Graystone Heights

GRAYSTONE HEIGHTS

By Michael Rogers Photographs by David J. Schwartz - Pics On Route 66

Along a section of old Route 66 known to Mother Road aficionados as “The Ghost Stretch,” near what was once Plano, Missouri, a red-and-blue neon sign beckons travelers to “Modern Cabins.” The area, west of Springfield, is home to a number of ruins and sites of long-gone towns from the highway’s heyday, hence the affectionate, if spooky, nickname.

The comfort promised by the “Modern Cabins” sign is a welcome sight for the weary tourists cruising along the old road, but alas, the colorful, inviting sign is merely a reminder of accommodations that once were but disappeared around 1961, when Interstate 44 opened and bypassed Route 66 and the town.

Hopeful Beginnings

Although precious little is known today about the history of the property, we do know that the Graystone Heights Modern Cabins opened around 1935 under the ownership of Margaret White Brewer. She and her husband, Ben Brewer, purchased two and a half acres of land in 1931 to construct a tourist court. Using native Missouri “giraffe stone,” they erected a building that housed a restaurant and gas station, a restroom and shower building, and four cabins containing two rooms each, with two-car garages between them. The garages were a popular feature at a number of motor courts of the era, providing security for open and unlocked vehicles, as well as privacy and weather protection for guests, as you could directly enter and exit the rooms from the garage.

Eventually, a private bathroom would be added to each room, and later, one of the garages was converted to a suite, making a total of nine rooms available for lodging. In 1936, after some battling between the families, Margaret became the sole owner when the Brewers divorced. She then changed her name to Margaret Brewer White, and continued to run the thriving business. After twenty-five years of a steady stream of customers, the diversion of most traffic to the Interstate spelled the end of good times for the cabins. The motel closed and the building sat silent, slowly deteriorating as the years went by.

Change is Inevitable

In 1963, Russell and Betty Schweke purchased the distressed property from the court for their expanding R & S Floral store and warehouse, a business that they enthusiastically started in 1958. Russell discovered a notice in a local newspaper announcing the sale of the property on the courtroom steps. Quick to respond to the potential opportunity, he headed to the auction and purchased the property for five thousand dollars. The Schweke family has run R & S at the location ever since, with their son John taking over the business operation in 2007. John inherited the entrepreneurial spirit from his ancestors. His grandfather bought businesses in the Springfield area during the Depression and sold them at a profit. His father, after a stint in the Marine Corps, came back to Springfield and was made the vicepresident of a soft goods company that his grandfather owned nearly half of. He became a successful soft goods wholesale salesman for the company, then later opened his own retail outlets, and then several dime stores in the region, before he went into the floral business. He believed that he could personally create floral baskets and arrangements for his stores at a better price than he could purchase them pre-made. This idea was so successful that he made the floral business his main focus.

John Schweke was born and raised in nearby Springfield, and as a child, spent one or two days a week at what was then his father’s floral business. Although the property still had the outward appearance of an old-fashioned motor court, the old motel cabins and other buildings were now used as storage and work areas for the creation of the floral arrangements that R & S built its reputation on.

The company was focused on wholesaling flower arrangements for a variety of occasions to local dime stores and other regional shops, and business was good. However, as time went on, larger retailers like Walmart began forcing many of those smaller shops out of business, and the wholesale market for R & S arrangements began to shrink.

“I had an agreement with my father that if I worked for him, and made very little money, that I would own the property when he died,” says John. “After every year, as he was getting older and older, I’d say, ‘Pop, is it time for me to own the property yet?’ and he’d say, ‘No, I’m not going to die yet.’ Well, I had a friend who was a probate lawyer and we went to see him in 2007. My father told him that he wanted me to have the property when he died, and the lawyer told him that he’d seen a lot of strange things happen when people die, so if he wanted me to have it, maybe he should just give it to me then. He said, ‘Okay’ and we drew up the papers, and that was it.” Russell then retired and John took over the reins.

