Out in the Desert

OUT IN THE DESERT

By Nick Gerlich Opening photograph by Billy Brewer

The Mojave Desert is one of the most unforgiving places in the US. One of four primary desert ecosystems, it is the smallest, and the driest. Summer temperatures routinely reach 115 degrees, and the gap between rainfalls is sometimes measured in years.

But the Atlantic and Pacific Railroad needed to cross this enormous barren patch of earth in the 1880s, as it tried to make its final connection from Needles to the coast.

As inhospitable as the climate was, track was laid rapidly, crossing the basin and range topography as if it were all flat.

It was the beginning of modern transport through an area that the indigenous Mojave, and later miners on horse-drawn wagons, had crossed with great consternation.

Trees were in scarce supply. Water ran through dozens of rivulets only when the seasonal monsoon was productive. But when those rains did come, the air became scented heavily with the fragrance of the native creosote. And a vestigial volcano reminded everyone that this could easily pass for Mars.

It was into this tableau that Roy Crowl built what would one day become one of the most iconic roadside attractions and businesses along all of Route 66: its historic gas station,

Googie-inspired cafe, cabins, motel rooms, and midcentury neon sign all a magnet. But Crowl just saw it as a way to earn a living.

Alphabet Soup

When the railroad was crossing the Mojave in 1883, water stops were placed strategically to be able to service the steam locomotives. Some of these stops remain forever “jerkwater” stops, while others blossomed into small settlements and towns. One of these was Amboy, located midway between Needles and Barstow.

Although it existed as a mining camp since 1858, it was christened Amboy when a locating engineer for the railroad established a naming scheme for all of the watering stops. Starting in the middle and working east, Amboy was the first in a sequential alphabetic list that included Bristol, Cadiz, Danby, Essex, Fenner, Goffs, and others en route to Needles on the Arizona border.

West of Amboy, though, the stops were named haphazardly, and sometimes in reference to faraway places, like Bagdad and Siberia. Amboy Crater, named because of the closest town, serves as a daily reminder of the area’s volcanic past.

In 1913, the National Old Trails Road carved a path through the desert. In most cases, it mirrored the route taken by the railroad, which necessarily was the path of least resistance up and over desert mountain ranges. Travel was treacherous at best for travelers, with services few and far between.

Two of those travelers were Roy and Velma Crowl. Roy, who was born in Arizona in 1902, was driving his wife to the West Coast in 1924 when their car broke down. It was a very inopportune place to be stranded, but for Roy and Velma, it proved to be fortuitous. But more on that in a bit.

The road changed a few times through the early years as engineering skills improved, but by 1926, when federally numbered highways were created, it became Route 66. The road was paved in 1931.

Meanwhile, Amboy grew by fits and spurts, but the population never really grew to very large numbers. “I don’t believe there were 200 people in Amboy,” said Joe De Kehoe, author of The Silence And The Sun. “At the very top, I would say 50, and that would have been early on.”

Regardless, Amboy became an oasis in the desert of sorts, with a post office, gas stations, cafes, and even a school. Most of that is gone today, but the centerpiece of what remains is a place aptly called Roy’s.

Open for Business

When the Crowls broke down in 1924, it was a deal-breaker not only for their trip, but the rest of their working lives. They couldn’t afford to pay for his car repairs, so Roy went to work at California Rock Salt in nearby Saltus. However, by 1938, upon seeing the increasing number of cars traveling what had become Route 66 shortly after their arrival, Roy sensed opportunity and in true American fashion, took a bold step and quit his job. He took over a garage on the south side of 66 from local Ben Benjamin; it was known simply as Roy’s Garage.

Traffic had increased so much by then that Amboy could support multiple businesses. Luther Friend ran a Chevron station also on the south side of 66, and Bill Lee opened a Texaco gas station, cafe, and motel across the highway. The following years proved prosperous for the small desert town.

It was during the 1940s that Herman Bazzell “Buster” Burris arrived on the scene. Buster, who was born in Bandera, Texas, in 1909, had met Roy and Velma’s daughter, Betty, while both worked at San Bernardino Air Depot. The couple married and relocated to Amboy, where Buster went to work for Roy.

