ROUTE June / July 2020

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

Magazine

Wanderlust The Story of the American Road Trip

Funky Seligman Place of the Popes

Wonderfully Unexpected The Mother Road in Pictures June/July 2020 $5.99

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THE MANY FACES OF ADRIAN’S MIDPOINT CAFE LOU DIAMOND PHILLIPS TALKS TEXAS AND ROUTE 66 ROUTE Magazine i

Oklahoma City Museum of Art American Banjo Museum

THE MODERN FRONTIER

When your heart is nudging you to hit the open road, follow it and discover a city that's wide open with possibility.

Oklahoma City's stretch of Route 66 promises an experience that's alive with adventure and a welcome that's genuinely warm. ii ROUTE Magazine

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POPS — Arcadia, Oklahoma 700+ soda flavors, delicious diner food and a 66-ft, glowing pop bottle make POPS an iconic stop.

Ed Galloway’s Totem Pole Park — Home to the world’s largest concrete totem pole, this Chelsea park is a colorful folk-art paradise.

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Blue Whale of Catoosa —

You’ll feel anything but blue when you meet Catoosa’s gentle giant, a massive whale built in 1972.

Cyrus Avery Centennial Plaza —

Bronze statues depict various modes of travel from the past and present at this Route 66 midpoint in Tulsa.

Discover more legendary landmarks along Route 66 at Travel

El Reno Mother Road Monument — Nestled where the Chisholm Trail and Rock Island Railroad meet, it’s a fine spot to snap a family photo.

.com.

Lucille’s Roadhouse —

Known for its 1950s décor and chicken fried steak, this Weatherford diner is a quintessential Route 66 experience.

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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

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WE’RE

THAN ONE DAY

Get the full picture at visitspringfieldillinois.com/ ExplorerPassports

GallupRealTrue.com ROUTE Magazine 5

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 painted frog rock (known as WH Croaker by the locals), the old Gascozark Café, and this 1923 steel truss bridge over the Big Piney.

Plus, you’ll find some of the best chicken wings, craft beers and frog legs along the way.

Plan your trip at PulaskiCountyUSA.com.

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DISCOVER THE

STRETCH OF ROUTE 66 TOP 6 MUST-DOS* 1

Journey historic milestones with the Walk This Talk audio tour.

2

Visit the world-famous road house The Museum Club.

3

Cruise preserved stretches of authentic Route 66.

4

Enjoy the many restaurants, breweries and stores adorning the Mother Road.

5

Capture the perfect photo with a Mother Road mural or neon sign.

6

Stay at a motorcourt hotel!

Photo by Cameron Clark Photography

*When travel restrictions are lifted and partners are open.

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CONTENTS

Blue Swallow Motel, Tucumcari, NM, offers a plethora of color. Photograph courtesy of Mark Payler.

16 Under the Radar

By Heide Brandes The small, quirky town of Seligman, Arizona, is well known for its campy attractions and over-the-top antics, but few people know the story of one of the town’s most influential families and their journey to reinvigorate Seligman’s wonderful stretch of Mother Road. Meet the Popes.

26 Don’t Make Me Pull Over!

In this fun, informative article, author Richard Ratay carries us through the development of early road travel, reminding us of what life once looked like on America’s two-lane highways.

Ratay’s story weaves in personal experiences and wacky family memories that shine light on the golden age of road travel.

32 66 on Two Wheels

By Ahlanna Camber Seaba Station sits humbly along a quiet stretch of Oklahoma’s Mother Road, patiently waiting for visitors with a passion for motorcycles and classic Americana to pop in and pay them a visit. But as you will realize, this destination is a must-stop with a great story of its own, so whether you are into bikes or not, this tale is tantalizing.

38 Every Day on 66 travelers come face to face

with some of the country’s most fantastic Americana: bright neon, classic diners, kitschy attractions, giants of all sorts… photographer Mark Payler captures a glimpse of some of the magic that waits for you out on America’s Main Street this summer.

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48 A Conversation with

Lou Diamond Phillips

By Brennen Matthews Undeniably one of film’s most familiar talents, Phillips hails from the great Mother Road state of Texas and has a delightful journey to share. Discover the true stories behind some of his most famous work like La Bamba and Young Guns and what his favorite stops are on Route 66 and in New Mexico.

60 Halfway There

There are a few household name cafés among the many that dot Route 66, but none are more respected than the Midpoint Cafe.

In this intriguing article, Nick Gerlich takes us on a trip through the decades and into the lives of a world-famous eatery and the many personalities who have made it what it is today.

72 San Diego: America’s Finest City

In this ‘Off the Route’ article we showcase some of our favorite venues and restaurants just down the coast from Route 66’s vibrant terminus.

ON THE COVER Valley of Fire State Park, Nevada.

Photograph by Maciej Bledowski / Alamy.

In 1889 a shot rang out.

A land run started.

And El Reno, Oklahoma would become the front door to the American West.

Photo courtesy of Canadian County Museum.

Historic El Reno, Oklahoma, where the glamour of Route 66 meets the Old West drama of the Chisholm Trail. Where the world’s largest fried onion hamburger is celebrated, and where you can ride a rail-based trolley through historic downtown. Nearby Fort Reno is home to the colorful U.S. Cavalry Museum, as well as the graves of Buffalo Soldiers, Indian scouts and World War II prisoners of war. For information, visit www.elrenotourism.com.

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EDITORIAL Several months ago, when I envisioned what my topic for this editorial would be – the big summer issue – the realities of what we have experienced over the past four months could not have been further from my mind. There was no way of knowing what was just at our doorstep; at what devastation and despair for both people and economies worldwide was on the way. To say that it has been a difficult 2020 thus far would be an understatement. The coronavirus has altered our very lives in ways that are unprecedented. However, that is not where our story ends ... not by a long shot.

As every year, summer heralds in an air of positivity, a time of hope and optimism.

This year is no different. As I write, many states are beginning to relax their lockdown orders and people are slowly, carefully, getting back to a little bit of normalcy. There is excitement to feel the sunshine again and we have been receiving thousands of messages, emails and social media comments from you, expressing your intention on hitting the highway this summer, of exhaling and breathing in some fresh, clean Route 66 air.

I am also planning on being on the road again this year and am chomping at the bit to start my journey and reconnect with classic America and friends along the fabled artery.

But as we do so, let us please remember to be mindful of our own safety and that of others. We are able to see the clearing but are not out of the woods just yet. It will take doctors and scientists some time to develop the medicine needed to get us to the end of this painful journey. As you travel, give yourselves and others a little extra space and be respectful of boundaries. We are all joined in this voyage together, and we need to enjoy Route 66 in a manner that ensures that the 2020 experience is a positive one.

In this issue, we take you across the Mother Road and introduce you to some amazing people who have enormously impacted not just how we get to enjoy the road, but have been the lifeforce and drive of their very towns. Everyone knows about the Midpoint Cafe and has been allured by the oddness of the Roadkill Cafe’s quirky concept, but in this issue, you will encounter the actual people who brought these iconic stops to life and the unexpected paths that led them there. Their voyage is a perfect example that the flight of life is seldom straightforward and carefully planned.

It is messy and exciting, and filled with potholes and opportunities.

There is a romance about heading down the highway on a motorcycle; the wind in your hair, the open road stretching out before you. Down in Warwick, Oklahoma, Jerry Ries can be found enthralling visitors with his knowledge of the vast collection of vintage bikes that his unanticipated attraction, Seaba Station, offers. But coming from an academic background as a schoolteacher, how did he end up there? The answer: on two wheels.

ROUTE is proud of our celebrity features. We are blessed to get to spend time with some of the most respected actors and musicians in the industry and always enjoy listening to their stories and experiences. For me personally, Lou Diamond Phillips was an inspiration when growing up. He was one of those familiar faces who represented characters that were honest and dependable, hardworking and cool.

Today, Phillips continues to forge ahead, and having just recently completed his own trip down America’s Main Street, he has plenty to talk about.

These and so many other stories fill our big summer issue.

When putting this issue together the whole team had one thing in mind: what adventures and tales will entice readers to venture out and explore America for themselves? What accounts will elicit a hunger to travel the country’s two-lane highways and come face-to-face with the nation’s unique diversity? I have heard many people complain that they could never spend “so much time in a car” or that they are not really interested in small town America. My response is always the same: get out and try it for yourselves and then decide. The open road has a way of getting under your skin and shaping your understanding of the country and its people. Get off of the interstate, stop looking for the generic and the expected and embrace whatever may come your way.

Diehard roadie or armchair traveler, in many ways, we were all born to explore.

Please visit us on Facebook, Twitter and Instagram and remember to like and follow us and why not subscribe today and never miss an issue. Just visit us on www.routemagazine.us.

Blessings, 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 ASSISTANT Alex J. Rodriguez Sarah DeLynn Cox Theresa Romano DIGITAL Matthew Alves ILLUSTRATOR Jennifer Mallon CONTRIBUTORS AND PHOTOGRAPHERS Ahlanna Camber Derek Yaniger Efren Lopez/Route66Images Heide Brandes Maciej Bledowski Manfred Baumann Mark Payler Matt Marcinkowski Richard Ratay Robert Reck Scribner

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.

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L A FON DA hen a place earns the title of ‘historic landmark’, it typically implies a sense of memoriam. Historic provokes an association with the past tense—of something preserved rather than animated. However, in Santa Fe, New Mexico, the renowned La Fonda Hotel brings a profound new meaning to the idea of ‘keeping history alive’.

Before opening as La Fonda in 1922, the property sitting on the corner of Santa Fe’s famous plaza served as the community’s premier lodging quarters since the early 19th Century, operating under such titles as the Santa Fe House, U.S. Hotel, and penultimately, the Exchange Hotel. Yet, with New Mexican statehood and rampant industrialization on the horizon, the Exchange Hotel thawed into a state of disrepair and was eventually deserted by 1919.

Fresh off the heels of World War I and looking to reimagine a new identity for the young state capital, local businessmen decided that Santa Fe needed a new flagship hotel. In an entertaining gesture of patriotism, they commissioned a “mudpuppy,” a small tank used during the war, to demolish the derelict hotel. “To [help] tear the building down, they had this idea that every time someone bought a $50 war bond, the tank would drive into the hotel,” explained La Fonda’s director of sales and de facto historian, Ed Pulsifer.

The razed property presented an opportunity for Santa Fe’s blossoming architecture scene to introduce its appeal. Throughout the next decade, celebrated architects like John Gaw Meem and Mary Colter added their virtuoso touch to the newly minted hotel. With its southwestern elegance illuminated by a distinct medley of western, adobe, and Spanish aesthetics, La Fonda quite literally defined the “Santa Fe Style” movement.

Despite its artful allure, poor management ran La Fonda into receivership by 1926, leading legendary entrepreneur Fred Harvey to acquire the hotel. By incorporating his fabled Harvey House business strategies and launching an excursion program with nearby Native communities (dubbed Indian Detours), Harvey laid the framework for La Fonda’s acclaim. However, these developments coincided with another influential moment in American history: the foundation of Route 66.

The original mapping of the route cut through the heart of Santa Fe, which prompted an exponential surge in tourism.

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“Now you have people coming by train, by car, [but] there weren’t enough hotel rooms in Santa Fe. So, from 1926-29 [La Fonda] expanded,” said Pulsifer. “So [Route 66] had a major impact on Santa Fe, bringing tens of thousands of people every year. You went from a quiet little capital with a hotel [in] receivership to [not] enough hotel rooms.

I would say that Route 66 was the one major thing that catapulted Santa Fe, really [making] it an incredible tourist destination.”

Even though Route 66 reoriented itself away from Santa Fe in 1938, the river of tourism forged by America’s Mainstreet never stopped flowing. La Fonda still receives thousands of guests from around the world and persists in championing Santa Fe’s storied past. “We really realize that we are the keepers of history,” said Rik Blyth, General Manager of the venue. “We can’t lose track that we have been Santa Fe’s living room right off the plaza for two hundred years.”

In 2015, Pulsifer implemented a docent program as a way to highlight La Fonda’s history as a signature element of the hotel.

These complimentary tours allow anyone— guest or not—to learn about the hotel’s narrative and view its vast collection of art, which includes over twelve-hundred collected works.

“We’ve got [original art] from the 20’s, and then throughout the [20th Century], different pieces were added. It’s such a juxtaposition because we’re trying to maintain a living, breathing, growing collection with contemporary artists as well,” emphasized Blythe.

La Fonda strives to merge its guests’ experience with the historical spirit of Santa Fe. “La Fonda has a soul and an energy to it that other hotels don’t have, you can feel it when you walk in, the world flocks to this hotel,” said Pulsifer. This electric atmosphere was birthed out of Route 66, whose footprint still traces itself along La Fonda. “It struck me that [Route 66] really ties into what we’re trying to do here… it’s a sense of place [and] history. The Mother Road is absolutely part of what Santa Fe and La Fonda are about,” remarked Blythe.

Few establishments are able to single handedly illustrate a community’s history within their walls; even fewer can claim that they continue to add to that narrative. For those wishing to enrich their Route 66 journey with some refined culture and history, look no further than La Fonda on the Plaza.

Photograph courtesy of Robert Reck.

W

A Living Legend on the Plaza

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YORK AND THE HUMANITY OF HISTORY

W

e tend to define history in terms of stories.

Some stories get overlooked and filtered-out from popular history because of circumstance or cultural bias, but this doesn’t negate their importance. One example of such a story originates from an African-American man, a slave of William Clark of the famous Lewis and Clark expedition.

Heralded as the foundational tale of the American West, the saga of Lewis and Clark has captivated the hearts and minds of countless Americans. As the story goes, America’s third president, Thomas Jefferson, dreamed of a westward expansion for his newly independent nation. His strategy, through the Louisiana Purchase, would grant the United States rights to France’s Louisiana Territory; a massive stretch of land spanning over 800,000 miles from New Orleans to the northern border of present-day Montana.

Meriwether Lewis, a trusted ex-army lieutenant, was to head the expedition deemed the “Corps of Discovery.” Lewis recruited his former second lieutenant, William Clark, to cocaptain the group. Clark in turn brought on a slave with the single title, York, bequeathed to William as his ‘playmate’ since childhood.

On May 14, 1804, the voyage officially kicked off in St. Louis, Missouri, a city that today boasts deep connections to both western expansion and Route 66.

The Corps spent the next two years traversing hundreds of miles by boat, horse, and foot, facing many perils brought by the unfamiliar and untamed geography.

Together with numerous acts of valor and bravery, the Corps preserved as a unit, eventually making it to the coast of what is now the state of Oregon by the winter of 1805. In 1806, they returned to St. Louis as the nation’s heroes, their accomplishments lauded and celebrated throughout American History.

However, York, the only man who didn’t volunteer for this epic journey, is often excluded from this great western fable. According to Clark’s journal entries, York’s role in the expedition contributed much to its success. Not only did he assist in hunting for much needed food, scouted for trails and waterways - he could swim, where several of the men could not - and cared for the sick. He also built relationships with Native Americans who viewed his darker skin as a sign of someone who was valued, trusted, and enlightened. While many of his contributions are peppered throughout Clark’s journals, York and his significant role in the first exploration of the American West remains virtually unknown.

One person who believes in the power of York’s narrative is Hasan Davis. Davis was drawn to the story of York while investigating historical figures to portray in his career as a 14 ROUTE Magazine

“Living History” performer. “[When] I first started researching York, all I could find were those pseudo-historical [accounts] where Lewis and Clark were the brave heroes of America and York [was] the loyal slave shuffling behind,” he explained.

“Then I [studied] the primary sources and realized that I needed to strip [the story] down. I started looking at the journals of the expedition themselves, and what really struck me was that there’s [an estimated] million words of text associated with all the journals of the Lewis and Clark expedition, but not one time did [the expedition members] split into any stereotypical, derogatory, or racists statements about what York was to them and how important he was to the mission. That really [showed] me this is a story that should be told,” he remarked.

Davis holds many titles: author, educator, justice reformer, but he remains especially proud of the 25 years he’s spent touring the country as a one man show, illustrating history through York’s eyes—literally. During his performances, Davis brings his subject to life by recreating every detail of York, from the clothes he wore on the expedition to the language used during the time period. Davis sees the physicality of his live performance as a way to effectively engage, teach, and generate meaningful dialogues. “It’s a powerful medium for getting past the niceties we’ve learned about avoiding these [tough] conversations.

It puts us right into [these subjects] with an [actual] person that we can focus on so that [these issues are] not abstract.”

In his portrayal, Davis also manages to capture the pathos underlying this man’s story, conveying a depth of emotion that introduces a human connection to history.

“When I deconstructed York’s story, it was an individual who was told he had no value and no purpose. Once he [found] his own journey, he [encountered] people that fed him a sense that he could be more. I think it’s a story that so many people can connect with.”

In 2021, Davis’ Living History performance will be showcased at the National Cowboy and Western Heritage Museum, a staple Oklahoma City stop on the Mother Road.

Gretchen Jeane, the Museum’s Director of Education and Special Projects, reached out to Davis with the goal of utilizing his performance as a means to illuminate overshadowed narratives of the west. “We [all] tell the story of some things really well and there are other things that we just don’t have the material to support. So, there are some holes, and one of those areas is the African American experience.”

It was at least ten years after the expedition that Clark finally granted York his freedom. York was never allowed to tell his story, but through Davis’ performance, we can relive the poetry rooted in York’s journey and gain inspiration from what his accomplishments represent.

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UNDER 16 ROUTE Magazine

THE RADAR

By Heide Brandes Photographs by Efren Lopez/Route66Images ROUTE Magazine 17

W

hen you have a restaurant with a name like the Roadkill Cafe, you might expect most people to appreciate the quirky slogan for what it is; but some people may just take

you seriously.

Debbie Mejia and her husband Bruce watched in disbelief one day as a guest sauntered into their restaurant with a dead critter in his arms. Although the Roadkill Cafe in Seligman, Arizona, may hint that the menu is full of unfortunate animals that fell victim to cars on historic Route 66, the café doesn’t actually sell roadkill. But this was obviously lost on the gentleman.

“He came through the front door holding a dead, run over probably several times - coyote and actually asked if we could [prepare] it,” Debbie said. “We all laughed and took pictures, but no, we couldn’t cook it.”

Northern Arizona is famous for its panoramic vistas and impossibly romantic landscapes. It is a magical part of America, made even more irresistible due to its almost 100year connection to iconic Route 66. Arizona boasts of over 619 miles of America’s Main Street but there is a special 17mile section that truly stands out.

Just after sleepy Ash Fork, the old highway turns into Crookton Road as it meanders toward quirky Seligman, carrying motorists through rolling hills and mesmerizing plateaus. But the scenic value of the journey is only the start.

The real magic is waiting for you as you roll into town.

Originally known by the Old West sounding name of Prescott Junction, due to its location as a railroad stop on the Santa Fe mainline junction, Seligman would be renamed in 1862, its new moniker in honor of Jesse Seligman, one of the

Outside of the Roadkill Cafe.

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founders of J. & W. Seligman & Co. of New York, a company that helped finance the railroad lines in the area.

After Route 66 was built in 1926, Seligman became a popular spot for road travelers, even after 1933 when the highway bypassed Seligman’s Main Street to run along Chino Street. That didn’t stop the hordes of roadtrippers. At one point, in 1937, more than 500,000 out-of-state cars passed through the Arizona portion of Route 66.

Seligman capitalized on the popularity and teemed with neon signs, roadside attractions, pithy tourist motels and home-cooking cafés.