The business then evolved into R & S Memorial Decorations under John’s direction, and now focused on retail sales of memorial and funeral floral arrangements rather than the wholesale general market that was the bulk of his father’s market. In order to further expand his customer coverage, John opened a number of pop-up stores each year in Southwest Missouri, Northwest Arkansas,

John Schweke stands near his restored “Modern Cabins’ sign.

and Southeast Kansas as Memorial Day approached. This practice continues today.

It’s been a good plan, because business has remained strong through the years.

“I equate it to some people going to McDonald’s for hamburgers, and some people going to get upper end hamburgers,” said John. “We sell upper end Memorial Day decorations, and my business really only takes in money for about six weeks out of the year. Some people will drive two or three hours to come to our warehouse to shop. My arrangements don’t look like what they sell at Walmart or Dollar General, my arrangements are more upscale.”

Celebrating the Past

After taking over the business from his father and refocusing on the memorial arrangements, John also began to think a bit more about the importance of preserving the history of the location. During the early days of R & S, the building structures remained in basically sound condition, and no efforts were made to restore them to their former glory, as they served Russell’s purposes for storage and work areas without any additional investment.

However, two events proved to be catalysts for the process of beginning the renovations. The first was when a Canadian news crew came by to do a story about the area and took pictures of his buildings, describing them as being run down and going further downhill.

“It didn’t make me feel great, but they were being honest,” John said. “I looked at the pictures, and it didn’t look very good.” Shortly thereafter, the second incident occurred while watching the Pixar movie Cars. “My grandson was sitting with me, and the story shows that Route 66 had all these wonderful businesses and properties, and now they were all becoming dilapidated. I put my arm around my grandson and said, ‘You know, I have a dilapidated property like that on Route 66, too’, and I just woke up the next day and realized that we could help fix the problem. And we have.”

Tired of watching so many old buildings and businesses decay and disappear along the historic highway, John and his wife Alexa decided to start their effort to revitalize their property and preserve their own little piece of antiquity.

John handed a can of black paint and a brush to one of the workers at R & S and told him to start painting the grout lines between the white limestone rocks that make up the outsides of the buildings in order to bring

An evening view reveals the cabins’ restoration.

back the “giraffe stone” look. Although the man wasn’t enthusiastic about doing the project to begin with, he almost immediately changed his mind when he saw how good the new look was, and he eagerly finished the job. Then it was on to replacing the rotting plywood floors in the buildings, putting in hot running water, and other tasks to update and upgrade the condition of the property. John even added some non-functioning 1960s-era gas pumps out in front that he purchased at a flea market to add to the atmosphere and pay homage to the earlier filling station that once stood there.

Eventually, John and Alexa joined the Missouri Route 66 Association to further encourage the preservation and promotion of Route 66 landmarks.

“We went to our first meeting there, and I didn’t know what to expect. I brought a couple of books along that our property was in, and said, ‘Hey guys, I own this.’ Bob Gehl, their neon preservation guy, said, ‘I can get you money to get your sign fixed.’”

Gehl was referring to possible restoration of the “Modern Cabins” neon sign that still stood in deteriorating condition outside of R & S. The group informed the enthusiastic couple that money was available through the National Park Service for such historic refurbishments. John decided that the restoration project was a good idea, but rather than using federal money and being forced to deal with the paperwork and red tape that comes along with it, he would use his own money to finance the venture. He started researching what it would take to restore the sign to its former appearance, found a company to do the work, and after about a year and a half, the work was complete. On September 13, 2014, R & S held a lighting ceremony for the renewed neon, and attracted nearly six hundred people for the event. At that point, in recognition of their efforts to preserve the past, the location attained official Greene County Historic Landmark status.

The Schwekes couldn’t find many photos, beyond a few postcards, of the old Graystone Heights Modern Cabins to provide an accurate depiction of the premises during its heyday as a motel to work from in their restoration efforts, and local residents who possibly could remember the motor court’s precise appearance during its prime have become fewer and fewer. The only real history that John has been able to obtain about the motor court’s earlier days comes from the property title, and from the Missouri Route 66 Association itself. So, while they strive to recreate the overall style and representation of the era, a perfect restoration simply is not possible.