In the late 1940s, Roy and his new son-in-law bought four acres on the north side of 66. The two set to work to build a service station and garage out of discarded railroad ties, confident that they were making a sound investment. The new station became a Shell Oil franchise, and remains there today, in between where Lee’s Texaco once stood, and the Amboy School to the east. As for Roy’s Garage across the street, no record survives of its next tenant, but by the 1950s, it had been leveled and the land used as a parking lot for large trucks.

While Roy is credited with having the entrepreneurial spirit, it was Buster who brought the muscle and wherewithal

Albert and Kyle Okura inside the lobby and shop.

to keep Amboy and the family business on the map. Auto parts, a café, cabins, and a motel in the back were of his doing. He even ran electricity all the way from Barstow.

Roy and Velma decided to retire early, in 1959, to Cherry Valley, California. It was the same year that they had opened a new guest office with a flying roof that mirrored the fascination with Googie architecture of the day. Concurrent with this was the erection of a 50-foot-tall neon sign with square and rectangular elements overlapping a gigantic red chevron shape; it was lit on February 1st that year.

Buster and Betty then ran the business alone, but by 1965, only six years later, they too decided that they were ready to retire permanently. They sold the business to Art and Lou Parker from Albuquerque, but Buster and Betty lingered to help run it.

Change was in the air, though, with word of the new interstate highway being built to the north. Work began in 1971, with sections being built east from Barstow and west from Needles, eventually meeting in the middle. Later in 1972, the freeway opened, and the effects were profound.

Things were so bad that the Parkers simply left town, and Buster and Betty had to take the helm again. Once the freeway opened, the family running the Texaco shuttered and sold; it was demolished shortly thereafter. The station across the street burned down and was not rebuilt. With the opening of the interstate, Amboy’s modest future suddenly turned bleak.

“Buster even talked to the highway department about moving Roy’s to the interchange of Kelbaker Road and I-40. The only reason they didn’t do it was because they couldn’t find any water,” De Kehoe explained.

And so, Roy’s limped on for more than two decades, but at least they remained open. One by one, the Crowl family passed away, leaving Buster the only survivor from the early years. Roy died in 1977; daughter Betty died from a head injury in 1979. Meanwhile, Velma lingered until 1993. In 1982, Buster married Bessie Emma de Veer, and they carried on the business until 1995, when they leased the business to New York photographer, Timothy White. Early in 2000, White purchased it on contract from Buster and Bessie; Buster died later that year, and in 2003, Bessie was forced to foreclose upon White, who had fallen behind in his payments to her.

If ever Roy’s was ever in need of a savior, it was then.

A Ray of Hope

Perhaps it was serendipity that caused Los Angeles businessman and third-generation Japanese American Albert Okura to learn of Amboy. In 2003, a friend told him that the town, having just been foreclosed, was advertised on eBay for $1.2 million. It wasn’t until two years later in 2005 that he met with Bessie and her daughter, Bonnie Barnes, though.

Okura, owner of the popular Juan Pollo fast food chain in San Bernardino, is as much preservationist as he is entrepreneur, and Bessie took a quick liking to him. She came down in price, hoping that he would take it for $770,000. “She did this because of my involvement with the Original McDonald’s Museum, which I opened after purchasing the site of the very first McDonald’s in San Bernardino. The museum honors all the rich history of McDonald’s since its founding. She had me in her favor since I pledged to do the same with Amboy: restore and commemorate its rich history and significance to Route 66 in California,” Okura explained.

By that point, Bessie was firm only in her resolve to sell, and was willing to negotiate. “They wanted a quick deal. They told me to make an offer. I wanted to keep the town pure, keep it historical,” said Okura. He countered with $425,000 cash; Bessie accepted, and Okura wound up getting Roy’s and the entire 950-acre town of Amboy in May 2005, even though there were higher bidders. To seal the deal, he promised Bessie that he would restore Roy’s and maintain its original Route 66 appearance.