However, in 1978, Seligman nearly became a ghost town as a new Interstate bypassed the community and left it on the verge of death for nearly 10 long years. Among the many citizens and fans who wanted to save the dusty little Arizona Mother Road stop was the Pope family, transplants who changed the landscape of modern-day Seligman.

Drive through the town of Seligman today, and you’ll see a restaurant draped in red with a sunshine yellow sign that beckons with the dubiously curious name of the Roadkill Cafe.

A giant elk statue bugles at the entrance, and inside, thousands of signed dollar bills line the rustic walls and ceiling. The menu offers dishes like the Funky Skunk, The Bird That Smacked the Curb, the Chicken that Almost Crossed the Road, and the Mystery Meat. Though the menu sounds like a bad day on a highway, visitors from around the U.S. and the globe trot to this restaurant in droves to sample the “roadkill” cuisine.

Adjacent to the unconventional café, a giant neon sign advertises the Historic Route 66 Motel, and the nearby Route 66 General Store and RV Park carries everything a traveler may need — from fresh apples to shampoo to Route 66 souvenirs.

If your car breaks down, Route 66 Automotive and Towing will come to your rescue.

In each of these Seligman businesses, a member of the Pope clan is waiting with a smile. Though the Pope family originally hailed from Massachusetts and then California, they’ve created one of the most recognizable Mother Road empires along the 2,448-mile fabled road.

Say hello to the Pope family.

In June 1963, Jim and Jean Pope loaded up their four small children and drove from Massachusetts on the east coast to sunny California to visit their parents with the idea of moving west. Jim was tired of working for other people, and he wanted the chance to start his own business, and California seemed like it had more opportunity.

Like thousands of other travelers in the 1960s, the family drove Route 66 to the California coast with sunshine dreams in their eyes. It was a fun but straightforward journey that included lots of sights and plenty of tarmac. That is until an overnight stay at the Navajo Motel in a tiny Arizona town unexpectedly altered the family’s trajectory.

The Navajo Motel was among the Americana-themed family businesses that thrived along the Mother Road. With its big red sign and bold white lettering, The Navajo Motel was built by the Layman family in 1950. It was one of those motels every kid loved - not only did it have an Old West and Native American feel, it had a swimming pool too.

“My grandparents had moved to California before I was born and my parents wanted to go out and see if they also wanted to live there,” said Debbie, the youngest of Jim and Jean’s four children. “So, we took a trip in 1963 to Westminister. Of course, [back] then, they only had Route 66. What’s so bizarre about our story is that we were meant to be here. We stopped in June of 1963, on the seventh day of the vacation, in this small, cute little town of Seligman, and we stayed at the Navajo Motel. Twenty years later, we bought [it].”

Seligman, Arizona, was a popular place for travelers to stop in the 1960s. Nestled between mountains in the east, desert in the west and the Grand Canyon to the north, Seligman had always been a traveler’s pitstop. The town was originally a Havasupai settlement, but developed into a stop along the historic Beale’s Wagon Road. When Beale’s became the Mojave Road - an early route that brought American pioneers to California after the Civil War - Seligman was one of its many stagecoach stations.

“Being as young as I was, I don’t remember much about that trip, but I do remember my mom worrying about my nana being upset with her because my brother Jim stayed in one of the motel swimming pools for too long and, as a result, was very sunburned. Of course, my mom wanted to make a good impression on her mother-in-law and my brother being as red as a lobster made her worry. Of course, my parents fell in love with the California sunny weather. We had family there. So, a year later in 1964, we moved [there] and I grew up in Orange County.”

On that fateful trip in 1963, when the Popes stayed in the Navajo Motel, Seligman was a hopping little town that raked in the visitors with its Route 66 attractions and western spirit. But Jim and Jean Pope didn’t picture themselves living there at the time. Instead, they invested in food trucks in California, long before food trucks were popular.

“That’s what I got for my graduation present in 1978 in California. I got my own catering truck. I wanted to be a part of the family business. That’s what my brothers and my sisters did with my family, so I wanted to be a part of it too.”

Debbie served hamburgers, hotdogs, burritos and all kinds of breakfast meals, and she loved it. Her family members all had catering trucks, but in the 1980s, competition was picking up.

“We had five trucks in the Vernon/Los Angeles area,” said Debbie. “[Each] of us had one. But dad wanted us all to go into another business together, a business that would work for all of us.”

Debbie’s parents first considered buying a ski resort in the northern California/Nevada area, but they worried about how to survive during the off-season slumps. Then, Debbie’s brother-in-law saw a classified ad in the Orange County Register. An advertisement that seemed out of place.

“The notice was about how the OK Saloon and the Navajo Motel, and the other businesses were for sale. My parents, my sister and her husband ventured back to Seligman to [take a look], and they just fell in love with it.”

In 1983, the family decided. Everyone - except for Debbie’s brother Jim who married a California girl who refused to move - was shifting to Seligman to take over the Navajo Motel, the OK Saloon, and the grocery store.

Debbie’s brother Bill and his family moved into a little apartment at the back of the motel, and her parents lived in a tiny house right behind the venue. Debbie moved into the house with her parents, while her sister Dee ran the motel.

“In the motel, we have living quarters, so she lived there,” Debbie said. “We were pretty much on top of each other.”

The motel was a little dated and dusty with cowboy paraphernalia, so the Pope family worked to update it. They also modernized the little store that sold moccasins and soda into a full-service grocery and hardware store.

In 1987, Debbie’s sister Dee and their father designed the fabulous neon sign that lights up the desert sky today and the name of the motel was officially changed to Historic Route 66 Motel.

From food trucks in Orange County, California, to the Roadkill Cafe in Arizona, the Pope family’s journey to “the place they were meant to be” was a winding one. Today, the Pope family owns not only the Historic Route 66 Motel but also the OK Saloon, the Historic Route 66 General Store and Route 66 Automotive and Towing, as well as a campground and storage facility.

“We not only bought the Motel from the Layman family, we bought all of our commercial properties here on Route 66 in Seligman from them too, plus property behind the businesses which our family have all built our homes on. We call it ‘Popeville.’ It’s truly a family business,” said Debbie. “I love it here. I can’t imagine living anywhere else. Seligman is our home.”

But in truth, it wasn’t always that way.

In 1983, when the California family made the new big move, Debbie was 23 with two young children.

Her son Michael was six months old and her daughter Heather was two. That was a lot of responsibility for someone so young, even with family support. To make matters more difficult, shortly after moving to Seligman, Debbie’s then husband made a decision to move back to California and the two divorced.

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“So here I was with my mom and dad and two little babies, you know. It was different from California, and the shock factor hit me. There were no red lights in this town. There were no franchises, there were no McDonald’s. There was no just running to the grocery store,” Debbie said. But one thing did appeal to the young mother about the area; she was fascinated with cowboy life. And with the Diamond A Ranch made up of over a million acres, with no back fence as it leads into the Grand Canyon, just north of Seligman, Debbie had some considerable opportunities to experience this fading lifestyle.

“I loved listening to their stories as they sat in the saloon while I was bartending. I loved the way they dressed, and I was lucky enough to make some of them my friends.

They would sometimes take me horseback riding and out to the camps.”

Seligman was also the halfway stop for the railroad between Needles, California, and Gallup, New Mexico. This meant that the railroad crew traveling west and the crew traveling east would stop in Seligman. Crews would then switch trains and head back to their original location.

“Usually the crew would have some kind of layover in Seligman, so hanging out at the local saloon playing pool and shuffleboard is what they did,” Debbie said. “All this was very fascinating to me. I truly thought I would love living in a small town, but being only 23 years old, I was homesick [quickly]. I was a city girl from southern California, and I missed the beach terribly.”

In 1983, just a few months after moving to Arizona, this longing caused Debbie to pick up and head back to California herself, but after a short spell, she realized that the Golden State just wasn’t home anymore.

“I came back to Seligman where my whole family was,” she said. And she decided to make a go of it.

Though hundreds of thousands of cars once passed through Seligman to get to and from the west coast, the opening of Interstate 40 in the late 1970s threatened to kill Seligman’s economy. The new highway ran just a mile south of town, but that one mile could have been an ocean for all the cars that suddenly bypassed the once-thriving Route 66 stop.

In the words of one resident, Angel Delgadillo, “We knew that this was going to take place, but we did not know how devastating this was going to be. When they opened I-40, this town died for 10 long years. At first, I was very sad. Then I got very angry at my government. We didn’t have the money to leave so we had to stay and fight.”

Then the Santa Fe Railroad closed in the mid-1980s, and the double blows nearly killed the community. For a 20 ROUTE Magazine

Debbie busy in the giftshop.

decade, the town was on its deathbed. Stores and restaurants faltered, and the once heavy stream of cars and visitors slowed to a trickle.

In 1987, the people of Seligman took matters in their own hands. The residents, including the now famous Angel Delgadillo, convinced the State of Arizona to make Route 66 a historic highway and asked that exit signs on the new interstate highlight Seligman as the “Birthplace of Historic Route 66.” At the same time, Angel and his brother Juan created the Route 66 Association of Arizona and began to unite their once thriving community.

In fact, the town’s efforts to save itself became one of the inspirations for Pixar’s animated movie “Cars,” and Seligman served as the inspiration for Radiator Springs, a little Route 66 town that had to fight for its survival after being bypassed by the roaring motorway. The people of Seligman joined together and actively sought to protect their future.

“I ran the businesses, but my parents went to the meetings and things like that. It was pretty much a handful of those people who were business owners and they all decided that they were going to get together and be on-board,” Debbie said. “They started going to the Association meetings in Kingman, which is 75 miles west of us.”

With people mobilized and excited, Seligman had a new lease on life and the determined Pope family looked forward, resolute that their plans would lead to a windfall of tourism dollars. It took time, and even after the Route 66 Association was formed, business continued to struggle.

The railroad’s absence left Seligman with a great deal of hardship, due to the fact that it had provided decades of major financial support for the town. All of the businesses in Seligman suffered. The railroaders were not staying in the

motels, eating in restaurants, shopping in Seligman stores or patronizing bars anymore.

“Tax dollars were gone from our school and the people of Seligman knew that they had to do something, and that they did, by coming together with the Kingman Chamber of Commerce to have 158 miles of Old Route 66 named a historical highway,” said Debbie. “Seligman survived the I978 Interstate 40 bypass and they were going to survive the railroad leaving as well.”

Everyone agreed that tourism was the only way to keep the town alive. Jim and Jean were the first to change the names of their businesses in town, renaming the Navajo Motel to the Historic Route 66 Motel, with a beautiful neon sign. But others followed. It was time for a fresh rebranding.

The Northern Arizona Campground Store was renamed as the “Historic Route 66 General Store.”

“Dad also had our Texaco gas pumps moved from our service station that is located next to the store, to the front of the store. Dad said that it would help to bring people into the store, and he was right. People like to stop for gas and buy a soda pop at the same time.”

Soon, other businesses were making changes. Some changed the names of their businesses and the little gift shops changed up their merchandise from selling cowboy hats, moccasins and Southwest items to selling Route 66 signs, shirts, magnets, coffee cups and anything else that said or had to do with Route 66.

Even before the Association began in 1987, Seligman hosted a big car show every May called the Fun Run. Vintage cars lined the street, nestled up against more modern vehicles, showing off their classic style. And despite the sluggish economy, the event still attracted plenty of fans.

“All these old cars and new cars and whatever else you wanted to put in would line up here in Seligman and then travel west to stop in places like Peach Springs and Hackberry and the little towns west of us,” said Debbie.

The starting point for the Fun Run was in Seligman, and the town hosted a pageant during the event. One girl from every town along the Fun Run route competed to be the Route 66 Fun Run Queen. The winner would promote the new Route 66 Association and partnering locations to tourists and others.

Grassroots efforts were the backbone of reviving the withering towns along Route 66 in Arizona.

Along the way, Debbie fell in love.

In 1991, an Arizona Department of Transportation supervisor named Bruce Mejia was surveying around Interstate 40 and the new Historic Route 66 when he found himself in Seligman.

Mejia grew up on Route 66 in Ash Fork and was himself a true Route 66 resident. As a worker for the Arizona Department of Transportation, Mejia saw how the small towns suffered. He remembers the mid-1970s when he and his ADOT crew were told to remove all of the advertising billboards that lined Route 66 as part of an amendment to former president Lyndon Johnson’s Highway Beautification Act. To this day, no billboards are permitted to advertise business along that stretch of highway.

While enjoying his time in Seligman, he met a pretty woman named Debbie at the then-OK Saloon. That pretty woman really sparked his interest.

“We were playing shuffleboard together,” Mejia said. “I’d been in the OK Saloon before. I coached little league girls’

softball, and Debbie’s daughter Heather was on the team. I asked her if she wanted to get a Coke. So, we drove around, and just went and had a soda and stuff. The rest is history.”

The two began getting pretty friendly. One afternoon, Heather came home from school with a question for her mother. “Mom, are you dating my baseball coach?”

“I asked her if that would be a problem. Heather was real little, and she wasn’t too happy when she came home and thought that that was the reason she got to play on the team,” Debbie said.

But the love affair lasted, and the two married on November 26, 1994.

“It is my love for Route 66 that I believe bonds me to Bruce, because in 1949, Bruce was born on Route 66 in Ash Fork in a house that is still standing. I joke and tell people that I first saw Bruce in 1963. I say he was playing in his front yard as a little boy when we drove Route 66 on vacation from Massachusetts to California,” Debbie said.

Today, the Pope family also owns the Route 66 General Store, and Debbie’s son Michael acts as shopkeeper. Her brother Bill still takes care of the tow truck and service station and his daughter Nicole runs the Motel.

The OK Saloon, filled with rowdy cowboys from neighboring ranches and the former railroad workers, was transformed into the Roadkill Cafe.

When Jean and Jim expanded the OK Saloon into the Roadkill 66 Cafe with its signature buzzard logo, Debbie’s sister-in-law Janet left the general store to run the restaurant.

A few years later, Debbie also left the store to open a gift shop at the café.

“The Roadkill Buzzard was created for us in 1997 by a very dear family friend. ‘Route 66 Ron,’” Debbie said.

“Sadly Ron passed away a few years ago, but his daughter Cindy still is one of my favorite Route 66 vendors. She creates and makes many of my specialty Roadkill signs, patches, hats, bumper stickers and coffee cups. She also provides many Route 66 products we carry in our General Store. We wanted a name that would grab people’s attention, and it certainly did.”

Soon, the Cafe was a “must-stop” for anyone traveling Route 66. Its reputation became famous based on its extensive menu with quirky and quaint named dishes. Visitors can even contribute their own signed memorial bill to be displayed in the gift shop.

From the looks of it, thousands have.

“A lot of people traveling visit again and again, and they always want to see their dollars,” Debbie said. “Back in the day, the cowboys would leave a dollar in advance when they got paid.”

On any given day, hordes of Route 66 devotees/pilgrims from all over the world, armed with cameras, especially the Harley Davidson riding types, take selfies aimed at the stuffed elk propped up outside the Roadkill Cafe’s entrance.

Plenty of celebrities have stopped in as well. The stars of the shows Pawn Stars, Storage Wars and Orange County Choppers have all made appearances, as have other recognizable names.

“Ozzy Osbourne and the baseball player Darryl Strawberry have been in,” Debbie said. “There’s been a lot of celebrities, and they’ve always been down to earth. John Ellway played pool with a bunch of customers. He also signed a bunch of Beanie Babies.”

ROUTE Magazine 21

The Pope clan.

For Heather, growing up in Seligman was picture perfect.

She played softball and camped with friends in the wild places around town. The kids threw bonfire parties on the weekend.

She also worked at the general store.

“Grandma made sure we knew how to work. She’d make us count change. We all knew how to do all that,” said Heather.

“My kid is the same way. He’s been working here since he was eight. He goes to school at North Arizona University now, but he comes in the summer and he started busing tables when he was eight.”

Debbie’s son Michael also pitched in as a kid. Before he took over the general store, he cooked at the Roadkill Cafe.

“I just loved cooking with grandma. We learned so much from her because it was her way or the highway,” Michael said.

Heather was always a homebody. After graduating high school in 1999, she moved to Prescott, for college. She stayed in the dorms there for two days, before coming home and commuting to college every day.

“My grandparents helped me get a house right next door to my mom. I actually loved Seligman. I met my husband and I moved to Phoenix for a year and I hated life [there].”

So, Heather and her husband Mike Ramirez returned home.

Mike started his own heating and cooling business while Heather keeps the books for Pope Enterprises.

The family was back together again.

The Roadkill Cafe started small but has expanded over the years as it cultivates more and more popularity. All the Pope businesses continue to grow, as does the family itself.

“We are in our fourth generation of family in these businesses,” Debbie said. “That’s counting my brother’s 22 ROUTE Magazine

kids, my grandkids and my brother’s grandkids. They’ll come in and they’ll bus tables, and the littlest ones are in my gift shop where they go around and ask people if they’d like a sample of candy. I used to give them the duster, but once we started letting people taste the candies, my grandson decided that’s what he wants to do.”

But not everyone is still involved. “My dad passed in 2004 and we lost mom in 2016. But they got to see this kind of small empire they built.”

True to the spirit of Route 66, the Roadkill Cafe welcomes all, even in the harshest of time. Northern Arizona frequently gets hit by snowstorms during the winter months that can close highways and leave travelers stranded.

“When somebody is stuck in a small town, they realize that small town people are very warm and welcoming,” Debbie said.

“Thanksgiving weekend in 2019, there was a terrible storm here that closed the highways. Only a few of my Roadkill employees could make it into work, but I had to open because people stuck all night were hungry and cold.”

Some people were stuck in snow while others ran out of gas.

“They needed a place to get warm. Myself and my husband Bruce, one of my waitresses and a prep cook were the only ones who could make it to the Roadkill to open our doors and help people get out of the weather.”

“We didn’t make a lot of money that day in the Roadkill due to the limited staff, but we dang sure made a lot of friends.”

For the Pope/Mejia family, staying together and offering that hospitality are what has made them so successful on America’s historic highway.

“Having my family together makes life nice,” Debbie said.

“We know that things will keep on going into the next generation and keep on growing. This is our home and our community.”

As for the Roadkill Cafe, wild animals still make their way through the door at times.

“On Sunday night after going to bed, I received a phone call from our Roadkill evening supervisor. Our cook was taking out the trash and a skunk ran in the restaurant and was hiding behind our piano in the dining room,” Debbie said.

“The Roadkill was closed, thank goodness, so Bruce and I went over and coaxed the little fella out without incident and no smell.”

And, no, they didn’t cook him!

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 23

A Vision for a Village

d

T

here are a lot of good reasons to visit southern Illinois, and the Kinmundy Log Cabin Village is certainly one of them. Long before America had a paved road to travel on, pioneers on horseback and in covered wagons roamed the youthful country searching for a place to call home, for a piece of land to make their own. Many of them were hearty folk who constructed their homes from their sweat and ingenuity.

These homes, many of which were built using wooden logs, barely stood taller than a small cabin. This was the time of the pioneer and today we celebrate this period, thanks in part to the vision and passion of a young, inventive woman who dreamt of a place where the pioneer’s history and heart could come to life, a place like a log cabin village.

Erma Quick was born in the town of Fairfield, Illinois, to Curtis Franklin Quick and Bertha Hiller Quick on February 19th, 1912. Erma lived a fruitful childhood, which was driven by her passion for collecting antiques and fondness for log cabins. As a young girl she developed an admiration for Abraham Lincoln after visiting the many historic sites in their shared home state. Gladys See of the Kinmundy Historical Society believes this collective appreciation acted as the catalyst for Erma’s idea of a log cabin village. After moving to Chicago for college, Erma married Elwin Ingram, and together they built a life. Erma became a music teacher and flourished in her profession, but despite twenty-seven years of teaching, the romantic log cabin never left her mind.