Old is Gold

The Modern Cabins became something of a popular honeymoon spot back in earlier days, possibly owing to the privacy offered by being able to enter the rooms from inside the garages. John tells the story of a woman who stopped by some time ago and told him that she had spent her honeymoon there. “When I asked her what she remembered of the place, she said, ‘Well, for dinner, we paid twenty-five cents for two Dr. Peppers and two Hershey bars, and we paid twenty-five cents to listen to the radio.’ Then I asked her if she could tell me anything about the rooms inside, and she said, ‘I don’t know, son, I was busy. It was my honeymoon,’ and I just started laughing. Actually, a lot of people from Springfield would spend their honeymoons out here, because this was way out in the country then.”

Today’s travelers often stop to take photographs and look around the property, despite it being an ongoing business. Not realizing that the location is no longer a motel, some even ask if they can rent the cabins for the night, as they can at some other historic motor courts in the area.

The efforts of the Schweke family and the R & S employees have been commendable, and a precious piece of the area’s history has been preserved for future generations. The Schwekes have put up signs recounting some of the history of the property for visitors, and John personally welcomes many of them as his time permits.

“It makes me feel proud and happy. I really was pretty embarrassed about the way it looked in the past, but now I’m very proud of it. I think it’s neat. They’re not going to make any more of these, and there are very few of them [left]. It’s very important to me to preserve this property, and to get it to where people see it, and say, ‘Wow, this is pretty cool.’”

Most visitors would agree that the Schweke family has already surpassed that goal.

Legends and Lanterns

It’s Saturday, October 15th, 11:30AM, on historic Main Street in St. Charles, Missouri. On any other Saturday, you’d find shop owners opening their doors for business — or, more likely, having already had their doors open for several hours. It is almost noon, after all. You’d find some people window-shopping on the sidewalk of one of the quaintest Main Streets in Missouri and others enjoying a treat from one of the many tasty eateries. In those respects, today is no different. However, on this warm morning the shoppers are joined by a cluster of costumed performers and imaginative exhibits to celebrate the season of Halloween and commemorate the first day of Legends & Lanterns, an annual celebration that is the envy of many towns and a key draw to the historic district of St. Charles. Halloween has been a beloved season in America since 1921, when the nation’s first citywide celebrations took place in Anoka, Minnesota. However, the gregarious town of St. Charles just loves it a little more than most!

Initially conceived by the Convention & Visitors Bureau as an effort to attract visitors on the weekends leading up to Halloween, Legends & Lanterns has quickly become an October staple of the city. Started in 2016 by Special Event Producer Ryan Cooper, this festival is a thriving pageant that celebrates everything from Halloween’s origins to the theatrics of dressing up, telling ghost stories, and appreciating the aesthetics we associate with the season in a family-friendly environment.

The street performers sprinkled throughout Main Street are some of the event’s star attractions. Characters range from historical figures like Edgar Allen Poe to mythological characters like Medusa and Stingy Jack. Not familiar with Stingy Jack? Well, there’s no need to haul out your compendium of Irish and Celtic mythology. The actors aren’t just performing bit parts — they are bona fide experts in whichever character they perform. “We usually audition at the end of May,” said Cooper, “There’s no script. No instructions on where to move. How to move. We’re an improv street performance festival.”

The festival merges a collection of both entertaining and informative events. Best of all, it is predominantly free of charge. For instance, kids can go to La Plaza del Dia de Los Muertos and get their faces painted while they learn about the cultural facets of the Day of the Dead.

