interstate 40 and close to 66,” Lord said.

That all changed in August 1997, though, when Marsh 3 quietly summoned a crew with backhoes, cranes, and trucks to dig up the Cadillacs and move them two miles west along I-40, to another parcel of land that he also owned. His reasoning was that Amarillo was growing too fast, and the city would soon engulf and surround his art installation.

It didn’t take long for people to forget the move, though, because so few knew anyway. Besides, it was just another of Marsh 3’s wheat fields, on which he often ran cattle during winter and early spring. Visitors had to dodge cows and manure en route to the famous automobiles.

The cars were carefully placed in a mirror-perfect array, but this time, they were actually very close to Route 66. As it turns out, original 66 was located along what is now roughly the north Frontage Road of the freeway, putting the Cadillacs a Hail Mary pass away from the historic road.

While the current location is not exactly curbside 66, you can see it from there. City promoters have likewise never worried about this fact. “If the visitor is calling it Route 66 and is calling it an icon of Route 66, then that’s what it is,” said Kashion Smith, Executive Director at the Amarillo Convention & Visitors Bureau.

26 ROUTE Magazine

Cadillacs in the Classroom Little did Ant Farm or Stanley Marsh 3 know then that their art project would one day wind up in the classroom. It may have been equal parts pop culture commentary and abstract art, but it also came to offer a teaching moment. Stir in the millions of people who have visited and contributed to it throughout the years, and it becomes a textbook example of how art can not only appeal to the masses, but also make them participants.

“When I teach contemporary art, I always use Cadillac Ranch as a starting point for my students, because it is a mix of so many key trends in recent art production,” said Amy Von Lintel, art historian and professor. Because it uses objects of popular culture — the Cadillacs — as its materials, it is a perfect fit for Pop Art. The thousands of layers of spray paint, in some places more than two inches thick, mean that the cars are not only material, but also canvas.

The result — which sometimes changes as rapidly as every 10-15 minutes during peak travel season — belongs to the public, Von Lintel argues. “It is performance art,” she explained, “… because every person who has ever gone out there and engaged with the piece, who has painted on it, climbed on it, taken photos of it, has been part of the work itself. It’s yours and mine and everyone’s.”

Ant Farm’s remaining members have mixed views on all that paint.

“That was not part of the idea. I don’t really like it,” said Lord. “But on the other hand, it’s like a skin that is constantly changing color, and it probably protects the metal under there.

It means the sculpture has a life and is alive in a way.” But initially, he found it to be very disturbing.

On his end, Marquez strongly dislikes what has become of the project. “I hate everything about it. It [spray paint] never had anything to do with it. It’s vandalism, and we never intended for it.” About the only thing that hasn’t been done to the cars, he mused, was to blow them up, but that came tragically close to happening in 2019 when arsonists set the 1949 Cadillac on fire. That car has since been repaired by volunteers and is no worse for the wear these days. But it is

The Cadillac Ranch is quiet at the end of the day. Image by Efren Lopez/Route66Images.

a prime example of the dangerous, careless behavior that has been witnessed at numerous Route 66 stops over the last few years.

It took about a decade for graffiti artists to adopt the cars as their palette.

“If you look at photos from 1975, there is no spray paint graffiti,” Lord said. “People began by scratching their initials in the paint with their keys. All the taillights were still intact, even the rear glass.” That’s a far cry from the state of the cars today, but even in 1984, at the 10th anniversary party, Lord recalls still being able to see the original paint colors, along with many scratched initials and only a little spray paint.

For better or for worse, the Cadillac Ranch accidentally became an ongoing participatory art project. Even Marquez accepts this fate. “Art should be accessible to everybody.

Whether it’s an art piece or a roadside attraction, it doesn’t make any difference.”

Looking At 50 While Ant Farm and Marsh 3 implicitly invited the public to view and participate, the idea that Cadillac Ranch would one day become a tourism magnet was probably not considered.

Approximately 1.4 million people visit the Ranch every year, according to Smith. “We believe that is actually conservative, because a lot of the buses come in after 5:00 PM. It’s an incredible amount of people out there.”

Seldom is the site devoid of tourists, even after dark. While there is a turnstile through which visitors must pass, it is never locked. Rain or shine, daylight or dark, Cadillac Ranch goes on.

Cadillac Ranch will turn 50 in 2024, and there are whispers of a celebration of sorts. Marsh 3 died in 2014, and Michels passed away in 2003. The cars are not at all like they looked in 1974, with many parts stripped off. They are, for all intents and purposes, mere skeletons of classic cars, to the chagrin of some. “I really hated to see those cars get beat up and graffitied. It would have been nice to keep them the way they were,” said Arkon, who moved away in 1978 and hasn’t been

back to the Cadillacs in 47 years. He has only seen them in pictures.

Marsh 3’s legacy lives on at the Ranch, as well as his other nearby art projects, which include the Floating Mesa, the intentionally broken-off legs of Ozymandias, and lingering mock road signs that he funded through the Dynamite Museum art group.

Amarillo continues to grow, and Marsh 3’s move in 1997 now seems prescient. The Cadillacs appear to be in a good place, a quirky roadside attraction that appears in print and online maps, and attracts visitors in spite of there still being no sign.

But that may change in the near future, according to Bryan Brumley, the General Manager of the Cadillac Ranch.

Brumley, who was the Marsh’s house cleaner and gardener years ago, now mans a merchandise trailer onsite. Food trucks show up several days a week, and Brumley hinted strongly about plans.

“It’s rumored that we’re doing something really big in connection with the 66 centennial [in 2026] and the 50th for Cadillac Ranch [2024],” he said with a slight smile.

“We are discussing a much larger scale plan for a gift shop, parking, and a kind of restoration,” Lord added, but stopped short of saying what that restoration might entail.

As for selling merchandise, Brumley said simply that it was just time, especially with others peddling unlicensed product nearby and along the edge of the Frontage Road. T-shirts, caps, stickers, snacks, and spray paint are among the items available.

Lord is somewhat sanguine about the future of the Cadillac Ranch. With two of the four principal players now deceased, he knows now that the project that Ant Farm and Stanley Marsh 3 created was bigger than the sum of all of them. “It’s like the Beatles. But the cars are still there,” he quipped.

Meanwhile, like moths to a porch light, visitors come, anxious to be a participant in the ongoing evolution of one of America’s most popular stopovers. In the process, they learn that sometimes the best things on a road trip are free, and that art really does imitate life.

ROUTE Magazine 27

THE KING OF

By Jimmy Pack Jr. Photographs by Marshall Hawkins

28 ROUTE Magazine

COMMERCE

ROUTE Magazine 29

I

t is a hot and dusty summer day and the air feels sticky. Still. Route 66 through Kansas is peaceful, packed with little treasures that are unexpected but welcome. The road sign indicates that you’ve entered into Oklahoma. The first town on this side of the stateline is Quapaw. It is small and easy to miss entirely. The next town is Commerce. The road is wide and empty, quiet. This section of Mother Road is somehow more remote in its feel, more lonely. There is an echo to more prosperous days. The drive west is surreal, the tranquil road through town is home to old buildings on both sides of the street. At the end of

Charles and Treva Duboise sitting in The Dairy King.

30 ROUTE Magazine

the road there is a structure. It looks like an old gas station, but it has obviously been transformed into something else, a restaurant maybe. The sun scorched pavement is void of people and traffic. The eatery stands out with its design and cheery red and white colors. A giant ice cream cone decorates the front center of the roof. As you exit the vehicle, the heat of the day–outside of the safety of the vehicle’s air conditioning– slaps you in the face and makes you dizzy. Oklahoma heat is no joke. You wander across the road–there are no passing cars–and into the building and it feels like stepping back in time. You’ve reached one of Route 66’s most iconic landmarks: The Dairy King.

In the Beginning Like many small towns, Commerce, Oklahoma, has a backstory. It started out humbly as a base mining camp, named Hattonville, after Amos Hatton, the developer of the Emma Gordon Lead and Zinc mine, in 1906. Between the years 1913 and 1914, the first post office in the area was built and named North Miami. Hattonville eventually

merged with Tar River, another mining camp, and by June 1914, the post office designated the area as Commerce, named for the Commerce Mining and Royalty Company, which had bought the entire mining camp. The mining town thrived, the economy and population boomed enjoying two newspapers, theatres, banks, and plenty of business to go around.

When Route 66 was commissioned in 1926, it went right through Commerce. It was an exciting time. Zinc mining was a steady job for locals, with chat (the waste from mined zinc) piles slowly growing north of the town like midwestern pyramids to the mining gods. In his famous A Guidebook to Highway 66, Jack Rittenhouse described Commerce in 1946 as “a town composed chiefly of homes of miners, whose cottages and shacks are mingled among the many chat heaps.

In the town where US 66 makes a sharp turn, is a large mineral specimen shop…”

That mineral specimen shop, which was also a filling station, started out in 1927 as a Marathon Gas Station. Jesse Broyles and his wife Grace opened the station at 101 North Main Street in Commerce, right at the perpendicular meeting of Commerce’s Main Street and US 66.

By 1930, Loren Broyles, a relative of Jesse’s, took over ownership of the station, and Jesse moved into truck driving for an oil company.

The Marathon Gas Station stayed in the Broyles family well into the 1950s (It is believed that Grace Broyles owned the property until she sold it, but there is evidence to suggest Minerva, wife of Loren, owned the Dairy King after he passed away in 1938). The station changed its corporate affiliation in the 1950s to a Tydol Flying A gas station. Sometime between the 1940s and 1950s, a family member of the Broyles decided to start selling ice cream along with the tires, tubes, Veedol oil, and batteries, eventually adding the Dairy King name to the front-right window of the building.

Meet the Smiths By 1962, the Dairy King was focused solely on serving ice cream and food to the local Commerce community and Route 66ers, and that’s when Merl E. “Smiley” Smith Sr. and his wife Lois, purchased the popular spot. “I remember when mom and dad talked to Mrs. Broyles, who owned the Dairy King before we had it. I had to be in junior high, and my brother, sister, and I thought that it was going to be the neatest thing in the world,” said Lois Jean Breedlove, daughter of Merl Sr. and Lois, who now lives in Broken Arrow, Oklahoma.

Merl Smith Sr. worked at Goodrich. Lois Smith thought that she would like a little income of her own, so the Dairy King was considered her place. But all of the Smith children worked there together, mostly taking care of the front and taking orders, fixing ice cream. Merl Jr., or Buddy, as they called him, was the youngest of the bunch, so he spent his early years napping and playing in the kitchen and pantry area of the Dairy King. “My grandmother was one of the cooks, as was a woman named Harriet, and they would share duties along with another neighbor and friend, Mrs. Larkin, whose boys went to school with me,” said Breedlove. “People would come in all the time, going down the strip, (Route 66/ Commerce Ave), or driving down Main Street. Of course, there were a lot more active businesses back then.”

“I was about in third grade when my parents bought the Dairy King, so I don’t know how much of a help I was, but I do remember getting straws and filling Cokes. I definitely learned the steps to running the place early,” said Breedlove’s sister, Mary Jane Wyatt.

During Vacation Bible School at the church the Smiths attended, Lois Smith made sure that ice cream cones were always provided at the end of the week for every person who attended the school. The Dairy King always advertised in all the local publications—newspapers, magazines, even the yearbook, and had a constant parade of Route 66ers, as well as the locals who constantly went to grab one of the most affordable meals in town. When the family first ran the restaurant, hamburgers sold six for one dollar; eventually, with inflation, the price went to five burgers for four dollars.

“You can’t get that anywhere now,” said Breedlove.

From the 1960s to the 1970s, when the main street of Commerce still had a bustling downtown, young people ‘dragged’ down Main in their cars, and always ended right at the Dairy King. “When my dad would get off work, he’d come by and check things out, and he’d see all the kids parked out front at the Dairy King. People would just gather there and sit and talk and eat. And of course, when there was a parade for anything, it would also end right there in front of us.”

Lois Jean, Mary Jane, and their younger brother, Merl (Buddy) Jr. were lucky to enjoy some of the hey-day of 66, but by the time the current owners purchased the Dairy King in 1980, Commerce had been bypassed by Interstate 44 for a few years, and the Smiths were looking to sell.

A Big Gamble Even before Kenneth and Treva Duboise purchased it, the Dairy King struggled to grab customers who were traveling through Commerce. “Back in the early 1950s, they bypassed our town on the south end, where we had one stoplight.

And most people, when they come to the stoplight, instead of coming straight into our small downtown area, they just go around the curve and follow the road [Route 69]. It was my husband’s idea to buy the Dairy King. I don’t think, at that time, we believed that there would be that much time involved running a small restaurant business, but we were wrong, and we were there every day,” says Treva Duboise, who now runs the eatery with her son, Charles.

Kenneth Duboise was born in Commerce, Oklahoma, and worked for Fenix-Scisson, which did contract work for companies like DuPont, that took the Duboise family all over the country. “We were in New Jersey when Charles was born, and then we moved to Wapakoneta, Ohio, where ROUTE Magazine 31

Treva and Charles Duboise standing outside the eatery.

Neil Armstrong was born. We moved there, I think, two weeks after Armstrong landed on the moon. But wherever we moved, my husband had always talked about owning his own business someday,” said Treva, who never complained about moving all over the country with her husband and their six children.

The Duboises ended up moving outside of Chicago, then to New Orleans, then found themselves back east in Pennsylvania, before eventually relocating back to Commerce in 1975. Back in Oklahoma, Kenneth Duboise’s urge to run his own business only grew, and in 1980, when the Smiths put the Dairy King up for sale, Kenneth and his wife jumped at the opportunity, despite the reality that Route 66’s traffic had reduced to a trickle.