Gladys paints Erma as a visionary, who—like so many of her kind—produced ideas that were scoffed at and misunderstood. “They didn’t understand her vision, they really didn’t. A lot of people made fun of it,” she explained.

Many log cabin villages already existed in the region during the early 1960’s, but most fell into disrepair, causing people to tear them down and repurpose the logs. In an effort to save the history she loved, Erma approached the owners to buy these derelict structures. “This kind of tells you a little bit about her spirit,” Gladys remarked. She added that when people tried to offer Erma a cabin for free, “she would say, ‘No, I don’t want anything given to me. I’m going to pay for it.’ They might not have accepted much, but she bought every cabin, and she would be the first one to tell you that she did.”

A preservationist at heart, Erma wanted to endow future generations with the opportunity to not only glimpse into the past but walk through it and experience it face-to-face.

24 ROUTE Magazine

Now, each and every year, the vision of Erma Ingram comes alive during the town’s legendary Fall Craft Festival.

Since the late seventies, volunteers from all over the Kinmundy area have come together to celebrate the spirit of early America and continue Erma’s legacy of historical preservation. These volunteers echo Erma’s sentiment of wishing to immerse younger generations in the true spirit of early America. They work tirelessly yet eagerly to create meaningful encounters with the Village’s many visitors. Rick Hanks, President of the nonprofit group KPI (Kinmundy Promotions, Inc.), estimates that the Village sees about 15,000 visitors throughout the Festival’s two weekends.

While walking along the Village’s gravel pathway, one sees the heritage of pioneer settlers displayed in the theater of each cabin. Volunteers dress in precise period costumes and perform quotidian activities of the era, keenly illustrating the physicality of the time. Filled with the music of banjos, dulcimers and singers, the Village’s warm atmosphere exudes an air of honest, hard work, which showcases itself through the many vendors who proudly sell their trade crafts. In fact, many of the volunteers in the Fall Craft Festival participate because of familial lineages. Their descendants too once called the town home.

The Kinmundy Log Cabin Village is dedicated to authenticity; each cabin remains in the untampered state of its original construction.

KPI’s vision for the future of Ingram’s Village involves the expansion of this originality through the acquisition of more cabins, either by donation, or as Erma would have it, through purchase.

The Village places an emphasis on restoration instead of renovation for its cabins. This includes the removal of any item not originating from the appropriate time period. Such dedication to historic authenticity is no easy task according to Hanks. “Everyone who owns a home knows about upkeep, so imagine that and times it by a dozen, then you’ll have some idea about what it’s like to take care of the Village.”

This level of enthusiasm blossomed from the visionary soul of Erma Ingram. Rather than let one of the most cherished parts of American history fade away, she decided to do something about it. She stood strong and realized her dreams by reanimating the look, feel, and passion of the pioneer days. In doing so, she allowed the lessons embedded in our past to continue teaching and inspiring us today.

Photograph courtesy of Kinmundy Log Cabin Village.

Erma Ingram and the Kinmundy Log Cabin Village

WELCOME TO

Springfield, Missouri As the Birthplace of Route 66, Springfield is the perfect place to celebrate the legacy of the Mother Road. Learn how it all began at the newly-opened History Museum on the Square, see classic cars at the Route 66 Car Museum and enjoy a burger and shake at one of our vintage American diners.

SpringfieldMo.org/Route66 ROUTE Magazine 25

26 ROUTE Magazine

Opening illustration courtesy of Scribner.

AS

a kid growing up in the Seventies, I’d often fall asleep in my cozy bed in Wisconsin only to wake up on a stretch of highway several states away.

It was how each of my family’s road trips began.

Around 3 a.m. my dad would charge through our house, flipping on light switches and shouting at my two older brothers and sister to wake up and get going, like a drill sergeant rousing his troops at morning reveille. As the youngest, I was simply scooped from my bed, still sleeping.

After being marched out to our family car—poof!—in a cloud of leaded gas fumes we’d be off for some far-flung destination.

This would typically happen twice each year. My dad was an avid golfer who had the great misfortune of living in a state where the weather prevented him from playing his favorite sport more often than it permitted it. So, he’d use each of our Christmas and Easter school breaks to escape the bone-chilling Wisconsin winter and drive south to some warm and sunny golf resort along the Gulf Coast or Florida.

This meant that I spent a good portion of my childhood in the backseat of a series of fake wood-paneled station wagons and gas-guzzling land yachts traveling the highways of America.

My family was hardly alone out on the road, of course. We were simply joining the many others who’d been tearing up the pavement for three decades, during the “Golden Age of the Family Road Trip.” But the phenomenon peaked in the 1970s—the decade in which Americans logged more than 14.4 trillion miles on the highways. By my estimate, my family alone accounted for at least a trillion.

Road Trips and WWII By the time my family began taking road trips, Americans had already been beating a well-worn path to the Grand Canyon and sunny beaches of Florida for more than half a century.

However, the craze didn’t really get going until the 1950s. In many ways, it was World II that really jumpstarted the family road trip.

For starters, the draft whisked millions of young men off their farms and out of their urban neighborhoods and sent them off to train in distant areas of the country—Texas, California and especially Florida. The experience provided many of these men their first glimpse of the country more than just a few miles from home. Enchanted by views of sandy beaches and sparkling blue ocean, many soldiers longed to return to these places after the war—and bring their young families with them.

The war also spurred the nation’s car companies to dramatically improve their production capabilities. Afterward, factories made the quick transition from manufacturing airplanes and tanks to rolling out new automobiles—at prices many families could afford. By 1960, an astounding 77 percent of American families owned at least one car.

In a booming postwar economy, about the only thing Americans couldn’t afford was air travel. Due to excessive regulation, airfares were two to eight times more expensive than today. For young families with kids, flying simply wasn’t an option. Instead, parents intent on taking vacations

simply loaded their kids into their station wagons and hit the highways.

Where were they headed? Not just to sunny beaches, swanky resorts or far-off theme parks. Many set off to discover the beauty of the country’s national parks— Yellowstone, Yosemite and others. Between 1955 and 1972, attendance at national parks nearly tripled.

Families also flocked to the nation’s Civil War battlefields and the landmarks of Washington, DC. In 1964, twice as many visitors toured the halls of the White House and climbed the steps of the Washington Monument as a decade earlier.

Many tourists also heeded the famous advice of New York Times editor Horace Greeley to “Go West!” Captivated by TV shows like Gunsmoke and Rawhide, Americans of the 1960s were gripped by a fascination with the Old West.

Thousands traveled to America’s Southwest to walk the streets of decaying boomtowns like Virginia City, Nevada, and Tombstone, Arizona, which boomed once again.

Of course, families headed to these destinations from the nation’s heartland and cities of the Northeast were bound to spend a good portion of their trip motoring along Route 66. It’s one of my great regrets that my own family never made this drive—our road trips seldom led us west of the Mississippi River. But for families who did, the Mother Road offered an unforgettable journey of enthralling natural beauty and kitschy neon-trimmed delights.

Wigwams, UFOs and Giant Balls of Twine Originating in Chicago and proceeding west to the Pacific Coast, Route 66 became a popular conduit for countless families hoping to visit popular tourist destinations like the Grand Canyon, Hollywood and the beaches of Southern California. However, traffic along the highway was often seasonal and sporadic.

To survive, businesses that lined the route tried every means to get motorists to stop and spend their money. The most obvious—and memorable—of these tactics were the colossal fiberglass “people attractors”: muffler men, giant-sized hotdogs, guns, pies, cow heads, ice cream cones, and other items associated with whatever merchants eagerly hawked along the highway.

Before long, the establishments themselves took on attention-getting shapes. Restaurants morphed into gigantic shoes, sombreros and UFOs. Hungry diners were served in retired trolley cars, cabooses and airplanes. Motels assumed the guise of log cabins, alpine cottages, and, of course, Indianstyle teepees. At the Wigwam Village chain’s peak, seven of Frank Redford’s unique roadside inns lined Route 66. Today, only three remain open, still beckoning to motorists passing through Rialto, California, Holbrook, Arizona and back east in Cave City, Kentucky.

Other oddities appeared as well. Along the highway in Catoosa, Oklahoma, motorists were amazed to come across a beached blue whale. More than eighty feet long and sporting a friendly smile, the whale sits in a small watering hole, encouraging motorists to stop in for a quick dip. Today, however, swimming is no longer permitted. Further down the road in Tulsa, road trippers encountered the Golden Driller, a towering brass-toned oilman with a hardhat built in 1952 to tout the area’s good fortune as the “oil capital of the world.”

Such gimmicks weren’t limited to Route 66. Outlandish oversized objects could be found beside highways all over ROUTE Magazine 27

America. The World’s Largest Catsup Bottle awaited tourists in Collinsville, Illinois, while the World’s Largest Light Bulb became a beacon for visitors to Edison, New Jersey. Families could even choose to behold the wonder of not just one but two giant balls of twine, both vying for the title of World’s Largest. The original can still be found in tiny Darwin, Minnesota, while its rival sits in a town square in Cawker City, Kansas.

Motor Courts, Motels and Making Time Not all families were inclined to stop at these attractions, however—especially those headed by a father like mine. My dad was obsessed with what he called “making time” while on the road. Essentially, making time simply meant progressing toward some destination as fast as humanly possible. Most often, it didn’t matter how quickly we arrived at whatever arbitrary city or landmark my dad selected as our goal, mind you. He just wanted to prove it could be done.

Considering my father believed the idea of briefly stopping to investigate some roadside curiosity was ridiculous, the thought of stopping for hours—hours, mind you!—to spend the night sleeping in a motel seemed borderline insane. As my dad saw it, ten hours at a motel was ten fewer hours we could enjoy at our final destination. Why, a man could play two rounds of golf in that kind of time!

Fortunately for us, my mom vehemently disagreed with my dad on this point. She insisted we pull off the road not long after dark each evening to spend the night in a motel. By the 1970s, we were fortunate to have plenty of options available, from simple Mom-and-Pop operations to big national chains.

Things had come a long way from the early days of road travel.

When Americans set out on the highways during the 1920s, few lodging accommodations existed outside major cities and tourist destinations. Unable to find shelter, road tripping motorists simply brought their own. This practice was called “autocamping.”

The concept worked just as the term implies. After a long day’s driving, travelers simply pulled over wherever they chanced upon an inviting wayside or farm field. Once 28 ROUTE Magazine

When Road Travel Was No Picnic Like motels, rest areas also have their roots in the era of autocamping. Credit for the idea goes to a thoughtful county highway department manager in Michigan named Allan Williams.

In the late 1920s, Williams was driving along one of the highways under his supervision when he spotted a traveling family having a picnic at the side of the road—or trying to.

Having no place to sit or spread out their food beside their car, the family awkwardly arranged themselves on several large rocks and a tree stump. It gave Williams an idea.

Months later, while waiting out a snowstorm that would require plowing to clear the roads, Williams had his crew

Illustration on page 28 and newspaper clipping on page 29 courtesy of Stuckey’s.

Illustrated by Derek Yaniger.

Stuckey’s has been a road trip favorite since 1937.

parked, they’d either pop a tent out of their trunk and pitch it right beside the road or sprawl out in their backseat and sleep under the stars. By one estimate, as many as 15 million Americans had tried autocamping by 1924.

In reality, autocamping was just trespassing with a car.

Property owners along highways quickly wearied of “tin can tourists” squatting on their land at night and squatting in their bushes in the morning, leaving behind all manner of waste. To address the problem, many towns began providing public campsites. Most provided only basic conveniences—a central pavilion with fireplace, picnic tables and pumps for drinking water.

Before long, private entrepreneurs offered competing options with modestly better accommodations for a few dollars more—enclosed wood huts with bedding, electricity, heat and small kitchens. Typically arranged in a U or L shape around a central courtyard, these sites came to be known as “motor courts.”

As competition increased, and owners introduced more amenities, it wasn’t long before motor courts were only a truckload of drywall and case of Gideon’s bibles away from becoming full-fledged motels. However, World War II slammed the brakes on further development of lodging facilities. It wouldn’t resume until after the war, when government officials began openly contemplating plans for a national system of superhighways—the interstates.

In 1952, Charles Kemmons Wilson unveiled the first “Holiday Inn” near Memphis, Tennessee. He lifted the name from the classic Christmas movie starring Bing Crosby. Designed to provide traveling families with clean accommodations and amenities like air-conditioning and swimming pools at every location, the Holiday Inn chain set the template for all others that followed. By 1975, Holiday Inns could be found in 1700 locations around the world.

Like the entrepreneurs along Route 66, Wilson wanted to make sure motorists noticed his establishments. So he personally designed a sign that they couldn’t miss—or mistake for any other chain.

Inspired by his days working in movie houses in his youth, Wilson’s design resembled a giant theater marquee. The monstrous structure blazed with the light of fifteen hundred feet of neon tubing and five hundred incandescent bulbs.

From the base arose a large yellow arrow that curved around the sign’s top, pointing the way to the check-in desk. Tucked beneath the Holiday Inn name was a glowing white board used to promote lounge acts and welcome visiting honeymooners.

Known as the “Great Sign,” the garish goliath became one of the most recognized icons of American road travel.

cobble together two picnic tables from some spare lumber and paint. When spring came, he had the men deliver the tables to a scenic spot along the highway beneath a shade tree.

Motorists who encountered the thoughtfully provided picnic stop loved it. Many sent glowing letters of thanks to the chief of the Michigan Highway Department, who ordered similar waysides built. Soon, the idea spread along the highways of America.

In time, some clever officials realized rest areas could be more than just public facilities. They could also play a role in public relations by conveying interesting information about the state to motorists passing through from all over the country.

In some regions, the interior walls of rest areas were decorated with colorful tile mosaics illustrating the products manufactured in the state or historical events that had taken place nearby. Other states, particularly in America’s Southwest, got even more creative. The buildings themselves became works of art. Simple picnic shelters were transformed into giant teepees, oil derricks, stylized longhorn cattle, rockets and other symbols of local industries and heritage.

While these vintage rest areas along state highways are quickly disappearing, many still remain to be discovered by motorists daring enough to venture off the interstates.

The End of the Road for Road Trips As the saying goes, all good things must come to an end.

The demise of the “Golden Age of the Family Road Trip” began in 1978, when President Jimmy Carter signed the Airline Deregulation Act. The legislation eliminated many of draconian rules that had long inflated the cost of air travel— and made it unaffordable for most families.

As airfares dropped, the number of Americans flying soared.

Just ten years after airline deregulation began, a whopping 89 percent more passengers booked flights on US airlines.

Instead of motoring thousands of miles to their destinations, vacationing families increasingly chose to drive their station wagons only as far as the nearest airport.

My family would join the flock in 1981. One evening around the dinner table, my dad, as was his custom, dramatically announced the destination he and my mom had selected for our next trip—Washington D.C. My siblings and I were excited. Finally, we’d get to tour the White House, see the Capitol, visit the Smithsonian Museums and more. But it was what my father said next that made our jaws drop—we’d be flying instead of driving.

So, later that year, my family flew—for the first time—to the nation’s capital. We saw some amazing sights. We had a great time. But as I stepped off the airplane upon landing back home, I couldn’t shake the empty feeling in my stomach.

There had been no 3 a.m. wakeup, no sleepy march to the car, no endless hours playing “The Alphabet Game” or “Mad Libs”, not even any noogies administered by my brothers in the backseat. In short, it just hadn’t seemed like a family vacation.

Somewhere along the way, I realized, we’d left the best part behind.

Sunday Magazine, July 26, 1998. Sandra Aker Drake.

Richard Ratay is the author of Don’t Make Me Pull Over!

An Informal History of the Family Road Trip, available in all formats at booksellers everywhere. Grab a copy now and take the journey across America’s love affair with road travel.

ROUTE Magazine 29

A MONUMENT TO 66 El Reno Style

T

he saying ‘larger than life’ gets tossed around a lot, often to the point where it becomes a cliché, but beneath the dullness lies a meaning that captures the truly remarkable.

The feeling of ‘larger than life’ undeniably surrounds Route 66 and its legendary history, which packs itself with extraordinary subjects, but what makes the Mother Road’s reputation so exceptional comes from the magic that lies within the most unexpected places. It’s along America’s Main Street where we experience the communities that convey a real hometown feel and boast some of the most epic, larger than life gems in the nation.

One such neighborly place sits just 30 minutes west of Oklahoma City and only recently added another entry to the fabled Route 66 story. El Reno, Oklahoma, now calls itself home to a new Mother Road monument in the form of a massive, climbable Route 66 sign. Standing over ten-feet tall, the supersized version of the iconic highway shield balances on a tilt towards the historic road, beckoning visitors to explore and interact with the grand work of art.

Originally installed in 2018, the structure features a slight tweak of the black-and-white shield by substituting the word “Route” with “El Reno.” This rebranding of the vintage symbol reflects the town’s Route 66 identity and wonderfully expresses the pride associated with being a stop along the Mother Road. Moreover, the monument serves as a welcoming landmark that allows people to sit inside the two hollowed-out “6’s” and pose for a quintessential road trip photo.

The project’s mastermind, El Reno’s Mayor, Matt White, conceived the idea while traversing Route 66 with his wife. “[We] went to Winslow Arizona, [and] I was there around 7:50 in the morning…I [noticed] there were about 50 people milling around downtown, just taking pictures of the [famous] ‘Standin’ on the Corner [Statue]!’” He exclaimed. “I thought to myself man, this is incredible that we’re missing out,” he continued. As Mayor White observed the captivating energy of Winslow’s attraction, he developed a new perspective on how he could similarly engage his town. “At that point I was a traveler—not just a resident on Route 66—and I really took hold of that. I thought we’ve really got to get a hook,” he declared.

Mayor White took what he saw to heart, returning to El Reno—the place he’s lived all his life—determined to bring that same enchantment to his Route 66 community.

“I went to a ‘How to Better Your Community’ class…and [the instructor] said, ‘have you ever Googled your town?’ I thought

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you know what, I never have! So I Googled El Reno, Oklahoma, and they said ‘Now go to images.’”

The pictures that popped up on his screen disheartened Mayor White. “All I saw was the tornados we’ve had,” he lamented. Mayor White proceeded to Google nearby Oklahoma City and was astounded by the difference in imagery. “All of a sudden, these pictures popped up on Wheeler Park and these big 12-foot, round, letters, ‘OKC,’ with kids sitting inside and families standing on top of them,” he explained.

Witnessing this contrast between the negative and positive associations ignited further determination within Mayor White. Seeking to brighten El Reno’s reputation, he contacted the designer of the “OKC” letter project and together they visualized the Route 66 themed attraction. Taking inspiration from Oklahoma City’s initiative, Mayor White emphasized that he wanted the monument to involve both local branding and physical interaction. “You gotta have that El Reno on there because that’s our brand. It shows community [and] where you’re at, [plus] it’s welcoming. We wanted the 66 part [so] you can sit in it [and] feel like you’re a part of the art. You’re not just looking at a mural or something else,” he remarked.

Shortly afterwards, Mayor White found his dream coming true; the sleek and bold monument turned out precisely how he envisioned. Seeing the sign glisten on El Reno’s corner of Route 66 prompted the town to embrace the one-of-a-kind attraction as its shining beacon. “The whole thing [with the sign] is that…it’s a sense of ownership to us. It’s our statue of liberty,” Mayor White explained. With the monument’s electric introduction to El Reno, an air of rejuvenation flowed through the town, generating fresh excitement and offering an opportunity to reclaim a sense of positivity.