“When I bought Amboy in 2005, Route 66 was making its revival in popularity as us Baby Boomers started retiring and traveling the Route. My previous knowledge of Route 66 was limited, even though my restaurant in San Bernardino resided along the Route. Before seeing Amboy for sale on eBay, I never knew about Amboy. Everywhere now there are Route 66 guidebooks, and most have a picture of the Roy’s sign. This iconic sign symbolizes the whole Route 66 movement, and I can’t believe I own it!” shared Okura.

Now as the new owner, Okura, reopened Roy’s in 2008. The four original 1970s-era gas pumps were turned on 24/7, and he started renovating the station and store. But problems became apparent from the onset; perhaps the most significant were the septic system and limited water supply. The infrastructure that Buster built had long fallen into disrepair, complicated by the fact that he had demolished many of the buildings in town.

“It was a disaster from the get-go to get everything up and running operational. Firstly, there was no power, building plans, or permits of any sort to get the gas station approved to open. It took two years to get power and all necessary permits. We were pretty much working in the dark to figure out exactly what was needed to operate. Above all, the hardest part during all of this was being out in the middle of nowhere. Cell service was almost non-existent.”

As for the well behind the station, it frustratingly only produced salty water. For years, Amboy, like Essex 33 miles east, had relied on the generosity of the railroad to deliver tankers full of water. “For a long time, all the water for Amboy was brought by tank cars, and the water [was] stored in a cistern by the tracks,” said De Kehoe. “About 15 years ago, the railroad said that they weren’t going to do this anymore, and Roy’s was just on salt water. Fresh water had to be brought in.”

And if these were not obstacles enough, it proved even more difficult to get anyone to work out in such a remote area. “Most of our employees had to either move out there or temporarily stay in campers and trailers until we were able to get power to the main lobby building. This is where our past managers ended up residing as it has a kitchen, bathroom, living and dining room, and master bedroom. All of this was completely new to us since we had never operated a gas station or convenience store. The desert environment was drastically different than where we were from in the Inland Empire,” said Okura.

Even so, the small team pushed ahead, working their hardest to get the iconic stop back up on its feet. But Okura of course had his chicken empire to run, which took up his time and attention.

“I visited as frequently as I could, but my main priorities rested within the operation of the Juan Pollo franchise which I founded. For my managers that stayed out there, the conditions were rough. With no electricity, the ghost town is pitch black. For anyone new to the area, the town can be quite frightening at night. The weather conditions made it even harder, with no working appliances, HVAC systems, or water systems. In late summer, the temperatures remain triple digits 24/7 and can even peak at 125 degrees. With all the old buildings, cracks, and holes, we frequently dealt with critters like mice, scorpions, roaches, and even swarms of locusts. There was also the fear of threats from visitors and roaming travelers curious to explore the town. While most were generally [benign], interested in exploring ghost towns, the managers were always wary of people with bad intentions (especially being in the middle of nowhere).”

The challenges that Okura faced are little different from what Roy, and later Buster, had to overcome decades prior. Roy had a side hustle selling meat and produce from his truck throughout the nearby desert towns. He would drive to market in San Bernardino, then distribute to people throughout the lower Mojave. The profits helped fund a modest lifestyle.

Buster, especially after the freeway opened, had his work cut out for him. Although he was the lone survivor of the three stations in town, it was not an accolade. The writing was on the wall, and it did not read well.

As for Albert Okura, Roy’s and the town of Amboy proved to be a true fixer-upper, even if he scooped them up at a bargain. The upside potential is legitimate, but the downside costs have been significant. “I want to keep it basic and simple, like it once was,” Okura said. He plans to reopen the café and remodel the six bungalow cottages in front and the 26-unit motel in back, all with modern furnishings. He hopes to capitalize on the daily half-dozen tour buses filled with international tourists and steady trickle of cars and motorcycles that all stop to poke their heads in.