Undeterred by the inconsistent flow of potential traveling patrons, the Dairy King spent decades thriving because of local support. And when people all along Route 66 began fighting to designate The Mother Road as a historic route, the Dairy King earned a whole new set of customers. With preservation efforts stretching outside of the U.S. shores, and Route 66 associations popping up in other countries, the restaurant began to gain in its international notoriety.

“Whenever local people come in, we know most of them by their first names. And many of them we’ve known for years and years. No one here is a stranger, but it’s always a lot of fun when we get folks off of Route 66. I can remember many of them, but there are some who just stick in your head more,” said Charles.

Oprah Wants to See His Shoes Charles Duboise is not your average person. In many ways, he represents what a large number of Route 66 travelers are specifically hoping to find when they drive the highway.

He is friendly, chatty, and represents the somewhat unconventional. On December 1, 1991–at age 24, concerned with his weight of 320 pounds–Charles threw on a pair of Nike sneakers, and, like Forrest Gump, started to run 32 ROUTE Magazine

around his hometown of Commerce. And he ran.

He ran in the same pair of sneakers for 13 years, putting 29,000 miles on his kicks. And he wanted to share his accomplishment with America.

“So, Oprah had on her website a list of ideas for shows, so potential guests could sign-up for one of these shows,” said Charles, who had previously spent a few years looking for topics to get him on the show.

“And so, there was this one topic listed that said, ‘How often do you….?’ There were examples after that like, ‘How often do you change your toothbrush,’ and other stuff. Well, the only thing I could think of that I used for a long time was my running shoes. So, I emailed them about January 2004. At the time I had estimated that I ran about 28,000 miles. I hadn’t figured it down to the mile, but it was somewhere in that vicinity.”

In Charles’ initial email he only drafted about 20 words, but he mentioned that he had been wearing the same pair of Nike sneakers for every daily run. Nike, at the time, happened to be one of the sponsors of the Oprah show, and Charles surmised that the mere mention of Nike might get his email pushed to the front of the line. About two weeks after he sent the email, a producer from the Oprah Winfrey show called, and two weeks later, he was a guest on the show. That’s how fast it happened. Before he knew it, Charles was off to the Windy City to make his national appearance.

Little Commerce must have buzzed with excitement. Oprah’s team put him up at the Omni Hotel in a three-room suite overlooking the busy Michigan Ave. traffic of Chicago. It was the first time Charles had ever flown before. The show was a success and before they knew it, Charles was back behind the counter at his tiny peaceful eatery.

Kenneth Duboise passed away in February 2008, after briefly serving as the town’s mayor. Treva and Charles have continued to nurture and hold stewardship over the beloved venue, ensuring that it will always be a part of Route 66.

“When we bought The Dairy King,” said Treva, “We didn’t think anything of what the end of 66 would do to us. Back then it was just another street, another road. But now we are certainly grateful that it’s had a revival. We love to welcome everybody.”

The Dairy King, like Route 66 herself, is a staple of Oklahoma life, and it continues to serve locals and the daily Route 66 wanderer looking for a bite at an authentic ‘joint’ where the same food and ice cream has been served to generations of people since President Truman held office.

The Dairy King’s foundation is secured into the red-clay dirt of the Sooner State, and if the Duboise family have their way, it will continue to faithfully serve patrons in the many years to come.

Miami, Oklahoma

The gateway to Oklahoma on Historic Route 66

DELUXE INN Miami, OK

visitmiamiok @miamioktourism @visitmiamioklahoma

ROUTE Magazine 33

OUR BIG 5 LESSER-KNOWN AMERICANA STOPS

The Donut Hole Doughnuts and drivethroughs are things that many Americans can’t live without, and in La Puente, California, you can experience both at the same time, in style.

The Donut Hole is a drive-through shaped like two doughnuts and was once part of a larger chain.

Today, there are few remaining, though, at this spot, they are still serving fresh-baked Americana.

34 ROUTE Magazine

Cabazon Dinosaurs

Museum of the Weird

Rainbow Rock Shop Dinosaurs

Mothman Statue and Museum

Even before Jurassic Park, Americans had been fascinated with dinosaurs, and in Cabazon, California, the road tripper can encounter giant dinosaur statues in the vein of Route 66 attractions. Originally, just a T-Rex and a long-necked dinosaur existed, but even more dinos were added as company for the vintage ones.

This is a fun family destination.

In Austin, Texas, the vintage roadside attraction or carnival freak show is still alive and well at the Museum of the Weird, where you can see shrunken heads and other classic oddities in the vein of P. T. Barnum, which keeps the spirit of the American “dime museum” around.

Finding a unique way to advertise is good for a business, and in Holbrook, Arizona, the Rainbow Rock Shop uses some colorful concrete reptiles to do just that. The shop, which sells fossils and other rocks, has quite a few dinosaurs made over 20 years to help draw attention to its offerings.

Bigfoot is the king cryptid, but the Mothman in Point Pleasant, West Virginia, isn’t far behind. The Mothman made his appearances in the late 1960s, and along with the movie of the same name, Point Pleasant has never been the same. Now, a museum and statue welcomes those who come to investigate the local legend.

Image courtesy of John Margolies.

America is home to a wide variety of weird and wonderful roadside attractions. It is a country that was founded on adventure and out-of-the-box thinking. In today’s hyper crowded world, where everything can be “experienced” online, America still has a few special places, on and off of Route 66, that are best enjoyed in person.

Williams, Arizona has something for everyone.

Plan a visit and see why visitors have fallen in love with Williams.

ROUTE 66

HIKING

RODEOS

WILDLIFE

ExperienceWilliams.com • (928) 635-4061

ROUTE Magazine 35

36 ROUTE Magazine

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

ROUTE Magazine 37

38 ROUTE Magazine

A CONVERSATION WITH ADAM DURITZ OF

Counting Crows

By Brennen Matthews

Images by Mark Seliger

ROUTE Magazine 39

I

first discovered Counting Crows when I was nineteen and living in California. It was a warm January evening, and I was with a colleague at the time, traveling fast up the 405 in his Porsche. It was the first time I was ever in one. I was young, we were in a fast car in California, and “Mr. Jones” came on the radio. He turned it up and turned to me and hollered, “Have you heard these guys yet?” I hadn’t, but it sounded pretty good. “They’re called Counting Crows.

They are going to be huge.” After that evening I began to hear their smash hits everywhere, and yes, they became huge. For many, Counting Crows is part of the soundtrack of the ‘90s. Their fun, upbeat, and at times reflective and mournful tunes define the decade and reflect a time of youth and simplicity. Now, after selling over 20 million albums, the band has a new record out and a lifetime of experience under their belt. I too am older and more seasoned now, but their music still always takes me back to that warm California night.

Your family moved around quite a bit; Baltimore, Boston, El Paso, until finally settling in California. In what ways do you think that impacted you?

Well, I think you can see it a lot in my writing, for one thing, because I write a lot about America and the scope of it, and different places in it, and I think growing up, you know, spending a lot of time at a young age, before ten, living in like five or six different places, and having driven to all of them, I spent those years, some of it, in a car, traversing a very large country. I think I had a real understanding of that, and [it] definitely informed some of the writing. But, also, you know, there’s a certain displacement, I think. Because I definitely remember noticing it when I got into junior high and high school, that a lot of my friends and people that I knew, had friends that they’d had for years, and I didn’t even really understand that. Like for me, it didn’t exist.

When I was three, my dad finished medical school and moved to Boston for his internships. Before I was six—it was during Vietnam—my dad had to go into the army. We moved to Texas. When he got out of the army, we went to Denver to finish [his] internships, and then back to Houston, to start doing research. But when we got to California, he decided that he wanted to practice instead. So, those were a lot of places, and to me, there was no such thing as people in your life. That was something that came and went. There wasn’t a sense of permanence with it. And I think that’s definitely affected me a lot through my life and in my relationships. That’s one of the things that was really difficult for me. I didn’t have the sense of belonging anywhere.

By the time I got into adulthood, I didn’t really have a sense of myself outside of the here and now. Like, this is where we are, and the future seems very uncertain; the past seems like a blur that has no permanence. And I really think that informs a lot of the ways I relate to people even now. It’s taken a long time in my life to let someone in and stay. It’s really the first time I can think of doing that now, five decades in.

I really do think my writing is informed by a sense of—I’m obsessed with the scope of this country, the sheer size of it.

What it takes for people to cross it. The distances people will go to be with each other, and the distances people will go and be separated from each other while staying within one country.

40 ROUTE Magazine

With all of your traveling, have you been on Route 66?

I have to have been. I feel like traveling from Texas to California through Arizona—as a kid—I was on it for sure. I don’t remember if we’ve been on the tour bus on it though, because it doesn’t run on the regular highway routes any longer. But I feel like the Route 66 thing came up when I was a kid, because we moved from the East Coast to Texas, but also during those years when we lived in Texas we traveled constantly. My parents were obsessed with Native American art, so we were always going to the reservations to visit the artists. I met all the great potters and sand painters and painters.

As an adult, have you had the chance to just hit the road and do the ‘Great American’ road trip?

Well, once you join a band, road trips suck. I mean, like, once you’ve driven… because the first year or so you’re doing it in a car by yourself, which means, I may have driven it by myself, because we put like 30,000 miles on my car in the first tour. We took a van and my car out for the first three months.

Then we went to two vans, it was about a year before we went to a bus. But you know, there was a lot of driving at that point, so [now] it just doesn’t have any appeal.

But I think, especially when I was a kid, those road trips gave me a real appreciation for the country. I lived in so many different parts of it, met so many different kinds of people, and we literally drove those miles. The seventies, you know, in a station wagon, and I really grew to appreciate the vastness of it, especially growing up on the east coast, and then ending up ten years later on the west coast. The sheer scope and expanse of North America, it really knocks you out, and you get an appreciation for different kinds of people and different ways of life.

Your first record, August and Everything After, is thoughtfully reflective. It’s obvious that your life experiences influenced the tone.

Well, I think it informs all the albums, I don’t think that’s ever shifted really, yet. I think it was always a real desire to communicate and connect. I really looked for ways to get out of the solitude and to connect with people. I think songs were a way… I wasn’t really good at doing that one to one, myself, but when you write a song you feel like it could connect with everybody, which might connect you with somebody. You don’t have to decide to connect or not to connect to anyone when you’re writing a song, you just write it and maybe it connects to everyone at the same time. I had much more of a desire to connect when I didn’t have to commit to any person in that connection, you know. I think that informed a lot of it, but I also think that impermanence and the question of your relationship to your memories is a big part of all my songs.

I mean, from “Ghost Train” which is, you know, literally about a train of ghosts, which are your memories, and [it] gets longer and longer, the longer you live. They all get on cars behind you and ride along with you. A lot of my songs are about looking at things that have gone, trying to come to grips with what it means to have done something, and try and remember it, that a part of your life that is not here today, even just yesterday, but especially a year ago or 10 years ago.

What all of those things have to do with you now, because they never seem to leave you, but they’re also not here with

you, you know what I mean? And I think that that sense of displacement has just been embedded in everything from the beginning.

Tell me your story. How did you begin musically and end up being one of the most respected bands in the world?

I was in a lot of bands. I was in Sordid Humor and I was in Himalayans at the time, which “Round Here” is a Himalayans song. Himalayans was really my main thing, and at the same time Dave Bryson and I were playing acoustic shows together.

We played in a version of Counting Crows before that, but we were just playing some acoustic shows and open mics and experimenting with little versions of a band here and there, but I was really focused on Himalayans. I would write songs and Dave and I would get together with different groups of guys, whoever we were playing with at that point, and record them. And at one point, we put this band together, and we played a couple of shows. We started to get some offers from some people who saw us, and they were making us really uncomfortable. They weren’t great offers. They weren’t really seeing what we were, they wanted to make us something. And so, we thought, we better get some kind of representation, because this was a little too scary to deal with ourselves. When we found our managers and our lawyer, it opened up a lot of doors for us. This all started in the fall of ‘91, I guess. We played some gigs in January of ‘92 and there were two weeks in a row [where] we played showcase gigs, and every record company in the world came at one point in those two weeks, and the Monday after the second week, we got offers from everyone. There was a big bidding war.

That must have been affirming. What made you decide to go with Geffen Records?

We went to Geffen for a variety of reasons. One, it was kind of a boutique label, and we liked our A&R guy there. And they offered us full creative control and a higher royalty. We traded away all the upfront money. There was a lot of money on the table, and we took home [around] $15,000 between the five of us, just like $3,000 each. But we got a really high royalty rate and we got complete creative control, which kind of doesn’t mean anything, because they’ll find ways to push you if they want to, but you know, we had it at least on paper, and we didn’t know that yet, so it seemed like a really good thing. So, we went to Geffen and we made the first record.

You’ve received all this attention from record labels.

You’ve signed on with one. And now it’s time to make the music. What was that experience like?

It was a brutal experience. We didn’t know what we were doing. I, especially, didn’t know what I was doing, and I was really, really concerned about doing it wrong. I knew what I wanted the record to be, I knew what was important to me–that you felt things. I was hard on everyone, and I didn’t know what to do, and I didn’t know how to do it. I just kind of decided that I was in charge. It wasn’t really a decision on anybody else’s part. I just decided that I was and willed it into being, and I didn’t even know whether that was fair, you know, but I thought I had to do it. Then [we] went out and played and nothing really happened for a long time. We were out there on the road opening for Midnight Oil and The Cranberries and

then Cracker. And we didn’t even have a single out. We didn’t agree with the record company on what it should be.