Mayor White views the sign’s overwhelming support as a representation of El Reno’s openhearted attitude towards Route 66 and those who travel it. “We just love travelers that come on Route 66 because they really get to see Americana, and it’s right here in our downtown,” he stated. “We’re just real proud of all the travelers we have in our town…they’re so nice and so pleasant…It’s such a gift to have Route 66 in your community,” he added.

The aura of Route 66 radiates with promise, adventure, and genuine connection. El Reno’s Mother Road monument takes those exhilarating sensations and illustrates them brilliantly.

The project also demonstrates that Mayor White’s cherished hometown is much more than a place with tornados; it is a community with a larger than life spirit.

DISCOVER CLINTON, OKLAHOMA

WHERE ROUTE 66 TRULY COMES ALIVE!

• HIS TORI C HOTE L S• D IV E RS E D INING• •M OHAW K LOD G E IND IAN S TORE• •THE WATE R ZOO•

www.clintonokla.org ROUTE Magazine 31

66 ON TWO

By Ahlanna Camber Photographs by Efren Lopez/Route66Images

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WHEELS

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IT

was a little after 2 p.m. when a man named Jay walked into the Seaba Station Motorcycle Museum outside of Warwick, Oklahoma, on Route 66.

A Yamaha dirt bike parked outside of the red brick building caught Jay’s eye, and like most curiosity-seekers who pass the Museum, he felt compelled to stop and see how much the owner Jerry Reis wanted for it.

“Sorry, I’ve been drinking,” Jay said, talking a mile a minute, rambling about bikes and childhood memories. “I just wanna know how much that bike is.”

After hearing the price, Jay wasn’t interested so much anymore. It didn’t matter that the bike was in perfect working order or that it had been refurbished to its original condition.

He wanted a cheaper bike … or a riding lawnmower.

“We get guys like that come in every now and again,” said Jerry. “But most people come in because they love motorcycles.

And, it’s just an interesting building. Did you know we have the first plumbed outhouse west of the Mississippi out back?”

Jerry, who opened the Seaba Station Motorcycle Museum 12 years ago, has the heart of a schoolteacher (which he is), but a passion for vintage bikes. Opening a museum dedicated to old motorcycles wasn’t necessarily in his life’s masterplan, but the old, original Route 66 structure beckoned to him every day as he drove by it.

When the property finally came up for sale, he knew he had to have it. Today, that historic building pays homage to the road trip spirit of Route 66 with more than 130 bikes on display, a collection of antique motor toys and signs and a history that appeals even to non-roadwarriors.

Finding Seaba In the glory days of Route 66, travelers of all kinds found themselves at a lonely yet bustling, service station in Warwick, Oklahoma. Seaba’s Filling Station and Seaba Engine Rebuilding and Machine Shop were built by John Seaba in 1921 on old Oklahoma Highway 7, which was then part of the Ozark Trails system. Later, in 1926, the Ozark Trails network was re-designated as part of U.S. Highway 66.

“When I bought the place 12 years ago, everybody on Route 66 already knew the Seaba Station, so we just kept the name,” said Jerry. “Whenever I’d go from my house, which is in Midwest City (a suburb east of Oklahoma City) to Tulsa, this is the route I would always take. The building was always here, and I always liked [it].”

The Seaba Station was oddly shaped, even for the quirky Route 66 standards. It was a red polychrome brick building with a five-sided open service bay. Two gas pumps sat in the middle bay serving the “NevrNox” brand, but John Seaba jumped on the trend of offering full-service auto repair to the Opening Spread: Jerry Ries on a vintage bike outside of Seaba Station.

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thousands of travelers driving along Route 66. He was a man with an eye for opportunity.

In 1934, Seaba opened the engine repair shop, specializing in rebuilding connecting rods to help those who broke down along America’s Main Street. However, strict gas rationing during World War II meant closing the filling station to focus on repairing the military trucks that rambled down Route 66 on their way west.

Seaba Station was strictly an engine repair shop from the 1930s until 1994.

“It closed down for a while. Then it became an antique store owned by Sue Preston. She filled it with all kinds of antiques, and the place was filled to the brim,” said Jerry. “I drove by one time and there was a for sale sign out front. That was about 2008. I just said, ‘I’m going to go look at this building before someone else buys it.’ When I got in here, it was a whole lot bigger than what it looks like from the outside.”

And Jerry knew exactly what he wanted to do with the building.

Coming to Route 66 Jerry Reis was born in 1956 in Davenport, Iowa, to John and Betty Ries. A bustling place of around 65,000 at the time, Davenport was and is the largest of the five cities that make up the “Quad Cities” region, which straddles the Iowa-Illinois border. He had a typical suburban childhood, and like most boys at the time, he liked motorcycles.

“I always wanted a bike and mom would never let me have one. It was probably more economics than anything else.

She was worried about affording one and then the process of getting hurt on one. The first time I rode a real bike was probably when I was 16. I started out with dirt bikes. The first one was a Yamaha AT1. At that point, it was kind of a done deal.”

At the time, Jerry preferred wild dirt trails to asphalt roads.

He also had a love of anything old, and even as a teenager, liked the patina of age on items. He started collecting “old stuff” like vintage toys and signs, and found vintage bikes fit into both of his loves.

“I had my first bike for about a year, and then sold it for another bike, which was a Bultaco Alpena, which was a crossover Enduro street bike.” These are names that mean little to most of us, but to bike enthusiasts, they ring familiar.

Jerry graduated from Davenport Central High School in 1974 not knowing that a certain girl he didn’t get along with would eventually become his wife. As a member of the Church of Christ, he had the option to attend Oklahoma Christian University in Edmond, Oklahoma, to earn his degree in Physical Education, and he didn’t think twice about his high school mate until he returned to Davenport one year on Christmas break.

“We both came home from college for Christmas break, and I asked her to see a movie with me,” he said. “Her name was Diane. She went to school in Lubbock, Texas, and was studying education too. She didn’t ever teach, though. She got into banking.”

Jerry graduated college in 1978 and married Diane in December 1979. They had their first son Craig in 1982 and quickly followed up with their second son Dayton in 1983.

Jerry taught physical education, science, and social studies for 29 years at the Crutcho School District near Midwest City and the couple developed a nice life for themselves.

At the time, Jerry was also developing his love of dirt bikes.

“I did have a street bike, but I liked the dirt riding. I grew into street bikes. But then I had my kids,” he said. “That slowed me down on riding, so I sold my street bike. Diane didn’t mind the bikes, but she worried a lot about the kids and my safety.

“When the kids were about 12 and 13, I wound up buying another dirt bike. What I like to do is ride trials and most all the dirt bikes I had were for trials. Trials is when you take a bike through an obstacle course. You go real slow and do tight turns over logs, things like that.”

Trial riding also introduced Jerry to a man who would help shape his life.

Revving the Idea Gerald Tims of Oklahoma City was also a trial bike enthusiast. Born in 1961 to Carl and Leatrice Tims in Oklahoma City, he got his first full start minibike at age five.

From that point on, motorcycles were a part of his world.

“My dad rode motorcycles and always had motorcycles, so it was just a part of my life,” Tims said. “I went to work at Broadway Cycles in Oklahoma City when I was in junior high school, and I was racing motorcycles at 13. For lack of better words, I was addicted to motorcycles.”

He also started collecting vintage bikes in 1993 after breaking his leg after wiping out on his motorcycle. While he couldn’t ride for a while, he could still indulge his love of motorcycles, so he and a friend went to Steamboat Springs, Colorado, to watch a vintage bike race. While there, Tims found a bike his father always talked about.

“They had a 1953 James. My dad had a James and always liked them, so I made a bid for it and bought it. That started a domino effect and I started collecting.”

Tims also started his own motorcycle businesses. He opened Performance Cycle in Oklahoma City in 1993. In 1999, He bought a Triumph motorcycle franchise and then a Suzuki franchise in 2004. In 2016, he sold both, but kept his original store, specializing in vintage and specialty bikes.

“I met Jerry through a classified ad in the paper,” Tims said. “He had a Yamaha TY80 for sale, which is a kid’s trials bike. At the time, I was riding and collecting trials bikes, so I bought it from him back in 1994, 1995.”

Little did the two know, but they had a mutual friend in common who invited Ries to come out to the trials competitions.

“I saw him there, and I said, ‘Hey! I bought a bike from you.’ The friendship took off from there,” said Tims.

Ries and Tims started going to trial events together.

“We had a guy named Kenny with us, and the three of us did all the trials together and even put on some trial events ourselves,” said Jerry.

When Tims expanded his businesses, Jerry helped him build and renovate the locations. When he moved the store again, Jerry helped him remodel that one too.

“He’d been collecting bikes forever, and he had all these old bikes,” said Jerry. “I told him he should display the bikes or open a museum or something.”

“Jerry, being the handyman that he is, helped me remodel my building in Bethany (part of Oklahoma City), and I kept most of my bikes upstairs. I would say that I have 300 bikes, mostly vintage,” Tims said. “Jerry kept telling me I should open a museum.”

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ROUTE Magazine 35

Seaba Station from Route 66.

That idea took hold. When that old Seaba Station turned antique store put up the “for sale” sign in 2008, Jerry knew exactly what could be done with it. He urged Tims to check out the location.

“We talked about doing a museum all the time. One time, I bought this big group of motorcycles in Tulsa, and Jerry would meet me in Chandler to help me haul them back,” Tims said.

“When I saw the old Seaba Station, I knew it. I had ridden past it so many times and always thought it was a cool building.”

Jerry bought the building in October 2008.

“I bought it with all the antiques still in it. The owner had added a wooden wall and had changed the original front, but I wanted to bring it back to how it looked in the beginning.”

For the first two years, Jerry just sold the antiques that remained in the old service station. He also took the time to begin renovations. He had found an old photo of the original Seaba Station with its two drive-through bays. With this image serving as his blueprint, Jerry opened up the original bays and exposed the traditional brick, reanimating the classic style of the building.

According to the National Park Service, a Route 66 Corridor Preservation Program Cost-Share Grant helped reopen the original five bays.

And after a lifetime of teaching, Jerry was ready for a new adventure.

“I taught for 29 years and retired in 2008.”

By 2010, Jerry opened the Seaba Station Motorcycle Museum. Tims didn’t join him in ownership, but roughly 60 to 70 percent of the bikes on display are his. Jerry’s wife, however, remains involved and helps out with the events at the Museum.

“She is very supportive,” Jerry said.

The Museum’s souvenir items were originally out front for the first seven years, but Jerry eventually expanded the store to include the back room when he installed heat and air into the building.

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“From the very first day, people came in. It seems like everyone has a story about their first bike. Being on Route 66 really helps. Some days, I can have 200 people come in while other days, only 20 come in.”

While Seaba Station is noted as a stop on numerous Poker Runs, it doesn’t host its own. Jerry does host a swap meet twice a year in May and in October for other collectors to set up booths to sell and buy, but the motorcycles themselves are what fascinate visitors.

“I’ve got a 1909 Triumph here, which is one of Gerald’s bikes. The 1910 Indian is mine. I’d say 90 percent of these bikes would have no problem getting up and running,” he said. “I don’t have a lot of bikes for sale. This truly is more of a museum.”

Some of the bikes are on display in their original shipping boxes, and have never been removed from their packaging.

A couple have never even been started and remain in pristine condition.

Famed local artist Jerry McClanahan of Chandler, Oklahoma, lives just down the road from the Seaba Station and has watched its evolution over the years.

“I would have first seen it in person in 1986. I remember reading about its prior life as a machine shop with belt-driven tools for rebuilding engines,” McClanahan said.

“The collection of vintage bikes is very interesting, as is the experience of being in the well-preserved old building. The owners were able to remodel the gas station canopy area to appear closer to the original. They even have a movie bike from one of the Captain America films. Seaba Station is an authentic picturesque, historic Route 66 building. It’s very photogenic, and even has an old double outhouse alongside,” McClanahan said. “He has a great collection and gift shop.”

As for Reis, he still mans the welcome counter, answers questions about the old bikes in his collection, and wards off drunken inquiries about riding lawn mowers.

Miami, Oklahoma

The gateway to Oklahoma on Historic Route 66

DELUXE INN Miami, OK

visitmiamiok @miamioktourism @visitmiamioklahoma

ROUTE Magazine 37

EVERYDA

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Y ON 66 Photographs by Mark A. Payler

ROUTE Magazine 39

R

oute 66 is an American icon, a legendary road that represents the history of the country and the fanciful dreams of generations; some have come to fruition while others have sadly vanished like a mirage in the Mojave heat. But a trip across America’s Main Street today is a reminder of the people who have invested their hearts and souls into America and of the

OPENING SPREAD: Route 66 Diner, Albuquerque, NM.

BELOW: Braums, Oklahoma City, OK.

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vision that once characterized us. Not generic, seldom plain and expected, modern Route 66 is the story of a time when travel was still an adventure and when businesses tried their hand in many a fashion to lure motorists off of the open highway. Hit the open road today and discover the wonderment that still defines America.

ABOVE: Polk-a-Dot Drive Inn,Braidwood, IL.

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RIGHT: Xxxxx xxxxxxx xxxxx.

ABOVE: Tee Pee Curios, Tucumcari, NM.

RIGHT: Dairy King, Commerce, OK.

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RIGHT: Xxxxx xxxxxxx xxxxx.

ABOVE: Lumberjack Giant, Flagstaff, AZ.

LEFT: Rich and Creamy, Joliet, IL.

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ABOVE: Sunrise Motel, Villa Ridge, MO.

RIGHT: Route 66 Barber Shop, Springfield, MO.

Mark A. Payler is a Colorado professional landscape, street, and travel photographer whose work has been highlighted in the landmark book, “A Day in the Life of America”. Payler also featured a double-spread photograph in the 50th anniversary issue of “Popular Photography” magazine and is passionate about Route 66 and traveling the backroads of America.

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FORGED FROM THE SPIRIT of the American Prairie and molded by the oil boom of the early 20th Century, our town is a warm, welcoming refuge from big-city life.

Nestled on brilliantly red soil and basking underneath the dramatic clouds of Oklahoma’s picturesque sky, we offer alluring varieties of culture and nature. As a neighborly

community we embrace Mother Road travelers with ample entertainment, attractions, and the finest All-American food. With four nationally recognized museums, including the widely renowned National Route 66 Museum Complex, we provide to all who pass through our town an enriching glance into the heart of the USA.

LET US SHOW YOU THE WONDERMENT THAT AWAITS!

August 8, 2020

EMBARK ON YOUR NEXT JOURNEY ALONG AMERICA’S MAINSTREET TO ELK CITY. YOU’LL ENCOUNTER PURE AMERICANA IN EVERY STORE, PARK, AND DINER HERE! • ENTERTAINMENT • LEISURE • SHOPPING • GOLF • ACCOMMODATIONS • RESTAURANTS • CULTURE • ART • SCENIC WALKS • NATURE VIEWS • NATIONAL ROUTE 66 MUSEUM & TRANSPORTATION MUSEUM COMPLEX • FARM & RANCH MUSEUM • OLD TOWN MUSEUM • BLACKSMITH MUSEUM

PLAN YOUR JOURNEY AT

WWW.VISITELKCITY.COM (580)225-0906 ROUTE Magazine 45

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ROUTE Magazine 47

48 ROUTE Magazine

A CONVERSATION WITH

Lou Diamond Phillips

By Brennen Matthews

Photographs by Manfred Baumann

A

s a child of the 80’s, few actors were more recognizable to me than Lou Diamond Phillips. The films he starred in portrayed strong, confident characters who represented loyalty and dependability. He stood out in a pack of other young, up and coming actors that also dominated the screen. Over the years, Phillips went on to receive nominations for Emmys and Golden Globes while also winning a slew of other acclaimed awards. He has starred in 145 film and TV projects and has maintained his relevance, albeit, as a more refined version of himself. In this issue, we get to know the uniquely diverse Lou Diamond Phillips as not only an actor, but as a father, husband, producer, and director.

You describe yourself as a journeyman actor; what do you mean by that?

You know, it’s interesting, man. I used to play poker on Wednesday nights with a guy named Norby Walters, who’s a music manager, when I was in L.A. This was very much a round table of old school Hollywood guys. I got to play with Charlie Durning, James Garner, Ed Asner, Harvey Keitel— just amazing actors of generations that I admired a lot; they were inspirational to me. I remember Charlie Durning used to always say, “you workin’ kid?” And you’d go, “yeah,” and that would be the end of it. He didn’t care if it was an A+, hundred-million-dollar budget film, he just wanted to know that you were a working actor.

I remember when I first started in the industry, the people that I admired, I always call them my “holy triumvirate,” were: De Niro, Hoffman, Pacino—because these were swarthy guys; these were guys with dark hair; they didn’t look like Robert Redford or Paul Newman. They gave me hope that I could be a film or television star, but they were also character actors. When I started out, that’s what I fancied myself to be.

The fact that I became a leading man was really the icing on the cake, man, the cherry on the sundae. What I always hoped to do was to have a career. I credit my mentor, Adam Roarke at the Film Actors Lab in Dallas, Texas, where he really put a working actor mentality into the students. That’s what I meant by “journeyman.” You make your living doing this; you’re not just a flash in the pan; you’re not just the flavor of the month.

You keep your head down, your nose to the grindstone, and you just keep grinding it out. (Laughs)

Tell me a little bit about your journey towards 1987’s major hit, La Bamba.

(Laughs) It was lightning in a bottle—a lucky, lucky break.

But I was ready for it; they didn’t discover me in a tight t-shirt in a soda shop. I got my very first professional gig at 19 with a group of alumni from the University of Texas at Arlington where I went to college. They saw me in my very first college audition for Dracula. I got a role in that—not as Dracula, but as the asylum keeper, Mr. Butterworth, I think my name was—something crazy like that. They recruited me for this ensemble of actors, and we were called the “Zero Hour.” We did, basically, very raunchy Saturday Night Live sketch comedy in pub clubs at midnight. Man, that was a training ground; that was rough. If you weren’t funny, they threw bottles at you. We all got a percentage of the door, so I think I might have made around 18 bucks for my very first professional gig. [But] I got paid to be an actor, man. That led to me doing the Front Row Company at Stage West in Fort Worth, which was a dinner theater, and I became one of the regulars there. At the same time, I was doing college theater at the University of Texas at Arlington, and I met Adam Roarke who was just opening up a group called the Film Actors Lab, which taught film technique.

So automatically, I was doing professional theater in Fort Worth. I was taking film classes—I was in the very first class ROUTE Magazine 49

that Adam ever did. I eventually rose to become a teacher there and helped them combine the classical training I was getting at college with the very practical film training that Adam was doing. That was literally my job when the audition for La Bamba came along in 1986. At that point, I had worked professionally in the Dallas-Fort Worth film industry for four or five years doing day player gigs. I was building a nice little résumé for somebody my age in the film industry. I was actually paying the bills by being an actor, which I was awfully proud of. Plus, there were not a lot of people that looked like me in the Dallas talent pool at that time. (Laughs) Quite honestly, any time a role came up for a young punk or a thug or a gangster, I was it. There were a lot of those roles early on. Then I got a call one day for this audition in a theater in downtown Dallas, and my agent got the information wrong. She said, “it’s a musical about Frankie Valli,” you know, from the Four Seasons, and I go, “What? Wow, okay.” I thought, sure, I’ll give it a shot. So, I walk in and I meet Junie Lowry (casting director) and Phil Esparza (associate producer), and find out, boom, this is not a musical about Frankie Valli; it’s a movie—a biopic—about Ritchie Valens.