“Over 15 years later, we still have so much to do in Amboy. These past two years have witnessed the most progress internally and operationally, despite the pandemic. I now understand the significance of Roy’s Motel & Cafe and the town of Amboy for Route 66. Not only does it serve as one of California’s main Route 66 destinations, but its long history, since being established in the late 1800s, is a true landmark of American history. As we grow in the age of technological advancements and societies, places like Amboy will become even more significant. It is evident even today with all of the movies, commercials, music videos, and photoshoots that happen all year round. Roy’s 60-foot sign is truly a beacon of Mid-Century Americana.”

Pass It On

Albert and Kyle out front near the gas pumps.

it. Just like Roy and Velma handed off to Buster and Betty, Okura, now 71, has been transitioning out of the picture. In his stead, Roy’s is being managed by his son Kyle, 28. Kyle has much of the same energy as his father, just like Buster did in the wake of his father-in-law. That is very good news for the longevity of Roy’s, which has overcome adversity many times in its history.

“I was twelve years old when my father purchased the town in 2005. I remember him coming into the room and telling me that he bought a town. When I asked why, he replied, ‘Who else do you know that owns a town?’ I remember almost everyone in my life saying that it was a bad idea. I wasn’t old enough to see the significance of owning Amboy. My dad saw an opportunity and he seized it immediately. The first time that he took me to Amboy, I remember how far the trip was. Being so young, the two and a half hours were kind of dreadful and boring. I clearly remember driving the National Trails Highway with two major dips that felt like a roller coaster. When I got to Amboy, I didn’t think much of it. There wasn’t much to do, and I couldn’t appreciate its significance,” said Kyle. “Now that I’ve been managing the town since 2019, I have seen how significant Roy’s is in so many people’s lives. I’ve been fortunate to meet people who used to live in Amboy, whose parents were married in the church, people who knew the original owners, and remember visiting every summer and stopping to eat at the café on their family road trips. It’s even more incredible to see how important Route 66 is to international travelers. In the near future, we hope to restore the entire town by reopening the café and motel cottages for lodging. My vision for the future of Roy’s is to honor the original owners’ legacy and have Amboy become the amazing boomtown that it once was.”

Already an expensive new water filtration system has been installed and is operational. “Now we have the water running again with the new system, and a few of the trailers are renovated, so we have a place to stay overnight,” said Kyle. There are plans to make upgrades to the adjacent dirt airport runway and hangar so that they can get FAA approval, and an RV park is also on the wish list.

In 2019, the Okuras took a big step that reminded people of the magic that was once found at Roy’s, out in the lonely California desert: the restoration of the fantastic Roy’s sign. The event attracted about 500 people by car and plane on November 26 that year, and today, the restored sign which illuminates the nighttime skies once again, visible for miles along Route 66 and the road south to Twentynine Palms, is a beacon to tired motorists, as it once was.

During its years in operation, Roy’s represented hope for motorists plunging into the great unknown; an oasis to fill their vehicles and stomachs and perhaps a place to rest their weary head. This was a tangible hope. Just like the hope the Okuras have for reviving this oasis on the Mojave.

ONE WOMAN’S PASSION

ONE WOMAN’S PASSION

The humble gas station is perhaps the single most important development that enabled people to travel far and wide. While the automobile with an internal combustion engine was undeniably a major development, travel was limited to local trips until gas stations began filling the empty spaces between towns.

From the first gas station in St. Louis in 1905, to the late 1920s, when there were more than 121,000 stations across America, supply rapidly met demand on the corner of Hope and Wanderlust. But it was at the start of the 1930s that one of Illinois’ most grandiose of service stations was built — Sprague’s Super Service at 305 Pine Street in Normal, Illinois.

Located along what is now a residential neighborhood in Normal, a college town that is home to Illinois State University, William W. Sprague set to work in 1931 to construct a two-story Tudor Revival building that would serve as gas station, restaurant, repair bays, owner’s residence, and apartment for the station attendant. His vision for the new property was ambitious.

By the time Sprague built it, two years into the Great Depression, gas station chains were already providing cookie-cutter architectural plans to franchisees. Color scheme and building designs were sufficient visual cues to the approaching motorist of the brand affiliation. Sprague’s approach was to stand out among what was rapidly becoming a crowd. He leveraged his expertise as a building contractor to create a one-of-a-kind station that looked more like a manor house than a mere gas station. As a retailer of Cities Service gas, he could lay claim to one of the most elegant stations not only on 66, but in the entire chain.