We thought it should be “Mr. Jones” and they thought it should be “A Murder of One,” but they wanted to edit it because it was too long. I refused to edit anything, and so we agreed to do nothing, and we went out there on the road and just kind of lied to radio stations and told them that the first single was “Mr. Jones.” Not because we thought “Mr. Jones” was a hit, we were all pretty sure “Rain King” was the hit. “Mr. Jones” just seemed like a good introductory track to get everybody to know the band, and get some attention before, you know, “Rain King.” We made a video, it came out. The record wasn’t even in the top 200, but we got this gig on Saturday Night Live, and then after we played “Round Here” on Saturday Night Live, the record jumped 40 spots a week! 40+ spots every week for five weeks. We ended up at number two for a year-and-ahalf, or so. A long time. It never got to number one. Bonnie Raitt, Ace of Base, and The Lion King kept us out of number one as I remember. Which didn’t really matter to me. We sold a ton of records. I just thought it was funny.

With the attention and notoriety that came with that success, it must have been a crazy time for you.

I had the feeling it was getting out of control, which it was, and tried to shut it down. We put out “Round Here” as the second single, and then I told the record company we weren’t going to do anything else, that we were done, because I didn’t want our career to be over that year, and I was really afraid that it would be. That all looked good for a second, [but] I had given them this demo, like a year before, of “Einstein on the Beach,” for a rarities record that was never going to be seen or heard by anybody. But when I told them that we weren’t releasing any ROUTE Magazine 41

more singles, they put that album out and made it a single. And so, the record blew back up again with a song. In retrospect, I would much rather have had “Rain King” out than that, but you know, I think things just got a little out of control after that, it just got bigger than we would’ve wanted it to be. We kept touring, but I had a hard time with it. I wasn’t prepared for everything that came with [success].

In what way? I mean, obviously you were looking for success, but then...

Well, you’re looking for success as a concept. That isn’t to say you have any idea what it is to live in it. Yeah, I really wanted to be successful, because I wanted to make my life out of [music]. But you don’t have any idea about fame until it lands on you, you know, and it landed on us! I was very, very, very shy, and I didn’t have any sense of how to talk to people. So, when I suddenly needed to talk to everybody, and there were all these people… And also, quite honestly, I was mentally ill, and I didn’t want anyone to know that. I sort of cracked in there a bit. I’ve said the same thing a million times, but if you woke up on Mars, it would take you a while to get used to the gravity, you know, and it took me a while.

How did you handle all the fame and attention?

So, after that year, there were people camped out on my lawn.

It was impossible to be in Berkley. I moved to L.A., and that was a nice fresh start for me. I found myself in a town full of people who really just wanted to be creative; like a working artist town. I came from a struggling artist town and our success wasn’t handled very well there. It frustrated a lot of people, as it does. But in L.A., it was like a working artist town, at least for a few years, for me. It was really nice just to be around other creative people. I hadn’t had many peers in my life really. Other than the people you play in the clubs with, most people don’t understand what you’re doing. Even your friends, they don’t do the same kind of thing you do.

After I recovered and settled back in, we got really excited to do another record. And I was really creative. I had a lot to say, and as I was writing the songs for “Recovering the Satellites,” I was pretty excited about it. There was some pushback and a lot of pressure after “August and Everything After,” but we had creative control and we didn’t really care a lot. So, we made that record, and I was so proud and happy about it. And you know, I think there’s always backlash when you have that much success. I think there was a lot of, “Okay, we’re really tired of these guys.” By the time that “Recovering the Satellites,” came out, it didn’t get the reception that we were hoping for. Which happened to a lot of our records after that. But I love that record, and it went straight to number one and was multi-platinum.

Did you find much of a struggle between doing songs that look like sure commercial hits like “A Long December” and those that may not be, but that you really love?

No, because the truth is, it only seems like obvious commercial stuff in hindsight. Like I said, the record label wanted “Murder of One.” They did not want “Mr. Jones,” at all, and they absolutely never even considered “Round Here,” which is really the song that established our career. Because as good of a song on the radio as “Mr. Jones” is, and it’s 42 ROUTE Magazine

great, it was people seeing us play “Round Here” that said, “Okay, this is a new thing. This I’m interested in.” I think it’s the “Round Here” that keeps people coming back for 30 years. And “A Long December,” I remember the first response from the record company was, “Are you sure you want to put Hollywood in a song?” But nobody knows what a hit is. They just don’t. And it seemed so obvious afterwards. You know, I thought, when I wrote it, “A Long December” is perfect. It just feels like a gem to me. It’s a perfect piece of timelessness.

It’s the one song, maybe the only song, I am never tired of playing. I don’t think I’ve ever not wanted to play “A Long December” in concert, and I don’t think that’s true for anything else. But I don’t think that we knew that at the time, or I don’t think the record company knew that.

So then is it more difficult for you to do a song like “Accidentally in Love” when you’re writing it for a movie?

That one was really hard. I could not get a handle on it.

I went over to DreamWorks, to the Amblin studios there, and sat with the director and one of the guys from the company.

They showed me most of the movie (Shrek 2) and they took me through storyboards of the other parts, and then we went back, and they showed me the scene at the beginning again that they wanted, and I said, “Yeah, I get what he’s talking about,” and I was like, “Yeah, I’ll do it. Just give me a DVD that I can take home of this scene.” So, I took that home with me and I struggled, because I never write with a plan. I never have a theme in mind. I never have a plot in mind—I just write.

I’d had it for about a month, maybe a month and a half, and we were getting ready to leave on a European tour, and I had sort of decided that if I didn’t get it before I left, I was going to call them and say, “Look, I’m not getting this, you should go to someone else,” because I didn’t want to screw them over. I didn’t want to leave it to the last minute. Then, a couple of days before I left, I got the verse and the chorus music—maybe a little bit of the verses and one of the choruses. I didn’t have all the lyrics, and I didn’t finish it, but I had the song, what it was going to be. I was hugely relieved. But I don’t think I’ve ever struggled writing anything like that in my career.

Being a shy person, have you always been comfortable performing in front of audiences or is it something you worked at?

Well, I don’t think I’m as shy now as I used to be, but it’s still an issue for me. It’s more that I’m uncomfortable with people and I feel… because dissociation [Dissociative Disorder] is a disconnection from life in general, so you’re in the back of your own head, you really have some distance between you and other people. But I have never been that worried about performing.

But the first few gigs I played with my first band, as an adult, not when I was a kid, I woke up—the first three gigs we played—with complete and utter laryngitis, for no reason.

I had no voice those days. I had to chew ginger on stage and swallow—continuously have a big ginger root, shave it, cut parts off, chew them like gum, spit them out, to burn my throat enough to get me to be able to sing for the first three gigs. And then it sort of stopped happening, so it was some kind of psychosomatic laryngitis, just vocal loss. But now, honestly, I know what to do on stage, and I have a feeling that anything I do is just self-expression and it’s okay, so if I want to be creative, I can just do that, but there’s no wrong up there

really, not really. It’s a lot more uncertain with people, and I don’t have the slightest idea how to do it a lot of the time.

When you did “Big Yellow Taxi,”—a great version by the way—was it the record company who suggested that you do it or were you already a fan of the song?

We were recording a bunch of covers. We took this one weekend where some of the guys didn’t come back on time to the studio, and we just started recording cover songs. I’d had this idea for a while for an acoustic hip-hop version of “Big Yellow Taxi,” with just a drum kit playing a loop beat, an upright bass, and acoustic guitar. And we had this version of it, and we were thinking of doing a covers album back then, and we also wanted some B-sides—we did about ten songs, a bunch of different stuff—but that version of “Big Yellow Taxi,” everyone loved it, our managers, the record company, they’re all flipping out over it. We decided to try and do a remix of it, and we went to a bunch of different producers. But Ron Fair, who was a producer at Geffen—he had just finished Vanessa Carlton’s record—called up and said, “Hey, I hear you’re passing this around to producers and looking for something.

I have an idea that I think could be really good. Can I send it to you?” And I said, “Sure, of course.” So, he sent it, and it wasn’t what I was expecting or looking for, but it was really good, so we decided to do it. It didn’t get done in time before we had to leave for a tour in Europe, but we had this idea for those background vocals, but they needed to be done. I wasn’t going to be able to be there, and I was worried about anyone having to sing on one of our songs without me in the studio, and being uncomfortable or intimidated, and I asked Ron if Vanessa would do it. Vanessa was a total unknown then, but she had just finished a record with him, and I’d heard a lot of it, and I thought it was really good. And my feeling was that if anybody was going to be able to deal with being in the studio without us there, it would be someone he had just worked with. So, I suggested using Vanessa and it actually turned out really well.

Do you know if Joni (Mitchell) ever heard it?

Yeah, I know she heard it because I was with her. When we finished that version of it, Joni was down the hall working on a record. It turned out to be “Travelogue,” the record she did with Vince Mendoza, with all the orchestral versions of her songs. So, Steve Lillywhite [British record producer] really wanted to play it for Joni, and he kept telling me that he was going to go get her, and I kept trying to sneak out of the studio because I was so scared of being around Joni and her hating it or something. So, I tried to sneak out, and I ran into Steve and Joni walking back into the studio and got busted. We went into the studio together and he played it for her, and she loved it.

This is not the version that came out, it’s our version, the hip hop version. She flipped out and she got really excited and she’s like, “Do you want to come hear some of my record?” And I said, “Sure.” So, we went down the hall for the next hour and a half and she played me almost all of “Travelogue,” like we sat there and she’s like, “Do you want to hear another?” And I was like, “Absolutely.” You know, it’s still one of my favorite records. The song was a huge hit, unexpectedly though. We purposely hid it because we didn’t want the record company to put it out first, so we hid it on the record. But the record company got this offer from the movie (Two Weeks Notice), and they got really excited about the free publicity, so they put

it out, but it was stupid because it became a single before we ever had it listed on the record. So, it didn’t sell any records because everyone was like, “Wow, this is a huge hit, where do I find it?” And they couldn’t find it, so it was a mess that way.

I was reading, Adam, that when Kurt Cobain took his life in 1994, it really impacted you heavily. That you sort of looked at parallels between his life and story, and yours.

Yeah, actually, and I knew him too. Gary Gersh signed both of us—Kurt a year or so before us. We were his two little brothers. So, I knew Kurt and he was really great to me. I was nobody, we didn’t even have a record out when I met him.

The few times I hung out with him were all before we’d even released a record. He was just a really sweet guy. He really was. He was just the nicest guy. I don’t know how else to put it other than that, I mean, aside from that he was a genius.

And I saw [Nirvana] live back when I knew him, and it was blistering. It was incredible, you know. I saw maybe the first show for “In Utero,” and it was one of the most face-melting things I’ve ever seen. It was unbelievable.

Were you and your friends surprised when he took his life?

Well, I don’t know if surprised is the right word. He’d been missing for a while, and I knew it because… I wasn’t really close to him, but Gary was. And to me, he was my life a few years ahead of me. We were off in Europe on tour, and I was pretty freaked out about a Rolling Stone interview and photoshoot that was coming up. We landed in Paris and got to the hotel that day.

I was met in the lobby of the hotel. They didn’t have our ROUTE Magazine 43

rooms ready yet, but we met David Wild, who wrote [the article], and Mark Seliger, who did the photoshoot in the lobby that day.

And we were talking, and in talking to David, I actually got comfortable with the idea of being interviewed, because it was pretty much freaking me out being in Rolling Stone.

I know you have to do it and it sounds like a great thing, but your life, especially back then—your face is going to be on every newsstand in America, which meant something back then. And your life is going to be different, and I didn’t know what that was, but I knew it was already changing.

So, I’m in the lobby and I hear, “Adam Duritz, please pick up the courtesy telephone.” And I go over to this phone, I pick it up, and “There’s a phone call for you.” And it was Gary calling from America, telling me that they had just found Kurt’s body.

I may be the first person on the continent to know. And I’m sitting there with the guys from Rolling Stone, I’m sitting there with the things that are going to change my life, and I get the news of what happened to him, and yeah it really, really shook me up. I mean, it terrified me, and it was devastating. Because like I said, at a time when I was nothing, he was really kind to me, and I really liked him. I looked up to him and… I knew that I had problems, emotional problems and mental illness.

Nobody else did, but I did, and I was looking at what happened to him with all that fame and seeing our record jump 40 points a week, and sitting looking across the lobby at the writer for Rolling Stone and the photographer who is going to shoot the cover shot, and I was scared. Yeah, it shook me up to no end.

You sing about Hillside Manor in “A Long December.” I was reading a book on River Phoenix and it mentioned the same place.

It was my friend Samantha Mathis and Tracy Falco’s place.

They had—and it’s not a mansion or anything, that was the joke, we called it Hillside Manor. It was a little house they had, a block or two above Sunset, east of Laurel Canyon.

They lived right down the hill from me. Samantha had been my girlfriend at one point. I met her with River Phoenix when we were making the first record. She was dating River then.

After River passed away, Samantha and I got back in touch and became friends and we ended up dating. That was their house that they lived in. And we’d run into everyone up there: Jude Law, Christian Slater… they were all really good friends, and we would spend a lot of time at their house. It’s where I’d go after The Viper Room, to hang out.

That must have been a very exciting time. You were young, late 20s, famous, with friends who either grew up in the industry or were on the cusp of their own celebrity.

For me it was just—it was moving from a struggling artist town to a working artist town, and everyone was working. And some of them were famous, but a lot of them were struggling, too.