So, I’m going, “what the heck is this Hollywood film doing here?” I find out later that it was Danny Valdez, Luis Valdez’s brother, the writer/director, who said, “Go to Texas. Go to Texas and see who’s there,” because they had already cast in New York, L.A., and Chicago, and hadn’t quite found what they wanted. So, they go to Texas for like two days, literally, a day in Dallas, and then they were going to pop down to Houston/San Antonio, I think. But I came in, and I read. I hadn’t even read the full script—we just got a couple of scenes. They weren’t putting everybody on videotape, but Junie asked me to hang around for a while to put me on video. So, they videotaped me at the end of the day, and then she gave me the full script, and said, “I think we’re going to be calling you back so get familiar with this.” It was just incredibly sweet of her; she went above and beyond because she just responded to what I did. Sure enough, two weeks later, I got flown out to Hollywood for the screen test, and the rest is history.

You were young when you did La Bamba, were you even aware of Ritchie Valens’ music?

I was more aware than most because I was a big fan of 50’s music. That’s pretty much because of my dad; he actually introduced me to a lot of different music like Simon and Garfunkel, Johnny Cash, Buddy Holly, and all of that. So, I knew who Ritchie was. I knew the song “La Bamba”; I was distantly aware of “Oh Donna,” because I’d gotten a lot of those “Sounds of the 50’s” compilations—you know, like six albums of 50’s music. (Laughs) So I was aware of him, but what was revelatory to me was that he was 17 years old and that his career was [only] eight months long. I felt the weight of representing him and his family from the beginning and trying to make sure that Ritchie got his due. I think without that film, he would’ve been a footnote in Buddy Holly’s story—much like J.P. Richardson, “The Big Bopper.”

The interesting thing is that I really, really do believe that, had he lived, Ritchie would have been an absolute pioneer; he would’ve been on the cutting edge. As I started doing research, I started realizing what an iconic and important figure Ritchie needs to be recognized as in the pantheon of rock and roll.

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I still remember the girl that I went to see it with at the theater. (Laughs) We both loved it.

You know, it’s so funny because it’s on Netflix again.

(Laughs). It’s like wow! It’s 32 years later…we’re coming up on it now. We made it in ‘86 so it’s 34 years since we filmed it.

But it’s still vibrant; it’s still relevant. It’s perennial. A whole new generation is discovering it, and it holds up, man.

You’ve played a lot of Latinos and some Native American characters, and, of course, you’re neither. Back then, when you were doing La Bamba, or even as you moved on and did Stand and Deliver and Young Guns, in the 80’s, was there much hoopla surrounding casting?

You know, it’s interesting because Luis Valdez met it head-on.

I’m trying to remember which group that he introduced me to, but it was one of the major Hispanic groups in Hollywood.

Meanwhile, by the way, he also introduced me to César Chavez (American labor leader and Latino American civil rights activist) during César’s 72-day fast, and I ended up fasting with him, passing the cross with him, and marching with the United Farm Workers. [Valdez] was like, “listen, Lou’s not Mexican-American.” He met it head-on and said, “This is the guy who had Ritchie’s heart.” The [Valenzuela] family was there during my screen test; they were there from like jump street, man. Bob Morales (Valens older brother) was there at the screen test, and he said to me as soon as I got cast, “I knew it was going to be you.” So, everybody that was intimate with the project had given me their blessing, and we extended that to everyone else. Suddenly, I was a representative of the community, and it set the standard for me for the rest of my career. I’m a mutt, man, am I supposed to wait around for a Filipino-Irish role to come along? (Laughs) I’d never work. I’ve been able to get cast for what I look like. In some cases, I’ve been able to cross over and play roles where the ethnicity didn’t matter. I think that’s where we all need to get as actors. We need to be actors with a capital “A,” and not try to underline the hyphen as much.

Then on Young Guns, the same thing; it was really quite wonderful because I got adopted into the Lakota Nation and given a name for the work I did there. That was through our technical advisor, Buddy Red Bow. Since then, I’ve also been adopted into the Cheyenne Nation for my work on Longmire, and once again, Marcus Red Thunder, our technical advisor, was instrumental in that. That’s because in every situation when I represent a community, I try to do it with respect; I try to do it with pride, and I try to do it with accuracy—to do my research. Most of the time, when given the opportunity, I will go to the source to do the research. For Longmire, as soon as I got the role, I got a hold of Marcus, bought my own ticket, and went up to the Lame Deer Reservation and hung out for a little bit. Because I think you have to have that understanding; you have to have that compassion and empathy with the characters that you portray—especially if they are underrepresented in the media. I try to never give a surface portrayal. Because of that, I think there has been a great deal of acceptance for me throughout the roles I’ve done.

I think we’ve come far, because if you will look at when I started in the industry, there were a handful of people who were ethnic—and by ethnic I mean Latino or Native or Asian; there weren’t really that many ‘stars’. There were some African American actors who had broken through. I’ve got to

tell you, I had this one amazing evening: I was in a restaurant in Los Angeles, and I saw Mr. Sidney Poitier. I had actually done The Tonight Show a couple years prior where he was on as a guest as well; we had said hello. So, I saw that his wife looked over and recognized me. I waited until he had finished eating, and I walked over to him, and I said “Mr. Poitier.” He was one of my heroes as well. I said, “Mr. Poitier., because of you, because you kicked down the door and what you did, because of you, I’m able to be a leading man today.” I went on and gushed a lot more than that, but Sidney Poitier, in his inimitable class and generosity, he literally put his hand on my shoulder and said, “Lou, you’re a leading man because you’re a good actor.” To me, that was 100% the distillation of my philosophy: Let your talent speak.

One of the other greatest compliments I ever got; In the movie Ambition, which I wrote, that’s the only other time I’ve played a Filipino, right? (Laughs) So, I wrote myself as Filipino, cast Dr. Haing Ngor, Oscar winner from the Killing Fields, as my father, and worked with Cecilia Peck. Cecilia invited me over to their house one evening, and I got to sit on their back porch with her father, Mr. Gregory Peck, and have a glass of wine. Mr. Peck said to me, “Lou, you put me in mind of my friend Tony Quinn,” and I was like, “Oh my! What a huge compliment,” because my path was very similar to what Anthony Quinn did in the 50’s and the 60’s. He played so many different nationalities, so many different communities, and represented them with pride and with dignity. I thought, if my path is at all similar to his, then I can be proud.

That’s a great story, and Anthony Quinn certainly is a legend.

My fight now is much more about the sort of thing where the boxes can get too small. What I’m worried about now is that there’s such specificity that a Korean actor can’t play an ersatz Asian role. The producers and the casting people, they’re all walking on eggshells because they’re so afraid of the backlash that they’re being overly specific, and in many cases, I think other actors are not getting opportunities because of it. And then there’s a whole generation, myself included, of mixed race actors that aren’t this enough or that enough.

You transitioned pretty quickly from that big hit right on to Young Guns where you went from being the star of the film to being part of a hot ensemble cast. What was it like working with Emilio and Charlie and, of course, Kiefer Sutherland?

All of a sudden, here I was in Young Guns with these established young actors in Hollywood. They called it the

“Brat Pack Western,” but really only Emilio was in the Brat Pack; the rest of us were tangential to that—we were Brat Pack adjacent. (Laughs) I’m the only ethnic member of the Brat Pack ever, [but] I never got my membership card.

(Laughs) But in that moment, I was like oh my! All of the sudden, I thought, I’m part of the Hollywood elite. I was so proud to be of that generation. It’s interesting because literally like a month before we started filming Young Guns, I’d run into Kiefer at the Beverly Center mall. He was coming out of a movie and I was going in, and we met and we hugged, and it was like, we gotta work together—we’ve got to find something and work together. Less than a month later, we were on the Young Guns set.

Out of those guys, were you closer to any of them in particular, more than the others?

You know, I’d have to say Kiefer—only because Kiefer and I ended up doing a lot of films together, and we’re still in contact. As a matter of fact, we were supposed to do a convention together in June.

I saw him just last year before I started shooting Prodigal Son. Kiefer and I have stayed in contact over, at least, 30 years.

We did, obviously, Young Guns 2 and Renegades together as well, and then a couple of other projects—I did the first season of 24. So, Kiefer and I were pretty tight for a very long time. I actually just spoke to Emilio like last month and caught up with him. And Dermot Mulroney has done a three-episode arc on Prodigal Son. We’re all still kicking and all still doing well.

Every single time we end up seeing each other, it’s as if no time has passed. We fill in the blanks, we catch up, but that feeling of camaraderie and brotherhood is still there.

You had all of this success coming at you quickly, and Hollywood can be quite destructive when you’re young.

What was that experience like for you to go from a Texan actor to suddenly you’re on the world stage and all of your projects are having so much commercial success?

Yeah man, I’d say early on I got some advice from some very cool people. I always said to myself, “this is going to change my life; I’m not going to let it change me.” I remember, like on a Thursday night, I was having a beer with Danny Valdez—we ended up becoming very close—but the Thursday before [La Bamba] opened, Danny said to me, “we’re about to hand you the keys to the candy store; don’t rot your teeth.”

Obviously, I never forgot that, and then one other profound statement: We did a premier of the film up in Watsonville where we had filmed the apricot picking sequence, and that ROUTE Magazine 51

It seems like there’s something in the water in Texas that really keeps people true to themselves and true to staying grounded.

Yeah, I mean, you got a lot of people around you who are more than happy to call bullshit. (Laughs) If you get too big for your britches, as they say, they’ll be happy to get you back in line. My dad still lives down in Texas; he lives in Corpus Christi, and I get down there fairly often. He grew up in North Carolina; he was in the navy; he was in Texas. My mom was a housewife. For lack of a better way of putting it, they raised me right. I was not entitled, and I was not enabled, and certainly didn’t have a silver spoon in my mouth when I was fortunate enough to get my big break. In many ways, I had been working for it. That’s what I tell you about young actors today; everybody sort of sees instant success. I call it the “American Idol phenomenon,” where they think that they’re going to get famous overnight. There’s so much more of that now with YouTube and the Internet; you’ve got people that are Instagram famous—and they’re actually getting jobs because of it. But it’s not the same, man. It’s hitting the pavement, taking the acting classes, having to pay for your own headshots, having to pay for your own lessons, and going to the auditions and dealing with all that rejection. There’s something about making your way and paying your dues in that way that I think helps you respect what you’ve got when you finally get it.

In your teens, you were accepted to Yale and to the U.S. Naval Academy, which would’ve given you some great opportunities, but instead you made the decision to stick in Texas and go to the University of Texas in Arlington.

What made you pass up some really golden opportunities that a lot of people would die for and just stick in Texas?

was with all the farm workers. Pretty much every extra in those sequences, and there were hundreds, were farm workers.

So, we did the big premier there for them, and Esai [Morales] and I just got mobbed—I mean, like mobbed. We finally got to the back room of a little restaurant where we were all going to have dinner, and I ended up sitting next to Helen Mirren. I just adore that woman, I idolize her and had before I even met her. I ended up sitting next to Helen, and I was a little flustered that I had all the attention, and I whispered to her, “Man, maybe one of these days I’ll get used to this.” She put her hand on my arm, and she said, “Oh no dear boy, don’t get used to it, because then you’ll think it’s normal.” I’ve never forgotten that either. I was 24 years-old when we filmed La Bamba, so I wasn’t necessarily a kid, and there were a lot of friends of mine—who are still friends of mine today [and] were with me in the Film Actors Lab in Dallas, and you know the classic phrase, “I knew you when…” So, they kept me grounded; they kept me real. I would go back to Texas fairly often. Even though it was very heady; even though it was glamorous, and it was easy to get stars in your eyes, there was a part of me that was always able to keep my feet on the ground.

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Wow man, there’s a reason behind all of that! First of all, getting into Yale was huge, and I remember having the conversation with my father. You have to understand, this was 1979, and it was the realization that we couldn’t afford it. It broke my dad’s heart. We just couldn’t afford to send me there—even though I was top of my class. There just wasn’t a scholarship program that was big enough for me to be able to go. So that got taken off the table. I will also say, in this day and age, that whole college admissions scandal, I took that very personally. I was very, very angry at those people, because to cut corners like that and to cheat and to lie, there’s a lot of people out there like me: middle class kids that don’t get that kind of opportunity. I had that opportunity, and I couldn’t afford it. So, it really offends me when people would do that and have no integrity about it; that just really bugs me.

Getting accepted into the Naval Academy, that was a big deal too, and again it was my dad. It was George who said, “man you don’t have to do that. I know you want to be an actor. You don’t have to follow my path.” So that was sort of amazing that he would discourage me from doing that just knowing that my dreams were very different than his. And my opportunities were different than his. So, he was the first one to go, don’t do that.

Interestingly enough, that decision to go to the University of Texas at Arlington, to circle back to the very beginning of our conversation, that put me in a place where I became a professional actor right away. If I had gone to Yale, I wouldn’t have been doing leads until my senior

year; I certainly wouldn’t have been doing professional work outside of the academic world. By being there in Arlington, right in the middle of Dallas-Fort Worth, there were opportunities that I didn’t even know existed until I got there. Sometimes a university just leads you in the right direction. That put me there, and that opened up the whole world to me, and I’m very grateful to it to this day.

As a matter of fact, I’m still on the advisory board for the University of Texas at Arlington, and I just spoke there a couple years ago. So again, trying to maintain those connections and to do things, as we were talking about earlier, to never forget where you came from.

You lost your birth father very early on. I know you adopted your stepfather’s last name, but did you go through a time where you were really searching for who your dad was?

Yes and no, because, George Phillips, he and my mom got married when I was two or two and a half—something like that. He was really the only father I was aware of. Now, I heard a lot about my birth father growing up from my cousins and obviously from my Grandmother on my father’s side— from the Caucasian family that I have in Georgia. I remained pretty close to them growing up; I’m still very close with my first cousin David who’s a chocolatier in San Francisco.

There’s a lot of mystery around [my dad], and there’s a certain mythology, if you will, that grows up around somebody like my biological father. He was a very charismatic guy; he was very well-liked and well-loved. You kind of get these stories that are anecdotal. I think as I got older, I could see that I have this or that quality from him. It becomes that whole nature versus nurture question: What did I acquire from being raised

by George, and what did I have in my DNA? I will say, I had written a play that became a screenplay, which will probably become a novel, that kind of draws from that phenomenon of not really knowing a parent and trying to fill in the blanks.

It’s called My Father’s Eyes, and it will probably be the second novel that I tackle—after I complete the one that I’m working on now.

You’re a father of four daughters. That’s a lot of sleepless nights.

(Laughs) Yes and no, man. The funny thing is that I can’t even imagine having boys now—I really can’t. It’s so bizarre to me. You know, Indigo being twelve now, I mean it’s hilarious; she’s keeping me young. My older girls, they’re all amazingly gorgeous, but they got the foundation early on.

I didn’t have sleepless nights because I didn’t worry about them. They all have great heads on their shoulders; they’re all smart girls; they all know their own self-worth. Quite honestly, I didn’t have to deal with too many shenanigans growing up. They’re all really good girls. I feel very fortunate in that respect. They’re smart, and they’ve got amazing

futures ahead of them. I try not to push them one way or the other too much, and I’m here for them whenever they want advice, but they are all artistically inclined—we’ll see how much they want to pursue it.

Did you guys intentionally decide how you were going to raise your daughters in the celebrity culture—in the spotlight?

It was perhaps a conscious decision, but it also came out of who I am—to be honest. We can go back to that question of not losing yourself once success and Hollywood happens for you; not forgetting who you are and where you came from, and when you become a father, if that means anything to you, then you prioritize. For me, it became a very simple exercise: At home, I’m dad; that’s who I am; I’m not “Lou Diamond Phillips”. I’m not forcing everybody to watch my work; the world does not revolve around me. I take out the trash; I cook dinner; I wash the dishes; I pick up the dog poop. It really is just like: Live a normal life at home.

Texas plays a very important role as part of Route 66—up in the Panhandle. Have you been on the historic highway?

Tons! Speaking of Route 66, there’s a couple of stories recently.

First of all, I was directing an episode of Fear The Walking Dead in Austin, and my wife, Yvonne, — who is German, among other things—but her uncle, Dieter, had come over to visit. He had never seen Las Vegas, so as soon as I finished [shooting], we flew to Vegas, spent a couple of days there, and decided to drive home on Route 66, because he knew so much about it. He had seen a documentary and had been reading about it in Germany forever, but had never been on it. He was fascinated by it. So, we went on Route 66 and stopped at every diner to get a shake.

In California, we stopped at Elmer’s Bottletree Ranch and all of that great stuff—just so he could say that he had done it. We got some amazing photos of the place. It’s just beautiful! It’s crazy, and there it is out in the middle of nowhere, man. If you’re zipping by you could miss it easily.

It was a blast!

We also stopped over in Seligman, Arizona, and had a burger and a shake at the Snowcap. It has just a ton of 50’s memorabilia. Dieter loves his hamburgers, but just go to a 50’s diner and have a burger and a shake, man. I’m pretty sure we scoured the walls for La Bamba memorabilia, and I think there was one picture of Ritchie in there.

But, also coming to New York to film Prodigal Son, we have five cats and a dog, so we made it a road trip. We took a little bit of a detour and went up to see the Grand Canyon because both Yvonne and Indigo had never seen it. But then we dropped back down and hit Route 66 again and went through Amarillo, through the Panhandle, and didn’t start heading north again till we hit Oklahoma City.

We played every version of the (Route 66) song as we went along. (Laughs) There’s actually some great versions, man.

“We stopped at Elmer’s Bottletree Ranch and got some amazing photos of the place. It’s just beautiful! It’s crazy, and there it is out in the middle of nowhere, man. If you’re zipping by you could miss it easily.”

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You traveled the highway with a European who was passionate about classic Americana. What do you think draws such people into Route 66 and that identity of America?

That’s a very good question, and it’s a very wide-ranging question to be honest, because I’ve seen that same phenomenon, for instance, with Native American nations as well. There’s this respect. Europeans come over because they’re fascinated by the culture and what not, and in many instances, people in this country take it for granted. I think that when it travels, it gains this mythology; it gains this stature that is legendary and iconic. It is Americana. People think of the American cowboy or they think of the American car from that (1950’s) era as well and the diners.

You just look at all the iconography that’s been built up over the decades: your 50’s diners, your drive-ins, the cars, the road trips.

It is very symbolic of America, Americans, and the American spirit. It’s part of the success story of America; it’s part of the American dream—that freedom—that prosperity, where you can just get in your car with your family and experience things.

So, what do you think causes Americans not to have that same level of interest to get out and see the American dream and experience vintage America for themselves?

You know, it’s interesting, man. With so much at our fingertips, we try to bring it to us as opposed to us going to it. That’s just me “philosophizing” for a moment. With the Internet, instant video, you can take these video tours—you can buy an apartment by taking a virtual tour, but it’s not the same thing. It’s just not the same thing. I could probably get drone footage, but does that mean that I’ve seen them? I don’t think so, and yet there’s this mindset now: I don’t need to leave my house. (Laughs) I very much like the detour that we took on the trip out here.

Yvonne had seen pictures of the Grand Canyon, but it’s an entirely different thing to stand there at the precipice and look at it and feel the wind blow through your hair and get a sense of the depth. It’s just not the same. I think that the Internet has given us so many great things, but in some ways, it is a disservice because it’s a false reality.