On the flip side of Spanish traditions of Halloween, there are also Victorian traditions for celebrating the dear departed. Visitors taking a stroll through Frontier Park who enter the Historic Katy Depot will step foot into the Victorian Mourning Museum. There, they will find a collection of Victorian obsequies, such as tear vials, hair wreaths, and post-mortem photography of the recently deceased. There is a section dedicated to fashion, too; visitors will learn how they might dress depending on their relation to the dead, as well as general etiquette and the historical practices before the advent of funeral parlors. This venue is considerably more structured for informing, which was a deliberate choice on Cooper’s part. “The characters on the sidewalk are the foundation, but I wanted the event to have layers. More of an exhibit or a museum. It’s fun to watch people leave at the end of the day and say, ‘Wow, I never knew about that.’” This just scratches the surface of what happens at the festival. There are also live musical performances, horse-drawn hayrides, and a scarecrow competition. There’s even another attraction in Katy Depot called the Tinseltown Terrors. The depot is modified into an old-time movie house and projects trailers and movie clips from B-movies and monster movies from the 1930s and ‘50s. It is bound to be a nostalgic experience for some and an eye-opening experience for others.

However, none of these events could exist if it weren’t for the contributions of the event committees and the Halloweenloving volunteers and performers. In 2017, they had 20 performers. This year, 60 individuals will be divided into onstage actors and behind-the-scenes organizers. This is a point of pride for Cooper. “Having those who attend who don’t consider themselves Halloween people and showing them the fun of the holiday and changing their mind is one of the best feelings of organizing this event.”

So, whether Halloween is your cup of tea or not, this month, pay the friendly town of St. Charles a visit to soak in the history and culture surrounding one of the country’s most colorful holidays.

PURE QUIRK

PURE QUIRK

By Nick Gerlich Photograph by Efren Lopez/Route66Images

There is perhaps no more important a town along Route 66 in the modern era than Seligman, Arizona. It is here that the rebirth of a road, and in fact the birth of a movement, happened back in 1987, when Angel Delgadillo, affectionately known as the Father of the Mother Road, campaigned for Historic Route 66 signage in his home state, and together with a few other key local families, founded the Historic Route 66 Association of Arizona.

Just like how the lights went out in 1978 when I-40 bypassed Seligman, the lights were suddenly back on. And the tourists did come — in cars, on motorcycles, and by the busload.

One of the more popular establishments along this stretch of 66 — and there are many kooky stops in town — is Historic Seligman Sundries, housed in one of the oldest commercial buildings in town, which dates back to 1904. The building has housed many enterprises throughout the years, beginning life as the Pioneer Hall and Theatre, then Ted’s Fountain & Trading Post in 1930, a short-term hospital during the pandemic of 1918, and later Seligman Sundries.

Ted’s was renowned for a variety of goods, from Navajo rugs to curios, baskets, and jewelry, as well as its famous malts. By the early 1960s when it was finally Seligman Sundries, it continued serving up delicious malts, but had also diversified into veterinary supplies and served as the local Greyhound bus station.

It was in 2005, though, that the popular stopover as we know it today began to take shape. Frank and Lynn Kocevar bought the vacant structure from the former proprietor, Lupe Muñoz, and began the time-consuming task of renovation. Muñoz, who was by then elderly, had begun the slow process of retiring several years before by only opening a couple of days a week.

The business had become too hard for her to maintain, yet she clung to it valiantly. Muñoz finally shuttered it a couple of years prior, but refused to sell to anyone from town or even California. When the Kocevars, who had moved to Seligman in 2003 from Phoenix, approached her, she finally acquiesced and handed over the reins. “It was a time capsule,” Frank said, but the building, which had long been aging in the arid high desert, desperately needed repair.

The Kocevars painstakingly cleared the interior, and in the process uncovered a large array of antiques and vintage advertising pieces. These were used prominently in the decor. Repairs were made to the two-story, wood-sided building, and it was then painted a bright turquoise with yellow signage. Upgrades to heating, air conditioning, and plumbing were also done.

“The building was a treasure trove of artifacts,” Frank recalled. “There were unopened boxes of merchandise. It was as if Ms. Muñoz just slowly faded away and left everything in place.”