One of my best friends was Randall Slavin, who just put out a book this year, a book of photography called “We All Want Something Beautiful,” of all the photos he took there in that year. Randall was a struggling actor back then, and we were just all friends. We knew each other—some of us were more successful than others. But The Viper Room was where my real home was then, and I met a lot of people there. There was just a world of interesting people flowing through that place all the time. It was a place to go be and not have to worry about anything else. You were just normal there. I was a bartender.

44 ROUTE Magazine

You were?

Oh yeah, for years. I was a… most of my time at The Viper I spent bartending. The people that worked there were the only people I knew in L.A. at first, really.

Do you think that a cloud hung over The Viper Room after River’s death?

No, I think in people’s perception of it, it did. But The Viper was always very anti-drug. It really wasn’t that kind of place. That was a real outlier. If you got caught doing drugs in The Viper Room, you were booted. It’s why they weren’t inside the club when that happened. I mean, not that they got booted, but they just didn’t do it in there. It was really sad because we all liked River. I mean, I was gone when it happened. I was in Dallas.

The Viper was a wonderful, wonderful place, full of the nicest people that worked there and people that were interested in all kinds of sh*t.

After all these years, you shaved your trademark dreads in 2019. Why cut them off at this point in your life and was it a scary decision to make?

I’d been thinking about it for a while, I was just really tired of it. I loved them, and they were the first time in my life I felt like I looked in a mirror and really saw myself. Like, I think when I looked at myself—I remember coming, looking in the window of an art gallery in San Francisco, and seeing myself and thinking, “Oh, that’s me. That’s the me I’ve always thought was me.” I have just always felt weird. I didn’t know what it was then—it was probably the dissociation, you know, that causes you to not feel like you’re in your skin, and so looking in mirrors is probably one place where you’d get confused, but that went away when I saw the dreads. But it had been a long time, and I was tired of [them] for a lot of reasons. I got to England, and we were on our way out to our friend’s farm, a couple of days later—where I wrote all of “Butter Miracle”—but we were at his house, and I was going to take a shower, and I’m just looking at myself in the mirror and I thought... I had the clippers with me, and I just grabbed them and cut [the dreads] off. Then I took a shower and I went up and woke my girlfriend up, like, “Hey, by the way,” and she looked up at me and went “Holy!”

For months and months after that, I would pass by a bathroom and, just because I could, stick my head under the sink, wet my hair, dry it with a towel… because I couldn’t do it for so many years, and it just felt great to do it. It was pretty liberating. It was a little scary at first because that was who I was. But it felt like the right thing to do, and I haven’t regretted it at all.

It’s a new stage in life. It’s a new chapter. And, you have a new album out, Butter Miracle.

This is a very special record. It’s very unique, there aren’t a lot of things like it. I think that the same things that made people love “Round Here,” and us because of “Round Here,” are very present in this suite. It takes you on a journey, you know. I’m really, really proud of it.

Check out Counting Crows’ new album Butter Miracle, Suite One. It’s perfect for your summer road trip!

ALL SIGNS POINT TO OKC Wanderlust? 21c Oklahoma City is the perfect destination for the curious traveler in need of an easy getaway. A multi-venue contemporary art museum and boutique hotel in the cultural heart of the city, 21c is the perfect place to begin exploring all that OKC has to offer.

Best hotel in the Midwest – Condé Nast Traveler Readers’ Choice Awards 2019

#thisis21c 21cOklahomaCity.com SuttonBeresCuller (American), You Always Leave Me Wanting More, 2015.

Aluminum, enamel, LED lightbulbs, electronics, flooring.

ROUTE Magazine 45

BN AWE

IN BLOOMINGTONNORMAL, IL

800.433.8226 \ VisitBN.org

On Museum Square in Downtown Bloomington, the Cruisin’ with Lincoln on 66 Visitors Center is located on the ground floor of the nationally accredited McLean County Museum of History.

The Visitors Center serves as a Route 66 gateway. Discover Route 66 history through an interpretive exhibit, and shop for unique local gift items, maps, and publications. A travel kiosk allows visitors to explore all the things to see and do in the area as well as plan their next stop on Route 66. You can even get “Busted on 66” with a photo op in the old county jail at the center!

CRUISIN’ WITH LINCOLN ON 66 VISITORS CENTER Open Monday–Saturday 9 a.m.–5 p.m., Sunday 10 a.m.–2 p.m. (May through September) 200 North Main Street, Bloomington, Illinois 61701 • 1.309.827.0428 • CruisinwithLincolnon66.org *10% off gift purchases

46 ROUTE Magazine

ROUTE Magazine 47

700 Flav

By Brennen Matthews Photographs by David J. Schwartz - Pics On Route 66

48 ROUTE Magazine

vors

ROUTE Magazine 49

F

or many people, Route 66 is a trip into the past. It’s a nostalgic dive into classic Americana and an opportunity to experience a world that largely no longer exists in today’s ultra-crowded, super busy world.

Travelers are on the hunt for historic motels and tasty mid-century diners, vivid neon that lights the evening sky, and quirky roadside attractions that beckon motorists to pull over. But what many of them do not realize is that Route 66 is a living, breathing highway that is constantly in transition. New roadside stops pop up periodically, adding to the fun and allure of the open two-lane highway. But as drivers slowly make their way across Western Oklahoma and down the tranquil section of Mother Road leading west into Arcadia, with its famed Round Barn, they are often not expecting to run headfirst into a 66-foot-high soda bottle whose neon lights the clear night sky. But it is there, nonetheless, and an unexpected encounter with the fabulous Pops is not one that is easy to forget, but it does fit perfectly with all that came before it, along Route 66.

First opened in 2007, Pops was the brainchild of Aubrey McClendon, the former CEO and chairman of Oklahoma City Chesapeake Energy. In the early 2000s, with some thought toward the environment, McClendon established a tree farm in Arcadia and fell in love with the tiny Mother Road village. He wanted to invest in the old highway and decided that the gas station, shop, and eatery was the perfect addition. The enormous soda bottle was created by W & W Steel in Oklahoma City and, weighing four tons, was transported to Arcadia in one piece. It took the entire day to travel the 23 miles, but it was worth it. The actual building was designed by architect Rand Elliot, the same person who designed the Route 66 Museum in Clinton, Oklahoma.

A common misconception is that the stop was named Pops in honor of its respectable collection of soda, but in fact, McClendon named his newest venture after the nickname that he gave his once soda jerk father, “pop”.

In Route 66 tradition, motorists were quick to discover the new attraction, and word spread quickly. The huge bottle certainly helped, but its offering of 80 different varieties of Root Beer or its crazy unique brands like Hilary Hooch, Beefdrinker’s Teriyaki Beef Jerky, and Peanut Butter and Jelly, have aided in making the roadside stop what it has become.

“The culture has always been the same since day one that I started here. It’s all about an adventurous family friendly experience with great food, friendly staff, and everchanging and growing selection of classic and crazy sodas.

In 2008, Pops was new frontier. It seemed like every day was different, because our staff and customers both were on the same ride to Pops being born into the icon it is today.

I’m not sure if anyone quite anticipated the amount of impact and sheer volume we were to experience, therefore 50 ROUTE Magazine

we were constantly adapting and adopting new ideas to give our customers the best experience possible. We carry that same culture today,” said Tyler Hall, Operations Manager at Pops who has been with the establishment since the start.

Approaching from the street, Pops carries on the visual assault with its mix of futuristic-and-midcentury style. The front windows house soda – neatly arranged on shelves – from floor to ceiling, organized by color and brand, making the display a beautiful introduction to a creative and funky experience. Inside, there are booths and tables, and a counter that offers a vintage diner experience for those keen on grabbing a bite. Outside, the unusual structure incorporates a cantilevered truss that extends 100 feet over the gas pumps.

As time went on, others recognized an opportunity and approached McClendon about franchising. He agreed and in 2016, licensed Nichols Hills to open a second, smaller location in Oklahoma City that was built with a more modern design. This location closed unexpectedly on December 21, 2018.

Now, 14 years later, Pops is no longer the new kid on the road. The stop has become a respected addition to the highway, similar to other new additions like Uranus Fudge Factory and the much newer Buck Atoms in Tulsa, Oklahoma. But still, little seems to have changed.

“Overall, the essence of Pops hasn’t changed dramatically over the years, which I believe is great. It’s almost like it’s a time bridge between an older and younger generation of Route 66; at its prime and its current revitalization.

Bringing people together no matter the age, and helping create memories for years to come,” continued Hall. “These new attractions are not only putting more people on Route 66, but they are also revitalizing business in lots of small towns all along Route 66. Pops is unique because it’s the only place of its kind. Where else can you go and experience the nostalgia of Route 66 blended with [our] modern architecture, a 66 ft tall LED pop bottle, 700 different bottled sodas, great food, friendly staff, and a tank of gas for wherever the road takes you?”

Sadly, McClendon was killed in a road accident in March 2016. He was only 56 years old. The business sat in legal limbo for some time before being purchased by Edmond locals Jessie and Zar Sandhu and their company US Star Properties in November 2020. The future of Pops is uncertain, but in true Route 66 fashion, Jessie and Zar are excited to discover the iconic nature of Route 66 and are eager to take the beloved stop into its next chapter.

“In the past, we always went to Pops when any of our out of state family came to visit us. It’s an iconic place. It's a landmark,” said Jessie. “Everything was intriguing there.

Who wouldn't want to be part of this type of building! I get so excited to see [it]. Actually, my goal is to one day drive Route 66, all the way across.”

For motorists and Mother Road travelers, the enormous soda bottle still provides a wonderful surprise as they venture down America’s Main Street and through the diverse realities of Oklahoma’s Route 66 treasures. It is also a reminder that Route 66 is an ever developing, constantly changing road that continues to delight adventure-seeking or road-weary travelers today as it did 95 years ago.

DID YOU KNOW?

VISITTUCUMCARINM.COM #tucumcariproud

ROUTE Magazine 51

KITSCHY C Photographs by John Margolies

52 ROUTE Magazine

COOL

ROUTE Magazine 53

A

merica’s backroads were once an adventure, packed with the unexpected and the unusual.

Many of them still are. A trip down Route 66 is famous for its muffler men giants, restored gas stations, neon laden motels, quirky museums, colorful, fascinating history, and lonely desert ghost towns.

But Route 66 is only an accentuated picture of what can be found across much of the country.

In this issue, we have handpicked some of our favorite stops that showcase a recent past that in some cases is now long gone but still deserving of our attention.

OPENING SPREAD: Reed’s Gifts sign, Route 1, Warren, ME. 1984.

ABOVE:

ABOVE:

Hoot Owl Cafe, Southgate, CA. 1977.

Kentucky Fried Chicken, Marietta, GA. 1992.

54 ROUTE Magazine

ABOVE: Fish mouth, Freshwater Fishing Hall of Fame, Hayward, WI. 1987.

RIGHT: Miner’s Hat Realty, Kellogg, ID. 1987.

ROUTE Magazine 55

RIGHT: Christie’s Restaurant sign, cowboy shrimp, Houston, TX. 1980.

56 ROUTE Magazine

ROUTE Magazine 57

58 ROUTE Magazine

ROUTE Magazine 59

60 ROUTE Magazine

On

June 24th, 1962, a clean-cut young man named Don Maddux stepped to the edge of the highway in his hometown of Lancaster, Ohio.

With a dark leather suitcase at his feet, he took a deep breath and stuck out his thumb in search of a lift westward.

A recent college graduate, Maddux wanted to explore the fabled landscapes of the western United States before starting a new job in Washington D.C. Lean on funds and desirous of adventure, Maddux aimed to hitchhike all the way to California and eventually visit the World’s Fair in Seattle.

The rest of his journey would be more spontaneous, guided by his own curiosity and the willingness of passing motorists to give him a lift. Although he frequently hitched rides as a university student, this was going to be his most ambitious journey to date.

Maddux’s summer getaway did not disappoint.

Reminiscing to a local reporter upon his return, he spoke of a series of rides across the desert in the Southwest via Route 66 as well as a week spent with a family from New Jersey who welcomed him into their tour of the California coast.

Maddux also had fond memories of bussing tables at a Lake Tahoe resort for two weeks. In addition to earning some cash for his journey, he got to sneak glimpses of famous celebrities like Frank Sinatra and Dean Martin while taking in the majestic scenery. By August 26th when he returned home, Maddux calculated that he had traveled 17,000 miles via 212 rides, visited 24 states, and only spent 81 dollars. Reflecting on the journey and the hospitality so many people showed to a traveling stranger, Maddux noted, “It is truly hard to believe how friendly the American people really are.”

While perhaps surprising to our contemporary eyes, Maddux’s experience was not all that unique. Indeed, many young people in the sixties and seventies regarded the spring and summer months as the “hitchhiking season.”

Throughout the year hitchhiking was local in nature, but as school terms ended many baby boomers in search of thrifty transit took to the road with visions of distant cities and stunning natural vistas fueling their imaginations. Still, hitchhiking was not always motivated by adventure. During the golden age of hitchhiking between the late 1920s and the mid-1970s, generations of Americans thumbed rides for a variety of reasons, each informed by the historical climate of the time—whether it be the Great Depression, World War II, or the advent of the hippie counterculture in the late 1960s. Yet, by the 1980s Americans had largely moved on— associating the practice with excessive risk and danger. As a result, hitchhiking fell to the margins of acceptable behavior where it remains today. But for a time, roadside Americans were a quintessential part of the cultural picture of the United States.

I Need a Lift Thumbing rides first gained traction in the United States in the mid-1920s amid a booming economy and a period of expanding car ownership. Critics in the media typically framed the practice as a hobby of young elites taking off on

frivolous adventures. The story of a Swissn exchange student named Max Houseman speaks to this dynamic. In May of 1929, Houseman was finishing up his spring semester at St. John’s University and itching to leave Annapolis for a cross-country adventure to California’s golden shores.