Now, nobody wants to take the time to go and do it; that’s the thing too, you know? Way back when, that was the dream.

When Americans thought about retirement, it’s like ‘oh, I’ll have time to do this; I’ll have time to do that.’ Americans today, myself included—and my kids, time just gets eaten up with everything else, and you don’t take the time to go and physically do things as much anymore.

When you were shooting Longmire, which was mostly shot in New Mexico, were you staying in Santa Fe? Yeah, the entire six years we were based in Santa Fe, and for five of those I had the most wonderful Casita—basically a townhouse—up in Bishop’s Lodge. It was a little higher up and had a ridiculous view of the sunset every night. It was really wonderful, and I love Santa Fe, but it’s a very quaint, sleepy little town. I got a lot of writing done there, which doesn’t surprise me.

Did you ever get over to Las Vegas, New Mexico? I know the show shot some scenes there too.

One hundred percent! That was the town square of our mythical Absaroka County. No Country For Old Men, that 54 ROUTE Magazine

amazing sequence was shot there as well. We spent a lot of time in Las Vegas—we got all over the place around Santa Fe, because the show was set in Wyoming—we had to get away from the red rock; we had to get away from the adobe.

So, we would go up to Los Alamos; we would go up to Red River. The sheriff’s cabin was up in Valles Caldera, which was a much higher elevation. We used to call it a “white van show” because the crew would always have to jump in the van and go report the location. You’d have to drive an hour to get to anywhere we were shooting—unless we were on the sound stages, which were at the Garson Studios right there in Santa Fe.

You’ve done a few scary films: 2001’s Route 666, and then, of course, in 2016, The Night Stalker. Are you a big fan of scary movies?

I am, man! Not exclusively, but I’m a fan of all genres.

(Laughs) I’m a huge fan of The Walking Dead; such a fan that they had me on the “Talking Dead” couch twice, and that pretty much led to me directing an episode of [Fear The Walking Dead], which was a fantastic experience. So yeah, I love that genre and the the fact that there are hybrids of that genre as well. A lot of the research that I did (for not only The Night Stalker, but for The First Power), comes in very handy. I rode around with detective Bob Grogan who was one of the guys who caught the Hillside Strangler back in the day. I also spent some time with detective Gil Carrillo who was the co-head of the taskforce that was trying to catch Richard Ramirez, and he’s a profiler. So, I was able to get an amazing amount of research from both of those guys, and when I got Prodigal Son, as a major crimes lieutenant at the NYPD, I basically brought my research with me.

In doing darker roles or representing those types of darker characters, is there any risk as an actor? Do you carry heavier roles with you longer or can you shake them off when the director says “cut”?

(Laughs) You know, for your own mental health you have to find a way to flip the switch. There are certainly people that dive so deep that it starts to affect them physically; that’s not me. I discovered early on—probably in my late 20’s or early 30’s—that the best way to get some of my best work was to relax. I was working really, really hard; I was really intense. I’ve discovered now how to reset the needle between takes and between setups. It really helps— especially in playing something like Richard Ramirez.

Do you have any bucket list actors that you would love to work with?

So many! I’ve not only met Al Pacino and De Niro, but I’m partners at the Tribeca Grill here in New York City—in Manhattan. I was an original partner going back to 1990 when we opened. I still go there quite a lot, I’m very proud of the place, but I’ve never acted with Bobby; I’ve never acted with Pacino. Meryl Streep, are you kidding me? I’d crawl through broken glass to work with Meryl.

Check out Lou in Prodigal Son on FOX and keep an eye open for Lou’s new book Tinderbox: Soldier of Indira, coming soon!

ROUTE Magazine 55

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estled alongside the serene flow of the Mississippi River, the town of Alton, Illinois, welcomes Route 66ers with attractions like Fast Eddie’s Bon Air bar and the site of Abraham Lincoln’s first (and only) duel. This may appear as par for the course in terms of Mother Road content, but around Alton’s unassuming exterior, floats a superstitious aura. Regarded as one of the most haunted places in America, the small town boasts a plethora of ghostly venues like the McPike Mansion and the First Unitarian Church, where reports of supernatural phenomena, like a piano playing a tune by itself, abound.

However, nothing really seems off as you cruise through town. What you will discover is simply a neighborly AllAmerican community with welcoming residents and white picket fences. That is until an impeccably black hearse pulls out of a grocery store lot and bursts into your vision. In the driver’s seat will likely be Janet Kolar, who at 83, is a living testament to her town’s spooky side. A human body and paranormal event aficionado, Kolar’s peculiar interests have led her down some curious career paths. She has held jobs as everything from a physician’s assistant to a tour guide at Alton’s haunted Mineral Springs Hotel where she once held regular séances in the basement pool. While she has since retired from these eccentric roles, she continues to own and curate the equally one-of-a-kind Curiosity Museum.

Entertaining guests since 2017, the Museum locates itself in the aforementioned Mineral Springs Hotel and contains a vast archive of Kolar’s own creepy collection. The splendor includes vintage viewfinders, medical quackery devices, and even a bonafide vampire killing kit. But before the Curiosity 56 ROUTE Magazine

Photograph courtesy of Matt Marcinkowski.

A CURIOUS COLLECTION

Museum gripped the imagination of its guests, Kolar ran another, much smaller museum in the hotel that sent shivers down the spines of many unassuming tourists. “It used to be the Historic Museum of Torture Devices,” explained Janet. “Actually, the torture devices [in the museum] are all replications. I [had] them made, but they’re historically accurate.”

The origins of this macabre attraction – as well as Janet’s fascination with collecting eerie objects – took root in 2005 when Janet and her children took a trip to Prague to learn about their family history. While they didn’t discover much about their ancestors, they did happen upon a torture themed museum that inspired Kolar to create her own.

“It was a real eye opener, because the devices were there, and it’s not like reading about something in a book,” she explained. “There’s very little written anyway. It’s not the kind of history that you get in school, ordinarily. It was emotional too, just thinking about the people, and the way they suffered when they were tortured.” But there was also another reason that drew Kolar to the devices. “I was interested in torture because of the effects on the body, and what the most common cause of death was.”

Without missing a beat, Janet opened the Museum of Historic Torture Devices in Wisconsin Dells that same year, traveling back and forth from Alton to operate it during the spring and summer months. The Museum reaped polarizing results from its myriad of visitors. “It was busy with a lot of tourists. And some people liked it very much, and others thought it was disgusting. [But] it made for conversation with the people that came there,” said Kolar.

After three fulfilling years of educating and unnerving the Dells, Janet sold the Museum in 2008 – though this wouldn’t end her teaching folks about pain inflicting devices. Janet brought her replicated torture tools back home with the hopes of introducing them to a new public. In 2011, she opened up the Historic Museum of Torture Devices in Alton, choosing the site of her séance days as its host. However, just like the former museum up in Wisconsin, the reception in Alton came with a mixed bag – that is, until Janet decided to reinvent her approach.

In 2015, while the torture museum was still running, Kolar began amassing abnormal souvenirs, which included finding and buying a meteorite online. Eventually, this hobby ballooned into a full-blown, archive-level assemblage. With so many stockpiled oddities, Janet integrated them into the Museum and reopened her establishment in 2017 as the Curiosity Museum. “I had a lot of things I was collecting, and I wanted to expand the Museum to include different kinds of [items].” The reimagined attraction has been an immense success with its many visitors embracing the weird and wacky pieces in the collection. Amongst the trove of bizarre treasures are a Soviet rocket launcher and a device named the “Wheel of Death”, which guests can spin to find out how they are going to die. Kolar guarantees you’ll get your money back if the Wheel is wrong.

Even though her sadistic instruments no longer own the spotlight, Janet still openly displays the torture devices in the Museum for those interested in learning more about them and their violent history. If you wish to see them – or want to add some supernatural spice to your Route 66 journey – take a day trip to Alton, spend some time along the tranquil Mississippi, and pop into the Curiosity Museum for an unorthodox, but once in a lifetime stop.

FIND GREAT escapes IN SOUTHWEST ILLINOIS WITH GREAT RIVERS AND ROUTES ALTON | COLLINSVILLE | EDWARDSVILLE | GLEN CARBON | GODFREY | GRAFTON MADISON | JERSEY | CALHOUN | MACOUPIN | MONTGOMERY | GREENE | COUNTIES

RIVERSANDROUTES.COM ROUTE Magazine 57

THE AMBLER’S TEX ACO S TAT I O N

A

t a time when Americans traveled the country on roads surrounded by seemingly endless farmland, one man dreamt of constructing his very own gas station in the heart of that prairie expanse. And despite over eighty years, in a constantly shifting environment, full of turnover and name changes, that dream has set the record as the longest running service station on the Mother Road.

The Ambler’s Texaco Service Station, at the intersection of Route 17 and Route 66 in the Village of Dwight, Illinois, proudly welcomes travelers to small town America. Beneath its refurbished charming cottage-like facade lies a piece of history with a story as old as the Mother Road herself.

In 1933, seven years after Route 66 was commissioned, the Lone Ranger debuted on American radio, prohibition was fully repealed, and Franklin D. Roosevelt was sworn in as the 32nd President. The Village of Dwight had bloomed into a bustling center of commerce. This was the year that Jack Schore, assisted by his son Paul, built his gas station, consisting of an office with an arched roof and a sheltering canopy extending over three Texaco gas pumps. The design, developed by Standard Oil of Ohio in 1916, a housecanopy style and strategic to the time, was believed to help gas stations blend in with residential neighborhoods.

In 1936, Schore leased and later sold the station to Vernon Von Qualen who renamed it Vernon’s Texaco Station.

Shortly after, Basil (Tubby) Ambler bought it, changing the name to the Ambler Texaco Gas Station. Ambler, a World War II veteran and storyteller at heart, was known to keep a couch in his station to offer a homey feel for weary travelers and create an audience for his tantalizing tales; he had a penchant for regaling people with stories about the time he worked at the Keeley Institute, a world-renowned alcoholic treatment center that hosted the rich and famous, which was first established in Dwight. Route 66 was teaming with traffic, and sometime in the 1940s, Ambler added the service bay area, keeping the station open 24 hours a day. It not only became a filling and service station, but a friendly refuge for locals and motorists. Ambler owned the station from 1938 to 1966, laying claim to the longest period of its ownership.

The property changed tenants twice again before Phil Becker purchased it in 1970. Becker had spent his childhood around the station, during the Ambler ownership, and worked at the station up until he bought it. However, just a year later, Texaco discontinued supplying gasoline and Becker switched to Marathon Oil. The Texaco pumps were replaced by 1960s style Marathon pumps and the station became the Phil Becker’s Marathon Gas Station. Throughout the years of constant 58 ROUTE Magazine

change, new and modern businesses sprouted up around the station, altering the cultural and physical geographies of the area. The Interstate redirected traffic away from the once thriving station, and gasoline was dispensed for the last time, in 1999. After running the station for 26 years, the Becker’s leased it out as an auto repair shop and in 2004, Phil and his wife Debbie, donated the building to the Village of Dwight.

“In Illinois, it seems like there is a town every ten miles on Route 66, so each little town has to do something that will get the tourists to stop,” said Kevin McNamara, administrator for the Village of Dwight. “So, we try to encourage them – don’t try to get through Illinois in one or two days. Relax, take your time, meet the people, and spend time in Illinois. And in the same respect, spend time in Dwight.”

To this end, the classic station has been restored back to its 1930s (main office and canopy area) and 1940s (service bay) appearance. Old cash registers, historic automotive memorabilia, tools and display cases from the 66 years that it serviced motorists, are on display, creating a time capsule of an era when radiant neon giants lit up the two-lane road.

With the push of a button, audio recordings transports visitors to a period when full personalized service was the norm and when quintessential small-town America still existed. A fully restored Model-T, Dwight’s first fire truck, speaks to a time when life moved at a more leisurely pace.

Upkeep of this historic station relies heavily on the selfless efforts of volunteers from Dwight and the surrounding area.

The chance to engage with people from varying countries and cultures inspires the majority of the volunteers. “It’s the best part-time job I’ve ever had,” said Bob Ohlendorf, leader of the Dwight Economic Alliance. “We have people coming in from [over] 68 different countries, so it’s a chance for [volunteers] to kinda strut their stuff. People are starting to take shifts where they can get their grandkids to come out to help them, just for the exposure.”

The Ambler’s Texaco Station today serves as both the literal and metaphorical welcome center to that sense of American authenticity that travelers are searching for. The Becker’s donation has made countless international connections possible, keeping a crucial element of America’s story alive.

The small haven of Dwight presents the ideal opportunity to revel in the nostalgia of Route 66 Americana. With people coming from Las Cruces to Luxembourg, the consistently rising tourist numbers show that the Ambler’s Texaco Station is truly a highlight for many trips along America’s Main Street and a destination where a little extra time is needed.

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HALFWAY

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THERE

By Nick Gerlich Photographs by Efren Lopez/Route66Images

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A

t the turn of the 20th Century, a survey team from the Choctaw, Oklahoma, and Texas Railroad crossed the vast plains of the Texas Panhandle in search of a suitable path for their westward expansion.

They settled on a site for their station 22 miles east of what would one day be the New Mexico State line.

This new community was named for an early settler, Adrian Cullen, and in just a quick few years, the Ozark Trail sent a tendril of its highway network west from Amarillo. Adrian quickly became an important and bustling hub, serving ranchers between Amarillo and points westward. In 1926, that road was christened Route 66. What no one realized at the time was that tiny Adrian was smack dab in the middle between Chicago and LA, a destination that is American as apple pie.

But for people to finally take notice of this remote town, a small café had to put a slice of that pie on a plate and serve it.

Slice of Life The Texas Panhandle has long attracted humans and their livestock—if only for its wide-open spaces and ocean of grass—but it is a tough place to call home. Author and descendant of some of the first settlers to Adrian, Paula Chamlee said, “The winds can be fierce and unrelenting, the winters bitter, the rainfall scant, and the neighbors are often few and far between.”

It is into this tableau vivant that a café was born so long ago that the collective historical account varies by two decades and includes a cast of characters long enough to fit a phonebook.

Long before the interstate, when life on the two-lane was traveled out of necessity and not something people generally did for enjoyment as nostalgic tourists do today, the smalltown diner was a roadside staple. The Midpoint Cafe in Adrian is a shining example of this and claims the title of the oldest continuously operated café between Amarillo and Tucumcari, feeding locals, ranchers, and the people traveling along 66 since 1928.

Or 1948. It depends on who you ask, and even the Oldham County Appraisal District is of no help. Let’s just say that memories and resources among recent owners differ a bit, even if it is a whopping score of years at stake. The main point is that the Midpoint Cafe continues to dish out epic food with a slice of American Pie for dessert, something that they have been known to do for decades—however many you count.

History 101 The story of the Midpoint Cafe can be broken down into two eras, before and after 1990. Prior to that year, several owners, of which very little is known, scraped out a living on the side of a dusty road that once held national designation, but was left in the ditch once the freeways were built. From 1990 onward, though, the record is much more lucid, thanks to the 62 ROUTE Magazine

ownership of Fran Houser (1990-2012), Dennis Purschwitz (2012-2018), and Brenda Hammit-Bradley (2018-present).

But from what we know, it all started nearly a century ago with Zella Crim, a local woman who rented a space that is now the present-day gift shop from Jeannie VanderWort. Whatever else we can gather is that Zella must have been an early prototype of the Pioneer Woman: a no nonsense woman willing to give it a go in hardscrabble West Texas, feeding the farmers and ranchers, and, according to what Purschwitz discovered in his research, gaining a widespread reputation for her take on some lone star BBQ sauce.

Multiple sources cite 1928 as when Crim opened her eponymous café, which would put it two years after Route 66 was born and 15 years after the Ozark Trail came to town.

Dub Edmunds and Jess Fincher, a former Navy cook, bought the café in 1956 and ran it until 1976. During their tenure, the pair added a service station with a twobay next door (which is now Houser’s Sunflower Station gift shop), as well as greatly expanding the restaurant, which included building a second-story apartment in 1965. Then operating as “Jesse’s,” the café started being known for the pies that Fincher made, which were so good that they earned the reputation of selling out before they could even cool—really bringing the phrase “selling like hotcakes,” to life.

A fairly quick order of succession followed with Terry and Peggy Creitz taking over for a few years and renaming it Peggy’s followed by 10 years with Annie and Bob Wood at the helm under the same name. In the late-1980s, a young woman named Rachel and her boyfriend bought it and renamed it Rachel’s. There were also a couple of fires in the apartment, and ultimately the roof was reconfigured to its current shape.

Finally, in 1990, Houser bought it and renamed it the Adrian Cafe. Another five years would pass before she renamed it to the current Midpoint Cafe. Needless to say, the café has seen a lot of love and even more transition.

The Last 30 Years Good fortune put Fran Houser in Adrian during the 1980s.

Following a divorce on the east coast, she ended up in her native Texas for a second marriage and subsequent divorce.

“I got it quite by accident, I guess,” she laughed. A newly single woman, she needed to find work. “I moved to Adrian and didn’t want to drive back and forth to Amarillo. And here came the café.” With the precision of an advertising copywriter, “Get your sips on Route 66” became her catchphrase.

However, it was the 1990s that brought a surge of nostalgiadriven, Route 66 traffic. With this wave came several authors, each gracing Houser’s door in rather serendipitous manners.

“Tom Snyder [author of Route 66: Traveler’s Guide and Roadside Companion] called around 1995 and said, ‘Franny,

A busy day at the Midpoint.

you are at the exact geo-mathematical midpoint of old Route 66. Get a website, get yourself a store in there, push your logo, and make it happen’,” Houser remembered. Apparently, Snyder had gotten out a calculator and started adding up numbers.

It was early Route 66 books by Snyder (1990), Michael Wallis (1990), and Quinta Scott and Susan Croce Kelly (1988) that sparked newfound interest in the road that had been decommissioned by 1985.

With this fresh swell of excitement afoot, Houser renamed her coffee klatsch, got new signage, and the rest is history.

Never mind that Snyder’s calculations depended entirely on an alignment of Route 66 that only existed for a short period of time (2278 miles) and was eventually lost to the many times the route changed throughout the years. Consequently, the precise midpoint of the Mother Road moved around continuously, but since no one had claimed it as theirs, Houser did…for herself and the town.

It was in 1996 that fortune struck again, this time in the form of Joann Harwell, who was the local Chamber of Commerce Director. “One day she was over for lunch, saw that we were overwhelmed, and said that she was going to pitch in. I said to her, ‘Joann, I don’t know what I’m going to do. I don’t have a pie maker’.”

Joann replied, “Well, I have my grandmother’s recipe. Let me come over in the evening and help you out.” And that was the start of Ugly Crust Pie, the result of Joann’s self-deprecating humor, and the beginning of a new career as pastry chef at the Midpoint. “I’m just going to have to call them Ugly Crust,

because I can’t make them nearly as pretty as my grandmother did,” Houser quoted her.

Between the name change and the pies, sinfully delicious trivia and dessert made Houser a celebrity in her own right.

“We were seeing it. The riders were coming along the road.

All those early authors were traveling the road. That’s when we saw the big influx of international travelers,” and at a time when the local crowd was dwindling.

By 2012 however, Houser was looking for an exit strategy. “I was getting older and developing carpal tunnel. My excellent help was all going on to college. Joann told me she only had one more year to make the pies and cobblers. So, I said, ‘Joann, we’re a dog and pony show, and I think it’s time to sell’.”

