Tucumcari’s Tee Pee

By Nick Gerlich Photographs by David J. Schwartz - Pics On Route 66

TUCUMCARI’S TEE PEE

Somewhere between the 100th and 103rd meridian, a magical thing happens. While scholars and road warriors alike are divided as to the exact location, whether it be where Oklahoma runs smack into Texas, or where Texas dead ends at New Mexico, it is where the

Southwest begins.

Goodbye South and its lush greenery. Hello mesas and buttes, earthen hues, and dry, warm air. Trees are over-rated anyway. The Southwest, with all its myth and legend, is what

Mother Road travelers have sought for decades, whether along the road of hope during the Dust Bowl, in the postwar urgency to road trip into the great unknown, or in the modern era of nostalgia.

Stir in some Native American trinkets and curiosities, and you have the makings for a delicious stew that is perhaps best enjoyed inside of a teepee.

Curiosities For Everyone

Decades ago, during the heyday of Route 66, one of the era’s most successful marketing campaigns between Chicago and Santa Monica was hatched, just 35 miles into the Land of Enchantment. “Tucumcari Tonight,” the billboards and literature cried out. It was extremely effective, because the three pillars of tourism—gas, food, and lodging—were often separated by many miles in the Southwest. Travelers had to be careful to plan their daily mileages, lest they wind up on the side of the road.

It made sense for towns to pull themselves together for the collective good by bundling their services. And once people had set their minds on bedding down in Tucumcari, the fuel and food were soon to follow.

What we know today as Tee Pee Curios opened in 1944 at 924 East Tucumcari Boulevard (then known as Gaynell). At the time, Route 66 was only a two-lane road funneling travelers from the east and west. From its humble beginnings as a Gulf gas station doing business as Leland’s Groceries, Meats, and Curios, its evolution into purveyor of all things Southwest did not happen until about a decade later. In 1944, there were only a few scattered businesses along this stretch of Route 66. The Blue Swallow had broken ground diagonally to the northwest only a few years earlier in 1939, and a couple of other courts had gone up in the early-40s, but otherwise, this was most definitely the edge of town.

If ever there were an “at the right time,” this was it. Rationing during the war, though, meant that regardless of being in the right place, the tourism trade was low for the time being. Jack Rittenhouse, in his post-war 1946 A Guide Book To Highway 66, noted that Tucumcari had a population of 6,194, featured “stores; cafes; all accommodations,” and perhaps the best endorsement ever, “Tucumcari is quite a tourist center.” Tucumcari had already started to emerge from the rations and restrictions of the war era with motorists taking to the road once more.

Yes, times were getting better, and Leland’s was poised to benefit from not only local traffic, but from the growing number of people motoring west after the troops returned home. It was not until 1959, though, when Tucumcari Boulevard was widened, that threat became opportunity. The extra eastbound lane meant that the gas pumps and awning had to go. However, rather than shutter the business, the building was repurposed. A wide front window was moved west to where the auto repair bay had been located, and then an entirely new entryway was fashioned with the likeness of a larger-than-life teepee as facade.

In that same year, Jene Klaverweiden took over. The shop was then renamed Tee Pee Curios, a name that to some may sound more kitsch than kindred to the area. Nothing could be farther from the truth, though. While teepees and other artifacts of Native American life have been appropriated by many as commercial tropes far afield from where they originated, the Apache, and later Comanche, did indeed reside in teepees on the high plains of eastern New Mexico.

The Comancheria would approve. This was no trope; it was homage.

Klaverweiden, who died in 1998, was also once mayor of Tucumcari. He installed the iconic neon sign around 1960 (which oddly spells the name “Tepee”), and later sold the business in 1985 to his nephew, Mike Callens, and his wife, Betty. It was during the Callenses’ ownership that Tee Pee Curios was one of three Tucumcari businesses chosen to receive a federal grant to restore their neon signs. Mike rolled up his sleeves and painted it himself.

T is for Tokom

It’s easy to know when you’re getting close to Tucumcari, thanks to the likewise-named mesa to the south of town that stands 600 feet taller. As is typical of western towns, a large “T” has been painted on large rocks that were gathered and shaped by local residents.