Interestingly, Seligman Sundries’ calling card now, especially among diehard java fans, is a gourmet coffee shop, which was added in 2007. But it is the original soda fountain that the Kocevars loved most, and they made sure to keep it as close to the original condition as possible. Gifts and jewelry rounded out the assortment, along with a small museum.

By September 2014, though, the Kocevars were ready to take a step back and enjoy the slower pace of life found in Seligman. Upon reflecting on their decade in business, they decided that it was time for some new blood to take over, and they sold Seligman Sundries to Thomas Muetzel and Ursula “Uschi” Fuchs, who had already established themselves as regular customers.

Muetzel, a German by birth, has been in the U.S. for more than 20 years, and Fuchs, a Swiss national, has been here for more than 40 years. The pair had led motorcycle and bus tour groups for many years, when Fuchs introduced Muetzel to the Seligman Sundries on one of their journeys. He fell in love with the place, and it sparked an interest in taking over the reins.

The two had already grown weary of their traveling life and were eager to find something new. Flagstaff, their permanent home at the time, was not far away, and they could envision themselves as proprietors. “I saw the buses and the espresso and thought that this could be a good change in life,” said Thomas. “I told them that if they ever wanted to sell, to let Uschi and me know. On my next tour a couple of weeks later, they told us they would sell. We met, agreed on a price, and resigned from the tour company.”

The couple then set to putting their own spin on the shop. “We did our own thing,” he continued. “We gave it a new touch. We rearranged things, bought new merchandise, and added t-shirts of our own design.” They experienced six years of consecutive annual growth in sales, but the pandemic brought that to a halt. “We opened again this March and are enthusiastic and hopeful.” The couple sold their house in Flagstaff, and now temporarily reside at a nearby campground in their RV.

Today when tourists stop in Seligman, be it a lone traveler or 40 folks traveling on a deluxe tour bus, they quickly discover that the historic town is best experienced on foot. The commercial district, if it can be called that, is only a few blocks long. It is thus quite the norm for eight months each year to see flocks of out-of-state cars, motorcycles, and a steady stream of buses descending upon the little town. In fact, it is easy to comprehend how Seligman’s current population of 764 easily doubles each day during the height of tourist season.

Muetzel and Fuchs, though, are now beginning to think like the Kocevars. “We are both of a progressed age. I like this place, and enjoy working there, but we have retirement plans. It is a lot of work during the season. There is a plan to sell. If people are interested, they can contact us,” noted Thomas. It’s a turnkey operation at this point, waiting for the next generation of owners to keep Seligman Sundries alive.

Both the shop and the town itself are reminders of rebirth. Just as Delgadillo was instrumental in putting 66 back on the map, the Kocevars, and now Thomas and Uschi, have each played a critical role in preserving what was originally the first commercial business in Seligman.

And in large part, all of those cars, motorcycles, and buses stopping every day during tourist season are the results of their efforts.

PLACE OF MYSTERY

It has often been said that Route 66 is representative of the country as a whole. While a romanticized highway, America’s Main Street is in many ways a beautiful example of what is occurring across the nation: the good and the bad. It has always been that way. Today, we are left with tales of murder and mystery that, while less promoted when discussing Route 66, are still a part of the spice of a journey into the country’s fascinating past.

Perhaps the best example of this are the 1967 murders at Budville, a tiny burg in western New Mexico. “As far as I know, it is still an unsolved murder,” said Jim Hinckley, author of Murder and Mayhem On The Main Street Of America.

The abandoned service station with its shards of neon dangling in the breeze, provides set dressing for one of the most infamous cases on the Mother Road. The forlorn trading post has become one of the most popular photo stops in this part of the state; the building and sign have been frozen in time for decades. Modern-day visitors wait for ghostly whispers to provide clues, but the trail of the perpetrator(s) has long grown cold, no one the smarter today.

It all went down on November 18 that year, the night that Budville earned its nickname “Bloodville.” But first, a little back story.

Budville is located on the Mother Road about 50 miles west of Albuquerque, and more specifically in between Paraje and Cubero. