41 minute read
Americana’s Finest
By Cheryl Eichar Jett
AMERICANA’S FINEST
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The 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, 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.
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 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 acquired manager and Georgia pecan grower R.G. Lamar, who became the new company president.
And what would grandfather Sylvester have to say now? “I wish I knew. I was 12 when he died, and I think about 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 to his spirit of entrepreneurship. I like to say that Stuckey’s is an 80-year-old startup. I really do think like a startup, because that’s what we are doing, we are re-imagining the company. In many ways, I’m going back to how we were when we started in 1937, the roadside stand when we were selling pecans. We’re back to selling pecans, we’re back to shelling pecans, we’re back to making our own candy. I’m doing some of the things he did, but what I’m running now is not the same company that he sold in 1964. I think he would also get a real kick out of knowing that I bought this candy plant in Wrens, Georgia, right across from an old Stuckey’s store, and the plant I bought was run by a man named Atwell of Atwell Pecans. My grandfather did business with Mr. Atwell, so I think he would like it.”
The Rebound
Grandfather Sylvester would most definitely like it. There are now 65 franchised locations, and a distribution center in Stuckey’s hometown of Eastman, Georgia. A pecan processing and candy plant produces their own Stuckey’s branded products. An online business picks up where the mail-order catalogs once left off, and about 200 retailers sell Stuckey’s pecan snacks and candies. A branding refresh this year will make things look new again with the traditional 1940s logos. And the new logo says it all — “We make road trips fun.” There’s a lot to like.
The word about Stuckey’s return to roadside glory is getting around. Business journals and major newspapers have published feature stories. Tim Hollis, author of numerous books about Southeastern US media and attractions, combed
Stephanie Stuckey in Marietta, OK. through collectors’ memorabilia plus various company archives to write and publish a book in 2017 entitled simply Stuckey’s. In an era of road trip revival, when the past is honored and kitsch is cool, Stuckey’s fits right into the mix.
A Plaque Marks the Site
The first Stuckey’s gift shop building still stands on US Highway 23 — Oak Street — right across the road from the tidy-looking mom-and-pop Eastman Motel. It’s currently empty, time-worn, and vintage-shabby, although the original candy plant and other buildings behind it have housed warehouse space and local businesses. Out in front stands an impressive plaque commemorating Mr. and Mrs. W. S. Stuckey and their establishment of the legendary Stuckey’s. One could look at this old building with its faded blue roof and easily see it as symbolic of the Stuckey’s decline during the late twentieth century. But the thing is, it’s also a significant reminder of the amazing success that Sylvester Stuckey built during the MidCentury from such modest beginnings. Just think of all those family station wagons up and down America’s highways that pulled up to an iconic Stuckey’s roadside location, to get gas, select souvenirs and sweets, and maybe have breakfast or a sandwich. The familiar teal roof and the Texaco flag flying out front signaled the first and the best in terms of travel services. But now, in many locations across the US, the modern tourist can once again stop at a travel store and find Stuckey’s products. An iconic Pecan Log Roll, just like Ethel used to make. Maybe a rubber alligator or the Red Drinking Bird for Aunt Betty. Certainly, a bag of Georgia pecans for snacking during the next leg of the trip. And, just like the Stuckey’s mail-order catalog of yesteryear, fans can now order goodies online. You can still get your own piece of America’s national treasure—Stuckey’s. It’s there waiting for you, where the romance of the road and the needs of everyday life collide in the classic American road trip.
DESERT SOLITAIRE
Edward 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.
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.
Haunting in NAVAJO COUNTY
Holbrook, 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: “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.
DEAD MAN’S CURVE
These 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 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.
A BEND in
in the BRIDGE
With 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 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.
“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 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.
M El Garces Train Depot
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Back 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 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.
Amanda DAVIS
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.
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! 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!