Considering the 70-dollar bus fare would overwhelm his 100-dollar budget, hitchhiking was the obvious choice. Yet, as the practice was “unknown in the Old Country,” Houseman had to seek the counsel of another student in his dormitory.

The young man explained to Houseman that, above all, it was critical to “look as collegiate as possible.” Knickers and a university sweater appealed to the most common individuals willing to offer lifts—bored traveling salesmen looking for an entertaining distraction. After all, automobiles lacked the robust entertainment options we enjoy today.

Together, they outlined a path from the East Coast to St. Louis—the historic “Gateway to the West” for generations of overland travelers. Once there, Houseman would have to make a choice—take the northern route to California through Colorado and Utah or follow what the pair referred to as the “Santa Fe Trail,” commissioned as Route 66 by the U.S. government just three years earlier. Houseman opted to take the northern route, hoping to avoid crossing a vast stretch of desert in the summer heat. Yet, as often happened with something as unpredictable as hitchhiking, six days later he found himself in St. Louis stepping into a car heading all the way to Los Angeles via Route 66. Despite the change in plans, Houseman was elated with this development as it cut his arrival to California from roughly two more weeks of traveling to just five or six days.

Although, by the 1950s, Route 66 came to be known for its colorful roadside attractions, in 1929 the path from Albuquerque to Los Angeles lacked many of the creature comforts it would boast in later decades. Vast stretches of the road were not even paved. Understandably, Houseman’s host expected him to pull his weight. At the time, proper thumbing etiquette often meant taking turns driving, but in this instance, Houseman was also expected to help with roadside maintenance. He ended up changing two blown tires over the course of the five-day trip navigating rockfilled, dirt roads. During one such pit stop he passed out on account of the scorching 120-degree heat. As Houseman could attest, hitchhiking was not always glamorous. Either way, it got him to California with a few stories and some cash still in his pocket.

Although Houseman and other young people in the roaring twenties saw hitchhiking as a ticket to thrifty adventure, the Great Depression and World War II transformed perceptions of thumbing rides—along with nearly everything else in American life. Reeling from economic uncertainty and wartime rationing, many Americans began to associate hitchhiking with utter necessity.

A Bad Idea?

Today, the idea of soliciting rides from a stranger may trigger anxiety about personal safety. During the Depression, however, those on the road were often more concerned with finding a job, a hot meal, and a dry place to sleep. Familiar with the unemployment crisis, many motorists were sympathetic to their plight. Sadly, this benefit of the doubt and generosity of spirit was rarely ever granted across racial lines to people of color, for whom hitchhiking was often prohibitively dangerous.

ROUTE Magazine 61

Even so, a 1938 poll by the Institute of Public Opinion found that 43 percent of Americans approved of hitchhiking. Despite crime blotters from the period highlighting roadside muggings and murders, Americans generally looked past this periodic violence in ways that later, more affluent, and risk-averse generations would not.

President Franklin Roosevelt’s administration made a point to defend the character of those on the road, framing transient individuals and families as hard-working, industrious “pioneers” seeking out opportunity. A young Ronald Reagan was one such individual. Upon graduating from Eureka College in 1932, he hitchhiked throughout the Midwest in search of a radio broadcasting position before eventually landing a job in Des Moines, Iowa. Women also took to the road. Although reports varied, a conservative government estimate from the time suggested that upwards of 250,000 women between the ages of twelve and eighty-six were considered transient during the mid-1930s.

Perceptions of hitchhiking from the Depression years evolved as World War II began. Perhaps most impactful, the U.S. government began dramatically rationing gasoline and tire usage, limiting all Americans (excepting those with a special status) to 240 miles of driving per month. The government also instituted a national 35 miles-per-hour speed limit, deemed “victory speed.” Impatient drivers likely discussed this seemingly glacial pace in less triumphant terms. On top of these limitations, the military—facing a serious vehicle shortage—also repurposed school and city buses in some locales. Taken together, these actions dramatically altered the nation’s transit options, leading many to look at carpooling and hitchhiking in new ways.

Even former critics of the practice softened their stance, especially for service members in uniform. Moved by a sense of patriotic volunteerism, many Americans went out of

their way to offer soldiers in uniform a lift. In one instance, a soldier leaving his South Carolina base made it home to California so quickly that he arrived before the letter alerting his parents of his imminent arrival. Civilians frequently hitched rides as well. Mindful of the war effort, the New York Times etiquette columnist Emily Post gave women she deemed “Defense Debutantes” the go ahead to hitch to their jobs in munitions factories and other positions in the war industry.

Everyone made sacrifices. Lacking a team bus, a high school football team in Paris, Texas, made the best of the situation by hitchhiking to their away games. Likewise, roughly onethousand Texas A&M football fans hitched 500 miles to Baton Rouge to see their team ultimately lose to Louisiana State in the 1942 season opener.

Following the war, young baby boomers growing up in the comfortable environs of suburban America began to characterize thumbing in new ways. Hitchhiking became a rite of passage for youths like Don Maddux who felt hemmed in by the predictability of their normal routine. Soliciting rides from strangers over the course of an extended journey offered these relatively sheltered youths an unfiltered dose of the human condition. Writing about this brand of “sport hitchhiking” in a feature story for Sports Illustrated in 1964, Janet Graham observed “It is true that hitchhiking…can be mildly dangerous,” but she reasoned, “that’s one of the attractions in this overcushioned age.”

With nothing but a few essentials tucked into a backpack, young people roamed the country sleeping under the stars and chatting with farmers, businessmen, college students, and any number of personalities as they roared down the highway. In 1951, a fourteen-year-old Merle Haggard and his pal Bob Teague hitchhiked from Bakersfield, California, to Central Texas in search of their musical hero Lefty Frizzell. Ten years later, a young Bob Dylan hitched from his hometown in Minnesota to New York City to pursue a career in music.

Reflecting on the decision years later, he explained, “I suppose what I was looking for was what I read about in On the Road.” In each case, these young people had ambitious plans. Due to financial restraints and a romanticized notion of the road, they turned to hitchhiking to reach their goals. In other words, the reward outweighed the risks.

Despite this youthful enthusiasm, the national media and law enforcement agencies began to see ride solicitation in an increasingly negative light. Reports of robberies, kidnapping, and serial killers targeting hitchhikers inspired a push among critics, including FBI director J. Edgar Hoover, to ban thumbing in the name of the public good. Many older Americans were nostalgic about their own hitchhiking experiences, but felt it was time to move on. Comparing the practice to “the open cracker-barrel, the common drinking cup and the typhoid saturated swimmin’ hole,” one journalist suggested that these “pleasant aspects of a by-gone A man and woman hitchhiking near Vicksburg, Mississippi in 1936. day” ultimately had to be “abandoned in Photograph by Walker Evans. the interest of public safety.” Other critics 62 ROUTE Magazine

were more direct, with one penning a book titled, Hitchhiking: The Road to Rape and Murder.

Even with this negative attention, thumbing was more popular than ever in the early 1970s. With its promise of free, untethered, and spontaneous mobility—hitchhiking became a key aspect of the era’s countercultural movement. As the hippie aesthetic of flamboyant clothing, casual drug use, and communal living entered the mainstream, hitchhiking also gained popularity and became a hip way to get around for a generation coming of age in the 1970s. Notably, this wanderlust was not confined to the United States. Steve Jobs, cofounder of Apple, for example, dropped out of Reed College and embarked on a hitchhiking journey through India and Tibet in search of expanded consciousness and a more meaningful life. Beyond the counterculture’s appeal, the women’s liberation movement also inspired a growing number of women to hitchhike. As a 1973 University of Wisconsin sociological study concluded, “younger ‘liberated’ co-eds see themselves as having the same prerogatives as men, i.e., the right to take a walk at night, to Bakersfield, California, April 1940. Photograph by Rondal Partridge. thumb a ride, and have freedom of access and movement at any time and in any place.” Gas shortages and a budding environmental hitchhikers at the ‘on’ and ‘off’ ramps, but in my five years on movement also fueled the practice’s mainstream appeal. the force, I’ve seen a marked decrease.” Across the country, a Notably, this hitchhiking renaissance inspired several New York State Police officer agreed, “Absolutely there’s been guidebooks as well as popular songs, such as Creedence a decline. There aren’t nearly as many hitchhikers out there Clearwater Revival’s hit “Sweet Hitchhiker.” today as there were ten years ago.”

Yet, the very things that made hitchhiking exciting By the 1980s, the vast majority of those still hitchhiking to young people—its unstructured and unpredictable were doing so because they had to. As drifters and itinerant flourishes—clashed with the broader trend toward safer and laborers replaced fresh-faced students on the road, fewer and more regimented behavior in the post-war United States. fewer Americans were willing to offer lifts. Although some Inspired by a worldview that revered social cooperation felt a pang of guilt and thought about stopping, most decided and trust, many youths in the 1970s ignored the negative that it was not worth the risk. Aware of this, one middle-aged characterizations of hitchhiking from law enforcement man stranded outside of Barstow, California, in 1981 bitterly agencies and the media. For them, hitchhiking (or offering a observed, “They know you’re desperate. They know you’re lift) was a political statement, a vote in favor of the essential hungry,” and he astutely remarked, “They’re afraid of that.” goodness of others in the face of cynical arguments that With nearly six decades in the rearview mirror, it is worth claimed otherwise. Things began to change by the late wondering what a young Don Maddux would do today. The seventies, however, with the rise of a new youth culture yearning for adventure and worldly experience would likely centered on ostentatious wealth and a celebration of capitalist still be there, but most twenty somethings planning a trip individualism. As Risky Business replaced Easy Rider, these days are content to save up for gas money or an airline fewer young people romanticized the practice. Years of ticket. Maddux would still get away, but it would no doubt be anti-hitchhiking messaging also began to take root in the a different trip. All things considered, he’d probably spend a minds of this next generation—further marginalizing the lot more money, miss out on meeting some interesting people, practice. Observing this trend in 1988, a California Highway and see less of the country. He’d be safer, but I bet he’d have Patrolman recalled, “Up until 1974 and 1975, you would see fewer stories to share with folks back home in Lancaster.

ROUTE Magazine 63

Opening image courtesy of the University of North Carolina.

And Still, I Need a Lift

AMERICANA

By Cheryl Eichar Jett

64 ROUTE Magazine

A’S FINEST

ROUTE Magazine 65

T

he American road trip — those very words get your immediate attention and inspire idyllic daydreams of sunny days spent rolling down picturesque highways on the way to attractions and landscapes that you’ve only read about. But the romance of the road inevitably collides with the stuff of everyday life — the need for another tank of gasoline, the search for a clean restroom, the desire for a cup of coffee and a sweet treat, and the little niggling at the back of your mind that you promised to bring home a souvenir or two for Aunt Betty. Sure, there are modern travel stops along all the major routes that check those boxes, but once upon a time, there was a chain of roadside travel stores that served up sweet treats, inexpensive good food, kitschy souvenirs, and travel services better than anyone else.

And they did it with an extra scoop of Southern charm and a slice of Americana style. That chain of blue-roofed goodness was Stuckey’s, and it was a national treasure from the 1940s into the ‘70s.

Then, it slipped from the hands of the Stuckey family into a steep decline. Now, it’s fast regaining its reputation. Stephanie Stuckey has been at the helm of the iconic company since 2019, and she sees reviving the great American road trip, whether a Sunday afternoon drive or a two-week vacation, as one of her guiding principles.

“It’s also celebrating the pecan. The two really go hand-inhand because we started as a pecan stand on the side of the road,” Stephanie said. “So, we’re trying to embrace the history of the road trip. We became our most popular when the road trip peaked — that’s when we hit our high point. With the road trip coming back, which is pretty exciting, we are coming back. Everybody loves a come-back.”

The Father of Stuckey’s In the newly incorporated city of Eastman, Georgia, Williamson Sylvester Stuckey was born in 1909 to William Ira and Sallie Lee Williamson Stuckey. A little more than two decades and one depression later, Sylvester, by then a law school dropout, was making one cent per pound buying pecans from local farmers around the Middle Georgia countryside and reselling them to a local sheller named Fred Bennett. Despite the Great Depression throughout the U.S. and Florida’s own depression brought on by two giant hurricanes in the late ‘20s, American tourists — granted, in smaller numbers — were still traveling to Florida in the 1930s. And Eastman was right on the path to and from the Sunshine State.

And so, with a borrowed truck and $35 cash loaned from his grandmother, Sylvester opened a humble roadside stand to sell packages of pecans to Florida tourists. To further eke out a living, he convinced his wife, Ethel Mullis Stuckey, to make candies from some of 1937’s plentiful pecan crop. Ethel put those pecans to use and learned to make pralines, divinities, 66 ROUTE Magazine

and the soon-to-become-iconic log rolls. The first “official” — that is, in an actual building — Stuckey’s roadside candy and gift shop plus gas station opened that year in Eastman on US Highway 23. A candy production plant was soon built behind the gift shop to keep up with demand. The second Stuckey’s location opened in the late 1930s at Unadilla, Georgia, on US 41.

The next Stuckey’s that opened was in Florida, in a location just south of the Georgia/Florida border at Hilliard on US Highway 1. More locations followed in the 1940s.