Enter Dennis Purschwitz, an engineer from Tennessee who was looking for a mid-life career shake-up. Even though his foodservice experience extended as far as his high school days, he was determined, much like Houser, to buy the business.

“Dennis was the most persistent one. He would call me on his drive from work to home and ask, ‘How’s our little café doing?’ At the time he just seemed so taken with it.”

It was a tip from the late Gary Turner, proprietor of Gay Parita station near Springfield, Missouri, that initially influenced Purschwitz. “Gary recommended it and said, ‘Hey, did you know that it is for sale?’” Purshwitz and his wife, already running a week late on a trip that they view in hindsight as part of a divine plan to purchase the restaurant, made their way to Amarillo, arriving in Adrian 15 minutes before Houser was scheduled to close.

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A seed was planted; he started talking to her about purchasing the café in July 2011. While the two went back and forth quite a few times, they finally met eye to eye on the transaction with Purschwitz closing on March 5, 2012, and then opening for business 16 days later.

Alas, Purschwitz’s tenure was brief, exacerbated by health problems and complicated by a spat with Joann, who left with her recipes and trademark for Ugly Crust Pies. Necessity thus caused Purschwitz to learn how to bake pies, which he did with great success, naming them Midpoint Ugly Pies. It was also during this stint that he made significant improvements to the Midpoint sign across the street; with the help of the Texas DOT, Purschwitz layed brick pavers, constructed a camera stand so people could take selfies, and painted a rather arbitrary line across the road. He also catapulted the Midpoint into the 21st Century by promoting the café heavily on social media.

Brenda Hammit-Bradley came to Adrian in 1996 after a life of running racehorses in Colorado and worked for Purschwitz throughout his spell of ownership before taking the reins herself. Ready to adopt her new town, HammitBradley arrived in Adrian with a purpose: help her husband’s family on their farm and lend a hand with his grandfather who was living with Alzheimer’s. Her husband had grown up in the small farming town and the couple deemed it important to keep their family united.

Purschwitz remained available for consultation during her 2018 transition year, but she has since evolved into a restaurateur in her own right.

The Stars at Night Being located on Route 66 in the shadow of a transcontinental interstate highway practically ensures that a few celebrities will drift through town from time to time—if only to stretch their legs and snap a few photos. But when Fran Houser. they visit your café, it’s quite another thing, and the Midpoint has had no shortage of A-list talent dine between its walls.

“Bryan Cranston… bless his heart… I didn’t even know who he was,” Houser recalled. “He was just as kind and gracious to people as he could be.” Cranston was on hiatus from his role as Walter White in Breaking Bad and was traveling Route 66 west-to-east on motorcycle with his brother-in-law.

Having arrived a little too early for food, they waited and greeted Houser when she arrived. Houser told them it might be a little while before the food was ready and went inside, disappearing into the kitchen to work, oblivious to what was happening in the dining area. Cranston had noticed customers coming in and realized that Houser was in the process of getting slammed, so he took it upon himself to help out, pouring coffee and taking orders.

It took a vigilant patron to alert Houser on what was happening: “Do you know who your waiter is?” he whispered when he entered the kitchen. After a quick explanation, Houser came out to meet the six-time Emmy Award-winning star 64 ROUTE Magazine

under slightly different pretenses. Everyone else in the place immediately recognized Mr. White—um, Mr. Cranston—and the joke was on Fran Houser.

“And then there was Matthew McConaughey. There again, I didn’t know who was in the front because I was in the back,” she said with a laugh. A friend at the visitor center in Amarillo called Houser a little later that day and asked, “Did you have a chance to meet Matthew McConaughey? He stopped at the tourist bureau, and we told him about your place.”

After nearly missing out on a world-famous customer again, Houser finally began to learn a lesson about the downside of being the only cook. “A month later [McConaughey] was on Ellen Degeneres, and he told Ellen what he had been doing all summer. ‘I had the best burger and piece of pie I ever had,’” she beamed. It’s hard to beat publicity like that.

But wait, there’s more! “We’ve had William Shatner here in the last three years,” Hammit-Bradley chimed in. “He told me it was the best bologna sandwich he ever ate!”

Country band Sawyer Brown have come in several times through the years, to the point that they know to call in advance to see if things are busy so that they could then make themselves at home.

But the most life-changing celebrities to cross the threshold, though, were the crew from Pixar Studios. The team included the legendary animator John Lasseter and was headed by an exuberant tour guide, author Michael Wallis, who was showing them Route 66 in preparation for the Cars movie.

“It was all hush-hush,” Houser said, almost in a whisper. “None of us along the road knew what was going on.”

“It was a very slow Saturday afternoon. These three Cadillacs showed up with the horns, you know? My waitress Christina saw them, grabbed a few bumper stickers, and went out to greet them.

This big burley guy swept her off her feet and swung her around. It was Michael Wallis; he knew her from previous trips.” The animators and ‘imagineers’ stopped by during future trips, Houser detailed, which ultimately wound up with her becoming the inspiration for the character Flo. Life is never boring out on the road.

Romancing the Route Route 66 has long attracted wanderlust-stricken travelers, dreamers, poets, and entrepreneurs. Those businesspeople who arrived prior to 1985 did so because they saw potential profit to be derived from the cast of folks chasing their whimsy. It is in this modern era, with movies like Cars and the 150 plus books underlying it, that Route 66 just seems like the great American place to hang one’s shingle—even if it might not make the most economic sense in some cases.

When Houser took over in 1990, Route 66 had already been decommissioned for five years. Worse yet, the old road through town had been bypassed by Interstate 40 around 1969, and

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Brenda Hammit-Bradley behind the counter.

Route 66 was overlaid along the new freeway. This sobering change left Adrian with only local traffic or random road trippers wanting to take the exit ramp in search of food or gas.

“There were hard times. Help was scarce. Every summer I hired students from our town. We had a lot more kids around here back then. We had farm kids, town kids. They knew how to work,” Houser lamented.

In more recent years, though, Purschwitz and HammitBradley were among numerous businesspeople who bought in to the Route 66 mystique at its height—despite the fact that it might not have been their original plan. “It was never my intention of thinking that I could be a Route 66 business owner. It just happened. It just fell in place,” said Purschwitz.

But the prospect looked as good as the pie on his plate, and he persisted until it was his.

They, along with others up and down the road from Chicago to Santa Monica, were driven in large part by the allure around owning a piece of the action on 66 for themselves, a romantic feeling made even warmer ever since Cars shined on the Silver Screen.

“It’s not so much the road, it’s the people. When the opportunity was presented to me, I really thought it would be a good fit,” Purschwitz continued. “The main reason I purchased it was not because it was available, but because of the location.”

As Houser (both before and after she learned of the café’s significance), Purschwitz, and Hammit-Bradley came to learn running a business along the Mother Road is no small task.

Given that the freeway carries the bulk of through-traffic, small towns along the Route are drying up. Moreover, due to the fact that Route 66 travelers are seasonal, it is challenging to keep the lights on in the valleys between the peaks.

“This is hard work! I don’t care whether you’re a motel, a café, a souvenir shop… any business like that where you have to depend on travelers is hard work,” said Houser.

The ebb and flow of tourists makes a noticeable, tactile impact. “As Route 66 traffic dies, so does the café,” Purschwitz rued philosophically.

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And then there was the challenge when Joann and Purschwitz parted ways, pushing Dennis to become a baker himself in order to retain the café’s pie-fueled bragging rights. Similarly, Hammit-Bradley had to adapt and learn to bake after her mother, the head baker, retired for health reasons.

In spite of having cut her teeth while working for Purschwitz, transitioning to ownership brought new trials.

“Just learning the back part of this business has been a little challenging. It has been a new experience for me. But I’ve always wanted to travel overseas, but never had the time,” Hammit-Bradley said. “But buying the café brought the overseas culture and experience to me. Meeting all of the people traveling the route makes me smile.”

A sparkle in her eye, Houser ponders her own journey at the Midpoint Cafe: “It was the best of times; it was the worst of times. We made it because we were a family. We wanted to be successful.”

Pie are Squared Whether you want to score it 72 or 92 years since Zella Crim took a chance on Adrian and the Mother Road, the Midpoint Cafe is still in good hands. It’s about keeping a certain consistency across the years. “I don’t know that I’ve changed a whole bunch. We just ran with what we had because it was working. We just stuck to the basics,” Hammit-Bradley remarked.

Houser still keeps a close eye on things from her gift shop next door, Sunflower Station, when she is able, although the building is now for sale. She is recovering from a backyard fall in which she tore both shoulders, requiring surgery. Purschwitz is only a phone call away if HammitBradley has any questions. And the travelers keep coming, to photograph a milestone sign, to dine, to browse, and to have a piece of American pie—served large and a la mode of course.

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N

ew Mexico, the state that lays claim to perhaps the most noteworthy collection of parabolic antennae in the world, has bound yet another set of extraordinary satellite dishes to its portfolio. Much humbler than their very large cousins that ascend over the Plains of San Agustin, the Native Basket Array calls the milehigh, Route 66 town of Grants its home. Anchored within the towering immensity of the Continental Divide, the small, but friendly and gregarious community unveiled this wildly original public art installation in 2018. Initially the brainchild of John Badal, CEO of the Navajo based Sacred Wind Communications, the Native Basket Array features 11 upcycled satellite dishes reimagined as supersized traditional Native American baskets.

Badal happened upon a slew of discarded dishes one day while scouting locations to expand Sacred Wind’s broadband network and wondered what might happen to these bulky, space-hogging slabs. “I didn’t want them [to be] found in the landfill,” he lamented. Consequently, Badal’s creatively oriented mind sparked a novel reinterpretation of the dishes: “It struck me that they were the same shape as traditional native tray baskets,” he explained.

“I thought, wouldn’t it be cool tying in the growing artist culture in Grants? Why couldn’t we convert these dishes, [and] have them painted to simulate the native tray baskets that tribes all around the southwest used for winnowing grains and gathering [food]?”

Following this vision, Badal went on to contact Robert Gallegos, director of the Cibola County Arts Council and manager of The Route 66 Vintage Museum in downtown Grants. Badal proposed that they form a committee to acquire these satellite dishes, repurpose them into something artistic, and introduce a culturally meaningful attraction to the community.

“We’re surrounded by native culture [in Grants],” remarked Gallegos. “We’re also in the middle of two national parks: El Morro and El Malpais, which are both significant native places. So, we’re located right in the center; we’re the hub of all these [locations].” Gallegos views the Array as an innovative embodiment of Grants’ diverse environmental and communal aesthetics. “Now you’ve also got the continuation of native culture in a very visual manner. It all comes together, and now we’ve got it right in the center of our town,” he exclaimed.

Badal and Gallegos headed the newly formed committee and deliberated which basket designs to illustrate onto the dishes.

Ultimately, the group decided to integrate both historic and contemporary interpretations of Native craftsmanship. They first issued a state-wide “call to artists,” which urged New Mexican creatives to come up with and submit an original Native Basket design. Of the hundreds of proposals received, the committee chose four winning designs whose creators

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represent the diverse tapestry of New Mexico’s bountiful native communities.

In tandem with the artist submissions, Badal visited the Maxwell Museum of Anthropology in Albuquerque to photograph a handful of baskets from the Museum’s archive of antique native crafts. The committee incorporated six of these Maxwell baskets into the Array, with an additional design portraying a 400-year-old basket discovered by local boy scouts in the 1980’s, which currently resides at the New Mexico Mining Museum in Grants.

While hand-painting the artist creations onto the eightfoot concave dishes was fairly straightforward, translating the antique basket designs onto the satellites proved more difficult. Badal resorted to enlisting the services of a local wrapping company that specialized in advertisements for busses and semi-trucks. Utilizing the same vinyl material that appears on your typical bus ad, the team managed to accurately render the basket designs onto the satellite dishes without any distortion.

Gallegos deems the finished product a “windshield gallery,” referring to the fact that those driving through Grants’ stretch of Route 66 can view the entirety of the Array from behind the wheel.

However, their stunning presence has compelled many to get a closer look and read about the individual histories narrativized on plaques next to each piece.

Road trippers can choose to cruise through Grants by car or immerse themselves in its tranquil, natureladen landscapes on foot. Either way, visitors will bear witness to not only the magnificent baskets, but also the truly serene beauty that radiates from every corner of the mountainous desert town.

According to Gallegos, the widely successful project both maps and “enhances the entire community.” “We’re hoping to infuse a heightened value of the arts here,” added Badal. “If we could help add to eco-tourism and art tourism, we’d be very pleased to do so, but we’re trying to make a point here that technology can reinforce culture,” he continued.

To truly appreciate the artistry of the Native Basket Array, one must understand the humanity, compassion, and mindfulness embedded in its creation. John Badal left his corporate job to establish a company that devotes itself to providing phone and internet services to underserved native communities; Robert Gallegos launched an event series at Grants’ Route 66 Gallery that showcases native arts, exposing road trippers to new cultural experiences along America’s Main Street. Within these inspiring stories, we unwrap ourselves and discover fresh forms of meaning. If you take the time to visit Grants and its Very Elegant Array, a piece of this inspiration will surely find its way into your experience.

Image courtesy of Efren Lopez/Route66Images.

THE ELEGA NT A R R AY of Grants

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Be yond the

O

atman, an eccentric town located along Arizona’s stretch of the Mother Road, is widely known for its infamous, but lovable, posse of burros that occupies not just the town’s main street, but most of the community’s spotlight. However, a less advertised attraction exists for those who wind up in Oatman on Sunday—or for folks who are fans of distinct religious landmarks.

The Little White Church, a delicate one-roomed building, sits on the edge of town at the foot of the mountainside that surrounds Oatman. Parson Tom Woodard ministers at the quiet church regularly, conducting worship services, marriages, and prayer gatherings in tandem with his wife, Linda. Esteemed by locals, the town’s official website proudly advertises this quaint holy establishment as ‘the only church in Oatman.’ Not surprising as the little southwestern destination boasts a mere 128 people.

It’s reasonable to wonder how the Woodwards managed to find their way to this out of the way community that borders the remote arid land of southeastern California, but the short answer is rather straightforward: they wanted to be closer to family.

This preference prompted the Woodards to make the move from fertile Kansas to sunny Arizona in 1987. The couple initially settled in nearby Bullhead City, but encountered a setback when Tom elected not to work for a man who he found disagreeable. As a pious thinker, Linda sees an air of providence around her husband’s choice to stand by his morals. “I think God put us here. Tom wouldn't work for a guy who was a liar, or a cheat,” she said.

Tom’s decision sparked the Woodards’ move to Oatman; an off-beat, but perfect choice for a couple enticed by the town’s signature Old-Western charm.

In Oatman, opportunity was ripe; the Woodards secured steady work for a number of years, but eventually branchedout and opened their own photoshop business. Shortly afterwards, in 2009, the couple unveiled the Little White Church to their adopted town.

During most of the Sunday services offered at 6:30 pm, the congregation consists primarily of Oatmanites, though Linda notes that tourists trekking Route 66 occasionally attend— along with a few Kingman residents who come from some 28 miles away.

Both ordained ministers, Tom and Linda belong to the Home Missions Fellowship. Though Parson Tom is the head conductor of the church’s affairs, his wife serves as a stand-in whenever necessary and fulfills all of her husband’s responsibilities.

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In the same vein as Parson Tom’s Old-Western aesthetic, the church’s signature “shotgun weddings” demonstrate the establishment’s treasure-trove of noteworthy traits. These truly unique ceremonies provide a historical and kitschy experience by combining traditional Christian wedding proceedings with an unconventional twist: a western themed role-playing skit.

These immersive scenes reanimate the unpredictable chaos of the Wild West and insert an unforgettable flare to a couple’s wedding experience.

The wedding starts when a gang of outlaws, played by the Ghost Rider Gunfighters of Oatman, hunts down the groom and drags him to the altar where his bride awaits. The ceremony commences with Parson Tom officiating, but is then interrupted by a bitter cowboy who attempts to steal the bride for himself.

The gang chases the cowboy out of town in a ruckus display, and after the altercation, the wedding concludes with the couple exchanging vows. It is certainly a quirky, colorful affair, but for those choosing to tie the knot in Oatman, it makes perfect sense.

Utah couple Scott and Cathy Armstrong are one of the numerous couples that have made the journey to the historic town in the hope of making their own memories via the Little White Church’s notorious shotgun weddings. “It was like stepping back 200 years into the Old West. You know, for a normal wedding, the groom is up there with the preacher and the bride comes walking in with her escort to give her away. Then you get married and go on about your business. Well here, they create somewhat of a backstory. And the whole town was involved in the process,” remarked Scott Armstrong.

“We actually had a large group of people go down with us.

Everyone just raved about how amazing the experience was, and how perfect it was for who we are,” he exclaimed. “For all of them to get dressed up and be in that moment—you know, they felt more a part of the wedding that way than they would if we had just gotten married with the traditional groomsmen and bridesmaids.”

Whether enjoying a worship service or acting-out a genuine shotgun wedding, the Woodards find themselves grateful for the special opportunity they have in managing the Little White Church and for their life in Oatman. They hope to spread this exceptional joy to all traveling the Mother Road. “The church is open to the public,” emphasized Linda. “We are non-denominational and everyone is welcome… and it is the Word, the whole Word, and nothing but the Word of the Lord Jesus Christ.”

So next time you find yourself in Oatman, look beyond the burros and pay the Little White Church a visit.

Image courtesy of Efren Lopez/Route66Images.

OAT M A N BU R ROS

ARIZONA See it all from the Heart of Historic Route 66

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OFF THE ROUTE

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SAN

DIEGO

America’s Finest City

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O

kay, so you just finished the Route 66 journey of a lifetime, and you don’t want it to end; you’ve stopped for a moment and absorbed the magic of the Santa Monica pier and taken some selfies in front of the End of the Road sign, but are keen to discover more of the California experience. We get it!

Over the last few years, many of you have asked ROUTE for ideas on what to see and do when the journey is over. A lot of you have asked for some information on San Diego. In this issue, we decided to answer your requests and showcase our top picks for where to stay and dine in the seaside town located but a short trip away from where the Mother Road ends.

The city of San Diego is just a mere 134 miles from the terminus of Route 66, and all it takes to get there is a breathtaking ride along the bluffs overlooking the Pacific. The historic Pacific Coast Highway, well known as one of the most scenic drives in the world, trails the Pacific coastline from Los Angeles all the way to California’s birthplace, San Diego, where Europeans first set foot ashore in the Western United States. Along with the business that the Santa Fe Railway, Panama Canal, and U.S. Navy brought to its front door,

San Diego’s natural, deep-water harbor was the perfect catalyst for growth. Moreover, the city’s ideal climate resulted in an influx of tourism that hasn’t stopped since.

San Diego’s more than 70 miles of gorgeous beach includes such renowned names as Mission Beach, Pacific Beach, and La Jolla, which have hosted millions of sun, sand, and surf aficionados for decades. If all of this seaside fanfare isn’t enough, San Diego is also steeped in history and culture.

A visit to Old Town offers a way to trace the city’s Spanish and Mexican history all the way back to 1769. Balboa Park, a 1,200-acre urban cultural park and National Historic Landmark, is home to more than 16 museums, performing arts venues, and lovely gardens. Downtown San Diego’s Gaslamp Quarter, a 16½ block neighborhood on the National Register of Historic Places, is an entertainment hub like no other. With over 100 restaurants, bars, and nightclubs, this American treasure is a delight for bright eyed tourists and can be easily experienced on foot. Kid-centric attractions like SeaWorld San Diego, LEGOLAND, and the San Diego Zoo Safari Park are family favorites that guarantee unforgettable memories.

Whether it is at the beginning or end of your Route 66 trip, choosing the right place to base yourself in San Diego will prime you for an amazing stay in what has been nicknamed, “America’s Finest City.” While this paradisiac town contains an ample amount of incredible accommodations and dining options, we share a few of our favorites here with a list that will ensure the experience of a lifetime.

Where to Rest Your Head

In a city as cool as San Diego, there are plenty of great options for where to stay, but here are some of our top choices for location, service and an all-around memorable experience.

Bahia Resort Hotel Tucked behind waving palm trees and surrounded by the pure serenity of azure waters sits the picturesque Bahia Resort Hotel.

Built on a 14-acre peninsula that juts out into Mission Bay, the Bahia was the vision of one family and has since welcomed thousands of visitors for more than 60 years. In 1944, San Diego’s Chamber of Commerce wanted to develop Mission Bay—which, at the time, consisted of undeveloped tidal salt marsh and mud flats—into a tourism and recreational center by issuing a call for proposals. William and Anne Evans responded with a plan for a hotel that ended up winning them the first long-term lease on Mission Bay. Since the Bahia Resort Hotel opened its doors with 52 units in 1953, the family and its resort have never looked back.

That forward thinking vision has resulted in a 313-room hotel - plus two sister properties under the Evans Hotel brand - and plenty of ways to stay. From spacious bay view suites with panoramic views, to garden side guest rooms and suites, the Bahia’s wide-ranging accommodations each exude a different kind of cool. This Mediterranean-themed hotel sits along a glorious stretch of private beach with tropical gardens filled with exotic palms and colorful flowers. Wake up to stunning sunrise views by the bay, watch graceful sailboats from the comfort of your private patio, or cozy up in the beach cabanas where you can dig your toes in the warm sand and while away your day. No pressure.

But for those looking to get out and explore, a cruise on the Bahia Belle, a turn-of-the-century, Mississippistyle sternwheeler boat, provides complimentary cocktail cruises into the San Diego sunset, making it a must-do while staying with Bahia Resort Hotel. In addition to its close proximity to SeaWorld and the San Diego Zoo, the hotel is within walking distance to Belmont Park, San Diego’s beachfront theme park, as well as the beach and boardwalk. Needless to say, this family-run and owned hotel offers an affordable, unpretentious, friendly, and truly memorable experience.

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Andaz San Diego From the moment you encounter the hospitable valets, to your check in at the front desk located within the bright, airy lobby bolstered by leather-corseted columns, to the first glimpses you catch of the contemporary decor and artwork adorning the walls, you can feel that you’re in for a one-of-a-kind experience. The Andaz San Diego, part of the luxury boutique hotel brand by Hyatt, lies in the heart of San Diego’s historic district, the Gaslamp Quarter.

The building dates back to 1913 when it was constructed for the World’s Fair in celebration of the Panama Canal’s completion. Since then, the hotel has operated as the Maryland Hotel and the Ivy Hotel before being bought and rebranded as the Andaz.

Rooms are minimalistic but sleek with ultramodern furnishings and pops of color radiating from the featured wall art. These pieces are unique to each room and curated to highlight local artists, giving a ‘personal style’ to every space. The Andaz holds a vast selection of accommodation ranging from queen to extra-large king, as well as a number of prized lifestyle suites that include the Andaz Sweet Suite, which boasts a dining area complete with a table that seats eight, the Andaz Cabana Suite, featuring a spiral staircase that takes you up to your very own private cabana by the rooftop pool, and the Andaz Star, which comes with king size bunk beds—yes king size. You may be faulted into thinking that it doesn’t get any better than this…but it does. Complimentary snacks and non-alcoholic beverages from the mini bar, an Andaz brand standard, are a delightful and welcomed touch.

The Rooftop by STK, the largest premier rooftop pool, bar, and dining in the Gaslamp Quarter, offers a casual setting with a pool, fire pit, and loungers for the ultimate relaxation—not to mention sparkling views of downtown. The Andaz is within easy walking distance to numerous dining and entertainment options, including the Petco Park baseball stadium, the Convention Center, and Seaport Village, making this refined hotel the ideal home base to explore San Diego. Did we mention yet that the Andaz is pet friendly? The hotel also accommodates up to two dogs for free. If you want to be right where the action is while also having easy access to the beach and the entirety of San Diego’s historic offerings, then Andaz is the perfect place to rest your head.

Pacific Terrace Hotel For those who truly prioritize a beach experience, look no further than the Pacific Terrace Hotel. Perched on an oceanfront bluff overlooking the vast blue ocean, this breathtaking hotel is just the place to kick back, soak up some sun, and take a refreshing dip in the ocean.

The 73 guest rooms and suites of this Caribbean-style hotel feature ornate wooden beds that are hand-crafted and accompany upscale linens, a balcony or patio, and, in most cases, either a full or partial ocean view. The heated outdoor pool and hot tub border the ocean and are flanked by palm trees, setting a tranquil atmosphere that provides a great spot for guests to lounge poolside and listen to the soothing sounds of crashing waves. The nearby stairs supply guests with easy access to Pacific Beach, one of the most popular beaches in San Diego.

Throughout your visit, you’ll find thoughtful touches: poolside happy hour sips, snacks and bites, Tommy Bahama toiletries, bikes, beach chairs, umbrellas, sand toys, boogie boards, and a guest laundry—all details that paint a comfortable and stress-free stay by the seaside.

The resort fee also includes a complimentary glass of wine and hot buffet breakfast that guests can enjoy indoors or by the pool. Ride or stroll along the boardwalk, listen to the surf tumble, bask in the fresh ocean breeze and breathtaking sunsets…whatever you choose to do, a stay at Pacific Terrace makes for a unique, coastal escape. Although there is not a restaurant on site, the hotel is located within easy walking distance to many restaurants and dining options.

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Where to be Wined and Dined

Steak, seafood, pasta… the seaside haven has more to please the palette than other cities double its size. We’ve explored the town and discovered some truly magical culinary delights that deserve to be on your radar.

JRDN Restaurant at Tower23 With a prime location right by the boardwalk, this restaurant has a truly spectacular view of the Pacific Ocean.

Here’s the inside story behind the name: JRDN, (pronounced “Jordan”), is derived from the owner, Brett Miller’s, father and son while the 23 is inspired by the lifeguard Tower 23 on the beach in front of the hotel. Fresh from a 2018 renovation that saw refreshed decor and a reimagined menu, JRDN’s relaxed seaside setting is a perfect complement to their delicious menu, a selection of food that utilizes seasonal and local California ingredients infused with both Japanese and Baja flavors. Featuring dining options from the farm, land and water, you are spoilt for choice here. If selecting from the glassenclosed sushi station, try the innovative sushi roll creations, or, if that’s not your style, build-your-own signature poke bowl. The Entree must-tries include the Mediterranean Sea Bass and the Ora King Salmon.

The best seats in the house are in the glass-walled outdoor area where you can take in the scenery, enjoy a delicious meal, and people watch as the sun and sea enthusiasts stroll up and down the boardwalk. As the sun sets, witness the reflected colors on the restaurant’s 70-foot long ‘wave wall,’ which creates a warm ambiance that settles over the restaurant. This venue really does offer a serene, picturesque experience and presents a wonderful way to experience San Diego life.

Puesto At The Headquarters In quaint Seaport Village, nestled within the building used for the original San Diego Police Headquarters, Puesto meaning “market stall” - takes the love of tacos up a notch. Started by first generation Mexican-American brothers, Eric and Alan Adler, Puesto pays homage to Mexican street food with a modern, hip twist. Start with the house made guacamole and have it classic or infused with pomegranate, mango, chile de arbol, and candied walnuts. Then consider trying a Chicken al Pastor with a hibiscus and chipotle sauce or Verduras, a vegetarian option with jalapeño and zucchini blossom on a handmade blue corn tortilla.

Puesto’s variety of mix and match taco combinations make for a great party platter to share tapas-style. They whip up some pretty mean cocktails too. Based around an open kitchen, the interior utilizes glass and steel to create a minimalist ambiance with splashes of color coming from floating potted plants and a large, graffiti-style mural by artist Chor Boogie. Choose between indoor seating on two levels or out on the patio—the best seats in the house. Puesto at The Headquarters, created in 2014, is a favorite due to its trendy, energetic, and cacophonous atmosphere—not to mention its amazing food.

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Water Bar Relatively new to San Diego’s seafood scene, Water Bar opened its doors in 2017, turning the former Joe’s Crab Shack into an elegant, blue-toned, and sea-themed establishment.

The restaurant’s décor features a largerthan-life octopus image on one of the exposed brick walls and floor-to-ceiling windows that look out onto the Pacific Beach boardwalk and onward toward the big blue sea. Dishes are inspired by the East and West Coast, along with Baja, to create a unique menu of mouthwatering fare. The mood at Water Bar is very relaxed and not noisy or boisterous. It is a perfect blend of laidback luxury and terrific pricing.

Their community-table generates a more socially oriented dining experience, so feel free to share those Route 66 stories amongst your dining partners. The menu at Water Bar changes a little every few months, but the popular items stay the same. Stop in for lunch and try the Island Tuna Poke or a Spicy Shrimp Torta. Share some Surf & Turf Fries while you take in the calming sight of the ocean through the window. The Seafood Tostadas (shareable), the West Coast Lobster Roll, and the Shellfish Piperade all pack delicious flavor in each bite. The fancy craft cocktails range from the light & refreshing to the sweet & savory as well as a great collection of frozen cocktails and “fish bowls” that are shareable.

Enjoy the serenity that comes with sitting waterside, and, if you’re lucky, you might catch glimpses of dolphins as they dance across the ocean top. It is truly a sight to see.

Lou & Mickey’s The plush interior of leather and wood, red comfy booths, detailed Italian tiles, low lighting, custom chandeliers, and carefully placed standing hooks for your hat or coat, lend to the opulent, 1940s feel of this standout steak and seafood establishment.

Opened by cousins Jeff and Sam King to honor their respective fathers Lou and Mickey King, this restaurant locates itself right at the Gaslamp District’s southern entrance. It has become one of the places to be in downtown San Diego. Boasting one of the town’s most sought after patios, Lou & Mickey’s al fresco dining area is spacious and shaded by six beautiful date palms. This is a spot to feel San Diego’s electric vibe at its best—especially as the sun sets under the light of the glowing Gaslamp Quarter sign.

Here, the steaks are dry aged for at least 30 days in a temperature-controlled room with Himalayan sea salts. The steaks are then marinated, saturated in juices, and cooked in seasoned butter for a rich, buttery, and incomparable taste. One of their best cuts is the 42-ounce Prime Tomahawk Ribeye Chop, a great option for sharing with friends and family. The 14-ounce bone-in fillet is another household favorite (also best shared). Noteworthy sides run the gamut from garlic mashed potatoes to fire roasted broccolini and jumbo asparagus. With a seafood history dating back to 1945, when Lou and Mickey King founded the King’s Seafood Company, rest assured that their ocean offerings will complement the steaks perfectly. A lobster tank that features live lobsters from one-and-a-half to three pounds pays homage to the restaurant’s oceanic roots.

Desserts are baked daily in the restaurant’s bakeshop, and the assortment is mouthwatering, so leave some space. At Lou & Mickey’s, there’s as much pride to be had in the great service, atmosphere, and heaping servings as there is in the food.

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Oceana Coastal Kitchen Treat yourself to a premier beachfront dining experience that offers stunning panoramic views.

Located in the Catamaran Resort Hotel, Oceania Coastal Kitchen is fresh off a $2.1 million renovation, which includes significant highlights like a 25-foot-long, quartz-topped cold bar that serves a selection of oysters, fresh sushi, and seafood platters, an 800-gallon aquarium that is home to a translucent jellyfish, and multiple dining areas, featuring a breezy waterfront patio with unadulterated views of Mission Bay. The menu, described as “chefdriven California cuisine”, offers classic dishes from seasonal and local produce. The Puget Sound Clams and Mussels (the sauce is so good) or the Dungeness Crab Cake will surely hit the spot for a flavorful and comforting start. For entrees, consider trying the California White Seabass or the Seared Scallops, which emphasize a mild, clean, and sweet flavor.

Regardless of what you order, this restaurant makes our list due to its relaxed, cozy atmosphere that allows visitors to dine right at the beach while enjoying amazing food and service. Oceania offers a truly coastal holiday feel and is a place where you can pass the twilight hours watching the sun set over the sea with a glass of wine in hand.

Greystone Prime Steaks and Seafood With a phenomenal reputation - voted among the Top 5 Steakhouses in both San Diego and California - this restaurant, owned and operated by the Loverso family, has been around for over 20 years. The historic space that Greystone Steakhouse occupies is one that history buffs are sure to enjoy. Built in 1874 by Ralph Granger, the Florentine-Italianate style building has housed a wide array of tenants from the Public Library to the City of San Diego Government offices; at one time in 1891, it was a Police Department, and at another, it was even the office of San Diego’s first mayor, Edwin Capp. Greystone Steakhouse opened its doors in 1999 and has maintained the old-world charm with décor that is reminiscent of the structure’s vibrant past.

Sitting in the heart of the Gaslamp Quarter, Greystone serves USDA Prime steaks, aged in-house on a Himalayan salt block for a minimum of 21 days, as well as a variety of exotic game such as elk chop, wild boar, and an international selection of hand-cut Wagyu beef, recognized as the best quality beef in the world. Not a red meat lover? Vegetarian and vegan menus plus seafood, gluten-free, and dairy-free options are available. The restaurant’s handcrafted pasta, along with its slowly braised short rib and lamb shank, are made daily, imbedding worldclass quality in each and every bite.

Throw in their award-winning wine list, and you have yourself a bonafide culinary paradise.

Dine al fresco on the white linens of their outside patio where you can bask in the historic district’s distinctive energy. Or, conversely, enjoy the indoor dining area split into three levels, which can accommodate intimate, romantic dinners, group dining experiences, and everything else in-between.

From its ambiance and décor to its well-crafted cocktails, there is much here to admire and savor.

Dining at Greystone is a veritable feast for the senses.

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Parc Bistro-Brasserie (Parc BB) Owned by Garo Minassian, a native of Montreal who has a history operating several restaurants in San Diego, Parc BB is nestled in the quaint neighborhood of Bankers Hill, directly across from St. Paul’s Cathedral. This refined bistro illustrates an elegant French dining experience from start to finish. Fine dining in a relaxed ambiance, the restaurant’s default mode, expresses itself in every aspect of the restaurant, from the delicate globe lights hovering above the wooden bar, white linen tablecloths, and walls dressed in vintage Parisian scenes to the polished, warm servers dressed in crisp white shirts and the soft French tunes caressing the airwaves.

Enjoy their range of French classics with starters ranging from onion soup, foie gras, escargot or a chilled seafood tower that comes with oysters, shrimp, mussels and Parc ceviche. Signature entrees include duck confit, coq au vin, and steak frites. The food is rich, the service on point, and the ambiance perfect. Even before you get to the dessert - the chocolate lava cake is decadent - you’ll be planning your return. Whether you choose to sit indoors or out on the covered sidewalk patio, this little restaurant is a wonderful find in the seaside town.

Pacific Beach Fish Shop (PB Fish Shop) San Diego is all about the fish taco, and there is no shortage of great places to enjoy them, but the venue that has won the people’s prize of “Best Taco” takes the top spot for us.

Sporting nautical décor, which includes a life-sized marlin trophy replica, this fast-casual restaurant first opened in 2010 and has the build-it cuisine model down to an art form. Pick one of the household fish or the seasonal catch of the day, then choose from a handful of their specialty marinades, and then, finally, decide how you want to eat it: in a taco, sandwich, salad or platter.

Their popular TKO grilled mahi mahi taco, served with a refreshing, homemade tropical salsa and melted cheese, packs a mouthwatering burst of flavor. PB Fish Shop’s mellow vibe, along with their outdoor seating, makes for an ideal location to kick back and soak up some California sun.

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PARTING SHOT

Richard RATAY What is the most memorable place you’ve visited on Route 66?

Ted Drewes Frozen Custard Stand…mmm, concretes! Most famous or noteworthy person you have ever met? Kevin Costner in 1990. Long story. What characteristic do you respect the most in others? Ability to read a road map. Dislike in others?

Talking during movies. What characteristic do you dislike in yourself? Chronically lying during interviews. Talent that you WISH you had? Throw a 100mph fastball. Best part about getting older? Clarity of what really matters. What is your greatest extravagance? Daily lattés. What is the weirdest roadside attraction you’ve ever seen? Philadelphia’s Mütter Museum of Medical Curiosities. Best state to see giant objects? Minnesota owns big and weird. (Jolly Green Giant, Largest Ball of Twine, Largest Loon, Largest Prairie Chicken, Largest Viking, it goes on.) What do you love about road travel so much that you wrote a book on the subject? The stories that road trips provide. What trait do you have that is most like your father (from a road travel perspective)? Ability to—ahem!—bypass rest stops. What do you consider your greatest achievement? Writing a book, hands down. Most important vehicle developed of the 70s? Ford Country Squire station wagon. Worst vehicle/ travel idea of the 70s? Rear-facing seats in station wagons. Most memorable hotel/motel that you have stayed at? Holiday Inn Holidome with volcano water slide and tiki bar.

Not sure where it was, but it was awesome. Most memorable person on a road trip? Paul Harvey. We’d listen to him in the car every day. Ideal number of miles to drive per day when on a road trip? Me: 600. My dad: 6 kagillion. Last book you’ve read? Bill Bryson, “The Body: A Guide for 80 ROUTE Magazine

Occupants” What breaks your heart? The end of “Old Yeller”.

Every. Time. Two-lane or four-lane travel? Four then two.

What is still on your bucket list to visit? Roswell, New Mexico.

What movie title best describes your life? Stir Crazy. Ghost town or big city person? Radiator Springs, baby. What does a perfect day look like to you? Coffee, write, coffee, run, write, coach baseball. What is your favorite place on Route 66? The road itself, between stops. Strangest stop on an American highway?

Minuteman Missile silos along I-90 in South Dakota. I mean … wow. Which historical figure - alive or dead - would you most like to meet? Ben Franklin intrigues me. If you won the lottery, what is the first item you would buy? Experiences. Always take experiences over “stuff”. What food item can you not live without? Bananas. I’m bananas for bananas. Bizarre talent that you have that most people don’t know about? I may be the best parallel parker in the history of the world. What surprises you most about people? How short their memories are.

What makes you laugh? Absurd humor.

Monty Python, “Meet the Parents”.

Most unknown (but should be) stop on the road? Not exactly unknown, but the City Museum in St. Louis is indescribably amazing. Must-have songs on a road trip playlist? Anything by the Bee Gee’s, “Let’s Go” by The Cars, “Story of My Life” by Social Distortion, “Folsom Prison Blues”

by Johnny Cash, “The Man” by The Killers (for my boys) — we listen to a lot of 70’s Yacht Rock on our trips. What do you think is the most important life lesson for someone to learn? Life’s about the journey, not the destination. What is one thing you have always wanted to try, but have been too afraid to? Hmm, I don’t fear much. Bigfoot hunting? Streaking? What do you want to be remembered for? Dropping a bit of knowledge along with a few laughs.

Illustration: Jenny Mallon.

Author of the fantastic book Don’t Make Me Pull Over! and road travel guru Richard Ratay has traveled the country’s two-lane highways for decades, exploring the lesser visited and often quirkier sides of America. In this issue’s Parting Shot, Ratay shares a little about himself and offers readers some clues to make our own road trips a little more interesting..

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.Ž

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