Founded in 1901 as Ragtown, it marked the coming of the Chicago, Rock Island and Pacific Railway. But because

Gar Engman and Mike Callens smile behind the counter of the Tee Pee Curio shop.

lawlessness was rampant, it quickly became known as Six Shooter Siding. It wasn’t until 1908 that it was renamed Tucumcari, an opportunistic moment if ever for town promoters.

Rather than simply explain the somewhat clunky anglicization of the Comanche word tukamukaru (which means “to lie in wait”), a delectable yarn was spun in which love and death befall a young Apache couple, Tokom and Kari. While the Apache did have a presence in these parts centuries ago, it is the Comanche for whom the area is best known. Still, it is a great story.

And it’s a story that has almost rivaled “Tucumcari Tonight” for marketability. Too bad the freeway was finished in 1981, because that forever redirected traffic around the other side of town, sending population and commerce on a slow downward spiral.

New Blood at the Tee Pee

The Callenses carried on what was then a multi-generational family business until 2013, when Gar Engman and his now ex-wife Heidi arrived from Fort Dodge, Iowa. Looking to start a new chapter in their lives, they had returned to live in a town they had previously fallen in love with, knowing that Mr. Callens was by that time seeking to step down.

They bought the curio shop in a heartbeat, with Gar trading in his commercial painting career for retail, and Heidi handling the social media as she had done at her former job in Iowa. Today, Gar is chief of the business, and has weathered the pandemic much the same as Native American predecessors overcame hardship.

Engman has embraced his role as retailer along the Mother Road, building on what he acquired. Upon passing through

the teepee-shaped doorway, it is easy to be overcome with a feeling that this is vintage New Mexico. Hatch chiles, hot air balloons, and popular television shows may paint people’s impressions of the state today, but inside Tee Pee Curios it’s as if 1959 has never ended.

Authentic Native American pottery adorns shelves to the side. Several glass cases with motorized shelves that rotate are filled with silver, turquoise, and other gems and minerals; the shop is packed with New Mexican craftsmanship. Ceramic trivets and other artifacts made in-state aid and abet the effort to craft a truly enchanting retail experience. Elsewhere, common Route 66 souvenirs lie waiting just in case travelers haven’t already purchased them earlier on their trip.

Behind the array of glass display cases, Engman stands smiling, waiting to escort visitors back in time. “Always in the back of my mind, I knew I wanted to do Route 66,” he said. “When the Cars movie came out in 2006, that’s what triggered me. From then on I just fell in love with all of Route 66.”

He just didn’t know that he would wind up owning a piece of it. “In the past as a younger child and adult, I did see and admire some cross sections of Route 66 in Illinois and Missouri. I saw a little in California as a nine-yearyear old,” Engman recalled. “The inspiration to finally travel Route 66 came from the movie.” This propelled Engman to take annual odysseys along 66. “I did Route 66 every year after that. It was such a blessing not to be on a time frame.” He traveled alone without an agenda, other than following all the old road that he could. In the process, he fell in love with the desert in the Southwest. “I was taken away by Route 66 on my very first trip. I play no favorites!” he related with relish. “It was all exciting to me. I visited as many museums, relics, and landmarks as I could on a 10-day trip.” Interestingly, Engman had not gotten to know Callens until 2012. One day on that year’s trip, he dropped in and found Callens at the shop. The two got talking and Callens, then 65, shared that he was wanting to retire. “So, it’s for sale?” Engman asked. Callens replied, “Yep.” Engman gave him his business card, and before leaving town, said, “I’m interested.” The Tee Pee was one iconic stop that he could never catch open. He had visited other icons, like the Jack Rabbit Trading Post in Arizona, so he set his sights on landing a similar landmark along the highway. Suddenly, his dream was in reach. A year later in June 2013, when Engman returned to Tucumcari with his then-bride, he stopped by to see Callens and follow up. Callens remembered him. “You gave me your card,” he said. From there the pair talked more, and by August 1st the deal was complete. The Callens were helpful in the transition period, offering help and information as needed. “I fell in love with meeting customers and hearing their stories,” Engman continued. “I came here and saw the potential.” It was a bit different coming to Tucumcari from the north, but not too challenging of a change. “The history and the diversity down here… I just love it. It has been a very pleasant change from life in the Midwest.”

Besides, Tucumcari was somewhat of a step up for Engman. “I grew up in a small town of only 1,000 people. So, this wasn’t a big adjustment. Tucumcari actually had more amenities,” he said with a laugh.

Career changes can often be difficult, especially one that involves leaving the predictability of a steady trade for the ambiguities and uncertainties of retail. Engman may have been a consumer his entire life, but he knew nothing about having to serve them. Fortunately, though, all he had to do was show up and be willing to learn.

“I walked into a turnkey operation. I didn’t have to start from scratch.”

“The teepee facade, murals on the building, and the monstrous skeleton standing on a truck bed also make for some great photo/selfie opportunities,” said David Brenner, owner of Roadrunner Lodge across the street, attesting to the fact that many of the local businesses benefit from the shop’s unique offerings.

But for Engman, it is all part of the visitor experience. “I put the kitschy stuff outside like the skeleton on the truck. People stop and want to see what’s going on. I have a lot of people come in and say, ‘We’ve been to a lot of gift shops, and they’re all the same. But when we walk into yours, it’s different. You have stuff that nobody else has.’”

Tucumcari’s story is not unlike that of many other towns along Route 66. After the coming of the freeway, businesses along 66 often died a swift, painful death. But while the town has its share of vacant properties, it is also a microcosm of hope.

A small but resilient nucleus of business owners along the Boulevard have not only survived, they’ve even thrived in the era of Mother Road nostalgia. Tee Pee Curios is a vital part of that group, and Connie Loveland, Director of the Tucumcari Main Street Program, is quick to point out the symbiotic relationship her downtown organization has with the businesses along 66. By promoting both parts of town, the goal is to get people to stay a little longer and spend a little more.

“Tucumcari seems to be coming around,” Engman affirmed.

“It seems to me that Mr. Callens, along with many other business owners, were doing everything they could to hang on,” said Loveland. But now many businesses in town are doing well, including the Tee Pee. “They have made their businesses into destinations in their own right,” Loveland continued.

“A few more people will pull off the highway and drive through town than if it [the curio shop] wasn’t there, for sure,” said Brenner. “And when they do, they see some of the other fantastic shops, restaurants, and classic accommodations in Tucumcari.”

Gar Engman welcomes customers into his shop, along with his furry friend.

Eight and Counting

Although Engman has only been in Tucumcari for eight years, he has quickly become a proud local. He’ll show you a framed photo of the station taken in the 1940s and bring out a binder full of vintage postcards of Tucumcari motels. He has made not only the curio shop his, but the town as well. They’re both in his blood now. Engman, too, has become a big part of the brand that is Tee Pee Curios. Often, people stop to see him as much as they do to look at the souvenirs. During his eight years managing the shop, he has witnessed a revival in Tucumcari as well as among nostalgia-hungry travelers. Tucumcari still has its challenges, like most other small towns along 66, but it continues to do well in spite of these. More important than the changes Engman has seen around him, is how 66 and Tucumcari have changed him. Here’s a man who had a well-established career but gave it up to respond to an opportunity far outside his comfort zone and geographic roots. “Tucumcari has made me more laid back,” Engman reflected, “and it has some wonderful people. It was an adjustment, of course, but there’s a lot more people starting to work together. We can all relate and help each other.” It took seven years from the release of the Cars movie, taking annual pilgrimages up and down 66, and ultimately buying Tee Pee Curios, for everything to come together in the present. It has all sunk in now for Engman, and he can wistfully look back in the rear-view mirror to see where the road led him. “In the long run it’s made me happier. Now that I’m on it [66], I’m loving it,” said Engman. The magic of the Southwest, it turns out, is still there. And for many visitors and residents alike, it’s 1959 once more.