“Because of World War II and so many people sending candy to soldiers in the war, a lot of candy was produced,” explained Gary Yawn, retired insurance, real estate, and timberland entrepreneur; personal friend of Sylvester Stuckey; and Eastman local historian. “These young men came back from World War II, it was like an education to a young person, because when they got back, they got jobs, they started traveling, and the Stuckey’s stores were a big hit. Those stores were a big part of their success, so Stuckey was able to expand his industry and expand his candy manufacturing, and sometimes people would buy an interest in a store back then.”

A Roadside Empire By the early ‘50s, a double-page magazine ad listed 16 locations, mostly in Georgia and Florida, but also in Tennessee, South Carolina, and Virginia.

Profits were expected to go up further from a deal struck in 1950 with Texaco, who was to be their exclusive gasoline supplier. A new corporate headquarters and candy factory opened in 1953 in Eastman. Those first 16 locations seemed to multiply like rabbits throughout the decade of the 1950s, making the Stuckey’s roadside stop synonymous with clean restrooms, tasty candy, a good variety of snacks and souvenirs, gasoline, and anything else a motorist could possibly need. The iconic teal-blue peaked roof attracted the traveler’s attention and the Texaco flag waved them in, where they were assured of a clean, safe, and fun break from the road. For those who didn’t travel or who lived in a rural area nowhere near a brick-and-mortar Stuckey’s, catalogs offered candy, treats, and souvenirs by mail order.

“People were somewhat ‘country,’ even the northerners, you were just not as educated and not as traveled [until after World War II], especially in the South,” Yawn added. “Now, I’m proud of the South, my granddaddy was a state legislator.

[But] they came from that time and date, all common people, and Stuckey captured that. Stuckey went to the University of Georgia and he was a well-traveled guy.”

The story is told that Sylvester cleverly began to calculate how far apart Stuckey’s locations should be by driving the highways himself and taking note of how long a cup of coffee

Sylvester Stuckey visiting his store.

would last or how soon a restroom might be needed. He was said to favor locating a Stuckey’s store on the east side of the highway so it would be on the motorists’ right-hand side as they headed back home from Florida.

By its 1960s peak, Stuckey’s had simply become an integral part of the classic American road trip, including along the new interstate highways. Sometimes, that’s all there was at an interstate exit — just that highly recognizable teal-blue roof signifying the consistency that was Stuckey’s. There were 368 stores in more than 30 states, radiating outward from the Eastman, Georgia, home base. Billboards in yellow and red along the highways advertised the nearest Stuckey’s location and often a current special, like “two eggs, toast and jelly, for 99 cents.”

Support businesses kept the roadside empire running smoothly. Stuckey’s candy plant in Eastman still produced the famous sweet treats. They owned a trucking company to ensure that products were delivered promptly to the stores.

And their own sign company produced the 4,000 yellow-andred billboards that dotted America’s highways.

In 1964, Stuckey’s made a merger decision that seemed to make sense at the time — ­ to add capacity and capital — but would carry fatal consequences just 13 years later. The

Pet Milk Company, in its growth from producer of canned evaporated milk to multi-brand food products conglomerate, purchased and merged with Stuckey’s. Sylvester, however, now 55 years old, kept a hand in running the company and served on the company’s Board of Directors.

Decline of an Icon 1977 was a sad year for Stuckey’s, the company, and Stuckeys, the family. On January 6, at the age of 67, Sylvester Stuckey died. Later that year, the Chicago conglomerate known as Illinois Central Industries (ICI) purchased Pet Milk Company.

Although ICI grew out of the Illinois Central Railroad in 1962, it had been created as a holding company to diversify at a time when the railroads’ investment returns were not good.

Their diversifications included real estate, industrial products, financial services, and consumer products, including Pet Milk Company, with its ownership of Stuckey’s. ICI, as owner of Pet Milk Company and its subsidiaries, began to close Stuckey’s stores across the country, and in the late 1970s, the legendary roadside stop began its decline, leaving just a handful of stores open.

ROUTE Magazine 67

Billy Stuckey’s Revival But entrepreneur W.S. “Sylvester” Stuckey had left behind a namesake who also became a force to be reckoned with.

Williamson Sylvester Jr., known as “Billy,” held a Bachelor of Business Administration completed in 1956 and an undergraduate law degree achieved in 1959, both from the University of Georgia. Billy had been a five-time Democratic US Representative from the Peach State from 1967 to 1977.

And, whether or not he knew it at the time, he had the perfect vehicle for turning Stuckey’s around — once he got the company back, that is. Billy had built up a massive business opening Dairy Queens along the American interstates. His Interstate Brands Dairy Queen company owned hundreds of the popular red-roofed soft-serve shops across the 48 contiguous continental states. Billy astutely realized that — and deftly took advantage of — interstate highway travel had become, by the early 1980s, a vital fact of life.

Meanwhile, back at ICI, the company that owned Stuckey’s was in litigation. “My dad was running multiple businesses; he was a serial entrepreneur. His main business was not Stuckey’s,” explained Billy’s daughter, Stephanie. “Then, he bought back [Stuckey’s] from the company [that owned it] that was facing litigation from franchisees for the way the company was being managed. My dad was able to negotiate that if the company were to be given back to the Stuckey family, they would drop the lawsuit, so the benefit was from my dad getting [Stuckey’s] back for basically nothing, and [ICI] was getting this huge litigation mess off of their hands.”

So, in 1984, Stuckey’s was back in the hands of, well, the Stuckeys, and the iconic roadside chain began its turnaround under Billy’s experienced leadership. Launching the Stuckey’s Express concept put “a store within a store,” a move which

The display inside of a traditional store.

68 ROUTE Magazine

soon expanded to 165+ franchises in 17 states. “Nowadays, there’s a TA or Subway or Wendy’s, there’s whatever, [along the highway]. That wasn’t the case in the 1980s, so he [Billy] was really a pioneer in co-branding, just like my grandfather was with the original roadside retail,” Stephanie added. “So, I had a lot to learn from them. Really, my father figured out how to pivot and change the business model to make Stuckey’s work, given where the company was when he acquired it.”

But, the Great Recession in 2007-2009 took away discretionary income from many families across the country, and travel services and attractions suffered from it. The candy plant in Eastman, operated by a third-party contractor, closed, and outside vendors began to produce Stuckey’s brand candies. At that point, Stuckey’s was just a decade away from another generational hand-off. “When my dad got it, he made Stuckey’s work by incorporating it into what he was doing [Interstate Brands Dairy Queens]. [But] when I got it, at that point, the co-branding had fallen apart. To be honest, a lot of the stores had de-branded or closed, and you think, they don’t look so good anymore, so the store model isn’t working for us like it did 30 years ago.”

The Third Generation’s Turn W.S. “Billy” Stuckey Jr. retired in 2019, and his daughter Ethel (named for grandmother Ethel Stuckey) “Stephanie” Stuckey was up at bat if she wanted to be. And she wanted to be. “[When] I became the CEO, nobody else wanted to do it.

I would have happily stayed, I mean, I had a career working with the sustainability of buildings. It was interesting work and I was getting paid a nice salary. I had a life,” Stephanie said. She also had a Bachelor of Arts and a law degree from the University of Georgia, had worked as a trial lawyer, had been politically active since her teens, and had — savvy in the ways of political campaigns by then — won her own successful bid for the Georgia State House of Representatives.

For a decade, she had worked on environmental issues as director of sustainability services for Southface Institute, an Atlantabased organization, but the appeal of saving the iconic family business (again) won out.

“My dad sold his Dairy Queens over a decade ago to Warren Buffett and then he and his business partners at Stuckey’s all kind of shut down shop and left Stuckey’s with a skeleton crew. That’s how I got involved. They hadn’t had any leadership for over a decade and my dad’s former business partners were looking to sell their shares.

I said, ‘Well, if I’m going to buy the company, I’m going to run it,’ because nobody was. It was literally on autopilot with two employees and a skeleton crew — five employees — in the warehouse and

three sales reps, and [we] rented all this space. It had been like that for decades and just losing money, and nobody knew what to do with it.

I said, ‘I’ll buy it,’ so that’s how it happened. I bought out my dad’s partners and then I bought out my dad in June of 2020. I bought out his shares because he’s retired and I said, ‘Just let me run the company, Dad, just relax,’ because he was freaking out over all that had to be done. ‘You don’t have to do any of this.’”

Since Stephanie took over as CEO, Stuckey’s has acquired Front Porch Pecans, Atwell Pecans, The Orchards Gourmet, and Thames corporations, which added distribution, candy making, pecan processing, and fundraising expertise and opportunities to the company. With the Front Porch Pecans merger, Stuckey’s also Stephanie Stuckey in Marietta, OK. acquired manager and Georgia pecan grower R.G. Lamar, who through collectors’ memorabilia plus various company became the new company president. archives to write and publish a book in 2017 entitled simply And what would grandfather Sylvester have to say now?

Stuckey’s. In an era of road trip revival, when the past is “I wish I knew. I was 12 when he died, and I think about honored and kitsch is cool, Stuckey’s fits right into the mix. him all the time. I spent my first three-to-four months on the job reading through articles written about him to get an understanding of how he ran the company. I tried to be true A Plaque Marks the Site to his spirit of entrepreneurship. I like to say that Stuckey’s is The first Stuckey’s gift shop building still stands on US an 80-year-old startup. I really do think like a startup, because Highway 23 — Oak Street — right across the road from the that’s what we are doing, we are re-imagining the company. In tidy-looking mom-and-pop Eastman Motel. It’s currently many ways, I’m going back to how we were when we started empty, time-worn, and vintage-shabby, although the original in 1937, the roadside stand when we were selling pecans. candy plant and other buildings behind it have housed We’re back to selling pecans, we’re back to shelling pecans, warehouse space and local businesses. Out in front stands an we’re back to making our own candy. I’m doing some of impressive plaque commemorating Mr. and Mrs. W. S. Stuckey the things he did, but what I’m running now is not the same and their establishment of the legendary Stuckey’s. One could company that he sold in 1964. I think he would also get a look at this old building with its faded blue roof and easily real kick out of knowing that I bought this candy plant in see it as symbolic of the Stuckey’s decline during the late Wrens, Georgia, right across from an old Stuckey’s store, and twentieth century. the plant I bought was run by a man named Atwell of Atwell But the thing is, it’s also a significant reminder of the Pecans. My grandfather did business with Mr. Atwell, so I amazing success that Sylvester Stuckey built during the Midthink he would like it.”

Century from such modest beginnings. Just think of all those family station wagons up and down America’s highways that The Rebound pulled up to an iconic Stuckey’s roadside location, to get gas, Grandfather Sylvester would most definitely like it. There select souvenirs and sweets, and maybe have breakfast or a are now 65 franchised locations, and a distribution center in sandwich. The familiar teal roof and the Texaco flag flying out Stuckey’s hometown of Eastman, Georgia. A pecan processing front signaled the first and the best in terms of travel services. and candy plant produces their own Stuckey’s branded But now, in many locations across the US, the modern tourist products. An online business picks up where the mail-order can once again stop at a travel store and find Stuckey’s catalogs once left off, and about 200 retailers sell Stuckey’s products. An iconic Pecan Log Roll, just like Ethel used to pecan snacks and candies. A branding refresh this year will make. Maybe a rubber alligator or the Red Drinking Bird for make things look new again with the traditional 1940s logos.

Aunt Betty. Certainly, a bag of Georgia pecans for snacking And the new logo says it all — “We make road trips fun.” during the next leg of the trip. And, just like the Stuckey’s There’s a lot to like. mail-order catalog of yesteryear, fans can now order goodies The word about Stuckey’s return to roadside glory is online. You can still get your own piece of America’s national getting around. Business journals and major newspapers have treasure—Stuckey’s. It’s there waiting for you, where the published feature stories. Tim Hollis, author of numerous romance of the road and the needs of everyday life collide in books about Southeastern US media and attractions, combed the classic American road trip.

ROUTE Magazine 69

E

dward Abbey once wrote, “A giant thirst is a great joy when quenched in time.” Thirst must be what drives the tiny Desert Market in Daggett, California, because it has been quenching it since 1908.

Daggett is like many Mojave towns in that it was formed once silver, gold, borax, and other minerals were discovered in the nearby mountains. Scores of miners and their families moved to this desolate region in the mid-1880s, a place where summer temperatures routinely top 110 degrees. They settled and created towns before the railroad or highways were built and used the Mojave Trail that had been carved out by Native Americans.

Dating back to the 1860s, Daggett was built on the fortunes of silver and borax mining. The Southern Pacific Railroad arrived in 1882 from the west, while the following year the Atlantic and Pacific Railroad arrived from the east. Like most small towns of the era, Daggett’s compact commercial district was adjacent to the tracks.

The Desert Market, still in business today, is built of solid concrete, no doubt a safety measure incorporated after the original building— which housed a supply store—burned to the ground. Frank Ryerson had purchased the George Miller General Store in 1907, but it was destroyed by fire the next year.

Ryerson promptly rebuilt that year, expanding his grocery and meats selection to include Shell gasoline, tires, tubes, and oil, as well as providing general automotive services.

In so doing, the Mojave’s first fireproof building unwittingly became one of the oldest structures on or near Route 66 in San Bernardino County. It is virtually indestructible.

While it didn’t become known as Desert Market until many years later, today it is the only market on the beautiful but incredibly harsh journey between bustling Barstow and sleepy Needles, not counting a handful of truck stop and gas station convenience stores. The Spanish-influenced architecture stands out in this tiny desert community, especially given that it was built by a Canadian immigrant.

Daggett was a hub of mining activity in the late 1800s and could support numerous businesses, all of which lined the street just north of the railroad. The borax wagons used in mining operations were built in Daggett. A few feet east of the Desert Market are the remains of the 1875 Stone Hotel, and next to it, the Peoples General Store. Both have been abandoned for years, but the fact that Daggett once had two markets only feet apart says a lot about how bustling this desert community once was.

70 ROUTE Magazine

Author and historian Jim Hinckley related that the hotel had a storied past, with Sierra Club founder John Muir a frequent guest, and Walter “Death Valley Scotty” Scott keeping a steady room there. Wyatt Earp is even rumored to have spent time at the hotel, and supposedly ran the faro table. It was a different time.

In 1913, the National Old Trails Road was scraped out of the crusty desert soil, allowing automobile traffic to pass through town. The road followed the railroad corridor religiously, if only because early civil engineers were taking advantage of the corridor that the railroad had created more than 30 years prior and could utilize the rail to deliver equipment and supplies as needed. The original alignment of this road came into Daggett from the east on the north side of the tracks, mere feet away from the south-facing Desert Market.

Traffic flowed through town on this alignment for fifteen years, which included when numbered federal highways were written into law in 1926. Route 66 thus spent a short time running right past the two Shell gas pumps that once stood proudly under the canopy. “The [new] alignment south of the tracks shown on the 1929 map would be the first place U.S. 66 would get its own roadway here in California—from Daggett to Newberry,” said Mike Boultinghouse, a National Old Trails Road historian.

In spite of this rerouting, the Market continued to survive, and continues to attract locals and Mother Road tourists today, although over the years many of the town’s businesses chose to relocate closer to the new road south of the tracks. By the late 1960s, traffic had reached such a high level on Route 66 that the faster, more efficient interstate highway was built a short distance farther south, which forever diverted traffic away from town.

While ownership has changed hands numerous times in the last century, the Desert Market has been owned by Abeed Ajeel since 1986 and runs with only two employees. No one seems to remember when the gas pumps were removed, and lottery tickets became the featured seller.

The future looks bright for Route 66 through Daggett, though. Hardly like its suburban supermarket competitors that have 45,000 different products, the Market is a living throwback seven days a week, selling just enough for Daggett’s 200 residents to get by. It is also the town’s U.S. Post Office, and retailer of state lottery tickets. It may not have the selection of big city stores, but it’s got history on its side, and, most importantly, continues to joyously quench the thirst of Daggett, one year at a time.

Image by John Smith.

DESERT SOLITAIRE

ROUTE Magazine 71

Ha u n t i n g i n

H

olbrook, Arizona, is a relatively unassuming stop on Route 66. It is home to the world-famous Wigwam Motel and is now known more for its connection to dinosaurs and fossils than for its energy.

Looking at it today, it might be difficult to imagine that the now-peaceful city was once a wild frontier town with a well-earned reputation for lawlessness.

But every town has its ghosts, whether literal or metaphorical, and Holbrook is no exception. Relics of its unruly beginnings still abound, exemplified by the old Navajo County Courthouse right off of Route 66.

Holbrook began as a lone railway stop along the Atlanta Atkinson Topeka Railroad, and slowly grew into a humble settlement. Unfortunately, with that growth came a reputation for crime, which was mostly perpetrated by just one group— the Hashknife Outfit.

“In 1884 the Aztec Land and Cattle Co. utilized the right of way along the railroad line across Northern Arizona by shipping in more than 33,000 head of cattle from Texas, which was suffering a bad drought,” explained Jolynn Fox, director of the Navajo County Historical Society. “The cowboys tending the cattle were called the Hashknife Outfit, named for the cattle’s brand that resembled a hashknife used by cooks. This outfit was a wild and wooly bunch, involved in rustling, the Pleasant Valley feud, and causing ruckus in Holbrook. It is said that they’d ride into town shooting their guns in the air telling children and women to go home, that the Hashknife was in town.”

Eventually, Holbrook decided to settle down a bit and become a reputable town with laws that were actually enforced. In order to do this, though, they’d need two things: a courthouse and a jail. And so, in 1898, voters approved $15,000 to be set aside for the construction of both. They had two pre-made jail cells shipped in from the Pauly Jail Company, and the rest of the two-story building went up around them.

Only one year passed before the courthouse saw its first major case. George Smiley was a railroad worker who, in a moment of extreme anger, murdered his foreman during an argument.

He was found guilty and sentenced to death by hanging, but the law had a peculiar clause stating that invitations must be sent out to other county sheriffs when a hanging was to occur. In a cheeky interpretation of the clause, the sheriff at the time, Frank Wattron, sent out formal, gilt-bordered invitations which read:

72 ROUTE Magazine

“his soul will be swung into eternity on December 8, 1899, at 3 o’clock p.m.

Sharp. Latest improved methods in the art of scientific strangulation will be employed, and everything possible will be done to make the surroundings cheerful and the execution a success.”

Word got out of what Wattron had done, and he was reprimanded by the state government. His mistake bought George Smiley a few more days, but soon after, Wattron, with his ever-dry sense of humor, sent out a second invitation with wording that was supposedly more polite, and Smiley was hanged outside the courthouse—the first and only hanging ever to occur there.

Because of all the drama surrounding the hanging, or perhaps because of a bona-fide haunting, it has long been rumored that Smiley’s ghost still roams around the courthouse, along with the ghost of a woman who died in one of the jail cells in 1959, and whose story has since been embellished quite a bit.

Fox has never witnessed any apparitions in the courthouse, but she does have an idea of where the stories may have come from.

“In 2011, someone had the idea of conducting ghost tours, which we did for three years,” she explained. “During that time, a chair was broken, several items went missing from our bookshop, and the final year a young boy who was spooked probably by someone pulling his hair or tapping his shoulder, ran down the stairs and almost took a tumble.

Are there ghosts in the courthouse? Some may say yes, but we don’t allow searches, overnight stays, or any other formal investigations.”

Despite the supposed lack of paranormal activity, there’s still plenty to see and do in the old courthouse, which was decommissioned in 1976 and has since been turned into a museum. Holbrook has a long, tumultuous history, and plenty of remnants are still on display. The courthouse even has an original jail cell that visitors can enter to experience outlaw life firsthand. Apart from the courthouse and museum, visitors can explore the nearby Petrified Forest National Park, or go and check out one of the nearby historic homes.

Holbrook has come a long way since its gun-slinging, Hashknife Outfit days. But, ghosts or no ghosts, the friendly Route 66 town has plenty to share with the inquisitive visitor, and it’s all there in the Old Navajo County Courthouse–the good, the bad, and the downright spooky.

Image by Efren Lopez/Route66Images.

N AVA J O C O U N T Y

EXPERIENCE THE AT GRAND CANYON WEST

$

59

GENERAL ADMISSION & SKYWALK EXPERIENCE

Visit GrandCanyonWest.com or call 888-868-WEST to Learn More!

Visit our website to learn more about our COVID-19 safety protocols.

(Skywalk Experience prices valid through 2021. Other restrictions may apply.)

ROUTE Magazine 73

T

hese days, the phrase “Route 66” usually conjures up images of classic cars tooling down a historic highway, their occupants leisurely taking in the sights. Picturesque stretches of curved road winding around sleepy towns seem innocuous. But once upon a time, it wasn’t all sweetness and light on the Mother Road. That slender ribbon of pavement carried heavy traffic – trucks delivering goods, everyday folks going to work, and emergency vehicles trying to get past all the rest. Passing a line of traffic on a narrow two-lane highway was a deadly risk. Worse yet were the sudden sharp curves that seemed to appear out of nowhere to a driver unfamiliar with the road. No wonder this storied highway was known for decades as “Bloody 66.”

Crashes were numerous and wrecks often fatal.

Due to the propensity of early highway engineers to follow land section lines in their road-building, sharp turns weren't uncommon. Neither were the wrecks that ensued. And so, there are many Dead Man’s Curves in America, including a few on Route 66. One in New Mexico between Tijeras and Albuquerque is located on what is now known as State Road 333. Another, known as “Dead Man’s Corner,” is located a few miles west of the old railroad town of Afton, Oklahoma.

A similar corner in Edwardsville, Illinois, caused drivers who couldn’t make the sudden turn to land in neighborhood backyards.

One “Bloody 66” site was the dangerous turn named Dead Man’s Curve at the northern edge of sleepy little Towanda, Illinois. Only a few minutes outside of Bloomington-Normal, this village is home to about 500 residents. Most days now, it's awfully quiet there, except for the gas station near the interstate ramp. But this village has a dark history with a once-busy stretch of the Mother Road.

Ironically, Towanda’s “death curve” – today, just local streets – now appears to wrap around the modern station that is the center of much village activity.

“The original Route 66 began in Chicago and worked its way southwest... to Towanda in 1926,” said Fred Walk, a professor at Illinois State University, retired high school

74 ROUTE Magazine

teacher, and founder of the Route 66 Parkway, a landscaped stretch of original Route 66 at Towanda. “It was just a two-lane road, [with] one lane going north, one lane going south, and the entire road was only 18 feet wide, both lanes combined. So, you can imagine, it’s pretty narrow.”

As construction of the Mother Road neared towns and cities, in some cases, the road-builders created a bypass to go around the town instead of heading straight through it. “In the case of Towanda, imagine your road is going straight, and then it takes a 45-degree angle curve [to] swing around the village,” Walk explained. “Then it would curve and come back once it got around the town and continue heading in a straighter direction.” The bypass curves were extremely treacherous for motorists who didn’t know the road and hit the 90-degree turn at fairly high speeds, not knowing what was ahead.

“Drivers from the Chicago area that weren’t used to driving [Route 66] knew nothing [about] the road. Not knowing the conditions, there were many accidents that occurred at this curve,” said Walk. “There were people who were killed [here], hence the name Dead Man’s Curve.” This particular Dead Man’s Curve happened to have a house dangerously near it in its earlier days. “[The house] was run into on a number of occasions. And the guy finally decided, this is not a good place for a house, and he relocated [it],” laughed Walk.

“In 1954, Route 66 was expanded. They created a four-lane Route 66 with two lanes going north, two lanes going south with a median strip in between. When they did that, they essentially rounded off Dead Man’s Curve [so it] wasn’t nearly as sharp [and was] more of a gradual curve.” The curved roadway then became largely used by local traffic.

Today, you can still drive a piece of that old roadway if you jog off historic U.S. 66 and turn on Jackson Street to experience the curve into Quincy Street. Just below that is the much gentler curve of the later alignment encapsulated in the Route 66 Parkway, a linear park that accommodates walkers and cyclists. Once upon a time, traveling down Route 66 was perhaps a little less safe, but the adventure that the journey offers today is still the same unforgettable one of yesteryear.

Image by David J. Schwartz – Pics On Route 66.

DEAD MAN’S CURVE

Very small.

Very friendly.

Very Route 66.

Atlanta | Lincoln | Elkhart Logan County Tourism Bureau DestinationLoganCountyIL.com 217-732-8687

ROUTE Magazine 75

A BEND in 76 ROUTE Magazine

n the BRIDGE Photograph byby David J. J. Schwartz - Pics On Route 6666 Opening image David Schwartz - Pics On Route ROUTE Magazine 77

W

ith the Mississippi River being one of the largest dividing lines across the United States, naturally any national highway would have to cross it. In fact, throughout its life as an active highway, Route 66 crossed the boundary between Illinois and Missouri no fewer than four different times. The first crossing, in 1926, was via what is now known as the McKinley Bridge. Three years later, the Mother Road was rerouted over the Municipal Bridge, known today as the MacArthur Bridge. In 1936, it was rerouted again across the Chain of Rocks Bridge, and then it traveled across a pair of parallel bridges called the Veterans Memorial Bridge and Eads Bridge in 1954. Out of all of these crossings, it is the Chain of Rocks Bridge that has stood the test of time and implanted itself in the wonder of people all over the world.

This cantilever through-truss bridge was conceived in 1927

by Baxter L. Brown, an engineer from St. Louis, Missouri.

Commissioned by a private association known as the Chainof-Rocks and Kingshighway Bridge Company, the assignment was to build a highway over the mighty Mississippi near the rocky shoals—called the Chain of Rocks, which became the namesake for the Bridge—just north of St. Louis.

“They called [the shoals] the Chain of Rocks because the rocks there step down, [creating] waterfalls, and it was pretty amazing,” said Stephanie Tate, Marketing Communications Director at Great Rivers & Routes Tourism Bureau. “There were also some water intake towers placed in the river at about that point by the City of St. Louis, and that’s how they gathered their water for the city.”

These intake towers—built in 1894 with gothic, castle-like architecture, making them attractions in of themselves— became a point of contention for the construction of the bridge. River boaters argued against the proximity of the bridge to the towers, where travel by water was already treacherous enough. The planned straightaway also was compounded by another problem: a section of the river’s bedrock wasn’t strong enough to support the bridge’s pylons—a product of glacial movement from the last ice age.

“So, they had to make a little jog,” explained Tate, “a little dogleg in the bridge to put it over on substantial bedrock. And that gives it its unique character—it’s not a straight bridge, it’s a bridge with a [30-degree bend] halfway across.”

This sudden shift in trajectory escalated the bridge’s budget from the expected $1,250,000 to just over $2.5 million, close to $30 million in today’s money. Nevertheless, construction was completed, and it was officially opened in July of 1929, after floods and ice on the river deterred the original opening date of January 1st, 1929. Stretching one mile long from Chouteau Island, Madison, Illinois, to St. Louis, Missouri, the bridge currently stands more than 60 feet above the Mississippi River—high enough to keep it clear of the most treacherous floods.