Business was good throughout the 1930s, despite the Depression that crippled other parts of the nation. So good, in fact, that Snedaker’s Station just across the street and the nearby Bill’s Cabins — a lodging and gasoline operation — also both thrived. But then, Route 66 was moved to a new four-lane bypass on Bloomington’s east side in 1940. This caused the majority of traffic to be diverted, which led to the station being sold multiple times to a variety of owners who each fought hard to survive on primarily local customers.

Fuel rationing during World War II saw the station shutter completely. It reopened in 1946, leading to a prolonged period of various enterprises occupying the building, including a welding and boiler company, a taxi service, and a rental car franchise. By the 1960s, retailers occupied the building, ranging from a bakery to a bridal shop. All the while, the fuel pumps stood in place without any fuel to deliver. They were removed in 1979. Like so many places along the Mother Road, the grand building sat silent for quite some time. That is until Terri Ryburn came along.

An administrator and part-time faculty member at the university, Ryburn was familiar with the area and the Sprague’s Super Service station. But it wouldn’t be until after her 2005 retirement that she really took notice.

“I had about a year to enjoy it, and then I bought this place. I haven’t had a minute’s peace since,” she laughed. “Only a crazy person would have bought this building in the condition it was in. I lived in [a] neighborhood a couple blocks from the station. At that time, it was a bridal shop. It was looking worse and worse.”

One day in 2006, she drove by the station and noticed a “For Sale” sign. Inspired, she called the realtor for a showing. “We walked inside, and it was in worse condition than the exterior.” Upstairs, in a room that extends over the gas pumps, the sun was shining brightly through the nine windows, and Ryburn acted on a whim. She made a low offer, thinking that the seller would refuse, and the dream would be over. Instead, the seller countered quite reasonably.

Ryburn was forced to play her hand. She decided to buy the vintage service station. “I knew it would take a lot of money and time to restore, neither of which I had, but I just couldn’t let it go.” Now the proud new owner of a decaying building but an important piece of history, Ryburn had one last thing to do: tell her husband, Bill Sanders. It didn’t take long to convince him. “When do we move?” he asked.

“We sold our beautiful home that we had completely remodeled for our retirement, and we moved into this dump,” she joked. “When I bought the building, Bill was quoted in the local paper: ‘She really has her work cut out for her.’ And boy did I! The interior of the building was in bad shape from a leaky roof. $375,000 in grants that I received paid for infrastructure, such as a new roof, heating, ventilation, air conditioning, plumbing, electrical, tuck pointing of brick, etc. $90,000 out of my own pocket went toward the mortgage, insurance, utilities, taxes, etc. There was nothing left on the interior that was original and the gas pumps were gone.” But that did not deter Ryburn. The years that passed were busy ones that were filled with learning and excitement.

Sadly, Bill passed away in 2011, leaving Ryburn with an unfinished building. “After a while I pulled myself up and kept going.” But she was about to get some needed support.

The work on Pine Street caught the eye of Normal leaders, who approached her about buying the old building. They too had begun to appreciate its potential for local tourism. “I negotiated with the town for a while, and I ended up selling it to them in 2016, because I did not have a succession plan.”

Today, Ryburn, 74, lives in the owner’s apartment of the restored structure, and operates a popular tourist shop on the first floor. Her labor of love throughout the last 15 years has resulted in a renaissance-of-one on this quiet thoroughfare.

“I have never been happier,” she continued. She lives onsite to keep an eye on things and uses the second apartment as her office. Freed from financial obligations and with a succession plan in place, she considers it a win for everyone involved, including the broader Route 66 community.

While most of the gas stations along 66 during its formative years were simple unassuming structures, Sprague’s Super Service station is considered to be at the peak of gas station design and will continue to be preserved for years to come.

As for Ryburn, her contract with the Town of Normal will end in 2026, the 100th anniversary of Route 66. Whether she will continue in her present capacity is up in the air, but one thing is not, and that is the future of this historic station.