Chain-of-Rocks and Kingshighway Bridge Co. expected to make their money back through the toll booths set up on either side of the bridge, but initial traffic didn’t hit their 78 ROUTE Magazine

numbers, and the bridge went bankrupt in 1931. The City of Madison bought the bridge for $2.3 million the following year— a move that preserved it long enough for the Mother Road to be directed across it in 1936. Thus, the bridge’s mark in history was established.

For the next 30 years, as the widest available river crossing, the Chain of Rocks Bridge did its job in shortening travel time between the states. On the Missouri side, the bridge was accented by the Chain of Rocks Park, a popular amusement park that attracted St. Louis patrons from 1927 to 1978. It would take until 1963, but eventually the Gateway Arch would join the view from the bridge downstream.

At only 24 feet in width, the tightness of the bridge, particularly at the bend, proved to be too dangerous for traffic over the years, influencing the decision to redirect Route 66 once more in 1954. The bridge became part of Bypass 66 instead, but it still tried to entice travelers by stopping the collection of tolls in August of 1957—the booths were eventually removed altogether when the federal government forbade tolls for all U.S. highways in 1966. By that time, however, even Bypass 66 had moved—to Interstate 270, which went on to host a newly-built bridge just 2,000 feet upstream of the Chain of Rocks Bridge, in 1967. The new bridge was also christened the Chain of Rocks Bridge—with the signifier “New” in front—leaving the Old Chain of Rocks Bridge named exactly that.

With nothing left to distinguish it except for its awkward shape, the Old Bridge finally closed for good by the turn of the decade. As it rusted throughout the ‘70s, the Army considered demolishing the bridge, but the dropped value of scrap steel made the prospect more costly than profitable, so it was spared. It only had one minor job during this period, as a filming site for John Carpenter’s 1981 movie, Escape from New York, starring Kurt Russell and Adrienne Barbeau.

Fortunately, the bridge’s luck finally turned around in 1995, when a privately funded group called Trailnet, under the direction of the St. Louis mayor, formed a planning committee to restore the Old Bridge for the purpose of making it a part of the Route 66 Bikeway. From 1996 to 1999, Trailnet collected funds from Waste Management, Inc., Edward Jones, the Intermodal Surface Transportation Equity Act, and even a $2 million grant by Senator Christopher Bond. The operation was ready to roll.

been a concern as the area isn’t monitored by security cameras like the Illinois side.

“We have been working for the past two years to design a new vision for the bridge on the Missouri side,” explained Anne Milford, Communications Coordinator of Great Rivers Greenway. “The focus of these improvements is to include public safety, security, sustainability—to create facilities for programs and events, and to the entry experience approaching the bridge. There’s landscaping [and] some other structures to be built, like security facilities. The construction will begin in late 2021 and will be completed in 2022.”

The Chain of Rocks Bridge has had a rocky history, but that history has resulted in its worldwide appeal today. From its massive, dog-legged span to its rise-and-fall story, mimicking the tide of the Mississippi, the bridge is proof that some things can’t be kept down, no matter how often they are battered or left in the dust. It is this impressive tenacity that ensures that the bridge will live on, offering expansive views of the wide Mississippi and inspiring road travelers for years to come.

ROUTE Magazine 79

Image by Jeff Hirsch.

“We contacted [an] engineering firm called Modjeski & Masters,” said Kevin Keach, the Project and Facilities Administrator at Trailnet. “And they identified some things we needed to, obviously, repair—the deck, which had a number of potholes in it—but we also had to do a lot of structural improvements [and] maintenance under it. We installed 10,000 linear feet of new railing so people couldn’t jump through the holes in the old railing. [The bridge] had a lot of lead in the paint, so we repainted and remediated the sections that people might be able to touch.”

On June 19, 1999, the Old Chain of Rocks Bridge reopened to the public, and by 2006 it was added to the National Register of Historic Places. No longer open to public traffic, the bridge is now free for pedestrians and bicyclists, for which the bend in the middle is not an obstacle, but instead a unique charm. Great Rivers Greenway, which leased the bridge in 2015, offers activities such as Eagle Day in January and an annual Route 66 Car Show. The Missouri side displays Route 66 memorabilia and interpretive signs, but safe parking has

M

El Garces Train Depot

B

M

ack in 1883, when Needles, California, was more a railroad junction than a town, and there was barely anywhere for tired workers to escape the brutal desert heat, a one-story wooden structure stuck out on the barren desert landscape. It was purely utilitarian, just four wooden walls at the meeting point of the Southern Pacific’s eastward line and Atchison, Topeka and Santa Fe (ATSF) Atlantic and Pacific Railroad. But, unbeknownst to anyone, this little building had a big life ahead of it.

After twenty years, a Harvey House was added to the tiny railway stop, as well as a second story with hotel rooms for passengers and staff. Despite the additions, the building still wouldn’t have demanded a second look–that is, until disaster struck in the most serendipitous way possible.

In 1906, flames engulfed the wooden structure, and it was burned to the ground. Where others might have seen disaster, the town of Needles saw opportunity.

Seizing the chance to create something that would bring people to Needles, the city dreamed up a train depot unlike any the American West had ever seen. They enlisted architect Francis W. Wilson to design a depot that would truly stand out, and he decided on a striking neoclassical style, with stately columns lining the front of the building.

His material of choice was cast-in-place concrete to temper the daytime heat and nighttime cold, so that guests could feel comfortable despite the desert extremes. The city paid a pretty penny for the building–all in all, it cost $250,000 (today, over 5 million dollars) to construct.

And like a phoenix, the El Garces Train Depot and Hotel emerged from the ashes of the tiny wooden depot.

It opened for business on April 3, 1908. Known at the time as “the crown jewel” of the Harvey House network, the restaurant, hotel, and train station was an instant hit. With its elegant architecture and spacious green lawn, the El Garces quickly became a city center of sorts–even more so after Route 66 was constructed right at its doorstep.

“It just holds such a special place to everybody in Needles,” said Jan Jernigan, a local historian and lifetime Needles resident whose business group helps with restoration and maintenance of the El Garces. “Needles is a railroad town, it always has been, and it always will be. My dad worked on [the railroad] for 42 years, and I have six 80 ROUTE Magazine

nephews currently working for BNSF. The El Garces… in its heyday, we would walk down and meet my dad at the station, and tribal members were selling jewelry and their beadwork down there, sitting on blankets. It was just a warm spot. It was the center of the town.”

Even after the Harvey Company moved out of the El Garces in 1949, it remained an important community gathering spot and rail station for some time. Passenger trains ran through the station, bringing tourists from near and far to the Route 66 town. Like many old buildings, however, it slowly fell into disrepair. By 1993, the building was up for demolition.

But for the community of Needles, demolition was simply not an option—as Jernigan said, “Everybody in Needles pretty much has had some connection with the railroad,” and by extension, with the El Garces itself. There was too much Needles history in those concrete columns to allow them to be knocked down. And so, the city purchased the building for just one dollar, and a committee was formed to lead the charge on its restoration.

The restoration process was tougher than expected, and there were some unfortunate discoveries along the way, such as asbestos in the upper floor. The project shrunk in scope as the city realized how costly it would be to restore the building in its entirety, and so for now, only the Amtrak station has been brought back to its former glory. Slowly but surely, however, donations roll in, and bit by bit, life returns to other parts of the depot.

Restoration of the building itself may be slow, but the people of Needles keep the depot lively as ever. “We work with two museums, so we do two tours on a regular basis,” said Jernigan. “People love seeing that, and [they also love] when we have events there. Three years ago, we had a Route 66 information and history fair. And in a matter of six hours, we had 250 people go through there. It was quite an event for Needles.”

Although the depot is still a work in progress, it draws in countless locals and out-of-towners daily looking for a spot to relax or learn about Needles’ rich past. Looking at the El Garces, one thing is impossible to deny: that the people of Needles have a love for their history that runs as deep as the Mojave is wide.

PULA’ FAST ONE. Get ready to stop and grab a selfie. Our iconic

33-mile stretch of historic Route 66 is filled with photo-ops like the new 8-foot Route 66 shield in Waynesville, the old Gascozark Café south of Richland, and this 1923 steel truss bridge over the Big Piney. Plus, with over 60 stops and 100+ eateries, St. Robert, Missouri, is the perfect spot to rest up during your Route 66 adventure through the heart of the Ozarks.

Plan your trip at PulaskiCountyUSA.com.

ROUTE Magazine 81

SUB S CR I BE NOW ROUTE ROUTE ROUTE THE MAGAZINE THAT CELEBRATES ROAD TRAVEL, VINTAGE AMERICANA AND ROUTE 66

Magazine

THE MAGAZINE THAT CELEBRATES ROAD TRAVEL, VINTAGE AMERICANA AND ROUTE 66

Magazine

ODYSSEY

Roadside Kitsch Alive and Well

THE MAGAZINE THAT CELEBRATES ROAD TRAVEL, VINTAGE AMERICANA AND ROUTE 66

Magazine

Wigwam Mania

The Rise and Fall of Wigwam Villages

Our Picks for Best Dining on 66

Desert Terror

When You Should be Afraid!

A SELDOM SEEN SIDE OF THE MOTHER ROAD, IN PICTURES $5.99

+

$5.99

NEW LEASE ON LIFE FOR RAILCARS IN THE SOUTHWEST THE STORIED TALE OF DODGE CITY’S EL VAQUERO

The Americana Issue

$5.99

+

THE GREEN BOOK | THE MYSTERIOUS PYTHIAN CASTLE ARTIST TINA MION

ROUTE Magazine i

ROUTE Magazine i

ROUTE ROUTE ROUTE THE MAGAZINE THAT CELEBRATES ROAD TRAVEL, VINTAGE AMERICANA AND ROUTE 66

THE MAGAZINE THAT CELEBRATES ROAD TRAVEL, VINTAGE AMERICANA AND ROUTE 66

Magazine

THE AMERICANA ISSUE $5.99

ROUTE Magazine i

Magazine

The Journey of the Wagon Wheel Motel

$5.99

The Saviour of Atlanta

+

MICHAEL J. FOX: STILL OPTIMISTIC

THE MAGAZINE THAT CELEBRATES ROAD TRAVEL, VINTAGE AMERICANA AND ROUTE 66

THE DREAM, THE DECLINE, AND THE RESURGENCE

THE ROUTE 66 STORY

Magazine

ICON JAMES WOODS TAKES US ON A JOURNEY THROUGH HIS LIFE AND DOWN THE MOTHER ROAD $5.99

+

A FAMILY TRADITION: FUNKS GROVE MOTEL SAFARI: HOSPITALITY NEW MEXICAN STYLE

ROUTE Magazine i

www.routemagazine.us

ROUTE

82 ROUTE Magazine

VISIT CARTHAGE beautifully historic

www.visitcarthage.com ROUTE Magazine 83

PARTING SHOT

Amanda DAVIS What is the most memorable place you’ve visited on Route 66?

The Coleman Theatre. Most famous or noteworthy person you have ever met? Ben Affleck and Rachel McAdams.

I got to sit across from them both during a lunch break.

What characteristic do you respect the most in others? Trust & Personality. Dislike in others? People that don’t like football.

What characteristic do you dislike in yourself? I try to do too much. Talent that you WISH you had?

Graphic design. Best part about getting older?

Watching my kids excel in what they do.

What is your greatest extravagance?

I have a serious purse and shoe problem. What makes Miami, Oklahoma, so special to Route 66 enthusiasts? Our location and rich tradition of the old road. I also believe our hospitality is pretty special. What do you consider your greatest achievement? The role I play as mom, wife, sister, and daughter. Most memorable person on Route 66? Dr. Ron Gilbert. He was the grandfather of tourism in Miami, Oklahoma. Last book you’ve read? The Energy Bus by John Gordon. What is still on your bucket list to visit? I want to take my kids to Washington, DC. What movie title best describes your life?

The Fast & Fierce. Ghost town or big city person? I grew up in a ghost town (Picher, OK). Totally a small-town girl!

84 ROUTE Magazine

What does a perfect day look like to you? Anywhere I can be with my husband & kids. What is your favorite place on Oklahoma’s stretch of Route 66? Ribbon Road in Miami, OK. Strangest stop on Oklahoma’s Route 66? The Totem Pole. Seriously. What would your spirit animal be? Butterfly. Which historical figure — alive or dead — would you most like to meet? Barbara Bush.

If you won the lottery, what is the first item you would buy? Beach House in Destin, Florida. What food item can you not live without? Chips & Salsa.

Bizarre talent that you have that most people don’t know about? I could totally call offense or defense for a football team. Love the sport! What surprises you most about people? Their failure to listen to learn.

What makes you laugh? My husband Chad. He’s my person! Most unknown (but shouldn’t be) stop in Miami? Our CVB Visitor Center, located in the Coleman Theatre. We have FREE stuff and we LOVE to meet new visitors. What do you think is the most important life lesson for someone to learn? Good people bring out the good in people! What is one thing you have always wanted to try, but have been too afraid to?

Start my own business and work from home. What do you want to be remembered for? My love for family and God. Best time of the year to visit Miami, Oklahoma?

Everyday!

Illustration: Jennifer Mallon.

Oklahoma is home to the longest stretch of Route 66 in the country with more than ��� miles. It is home to the Blue Whale of Catoosa, Ed Galloway’s Totem Pole Park, not one but two world class Route 66 museums, and its small town of Miami (pronounced ‘My-am-uh’) is the place to be to enjoy the last of the Ku-Ku Burger restaurants remaining in the nation, the famed Coleman Theatre, and the iconic nine-foot wide Ribbon Road, that was once part of historic Route 66. The enthusiastic person behind the quaint town’s tourism expertly represents Miami’s welcoming past and present.

In this issue, we get to know Amanda Davis.

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.®

86 ROUTE Magazine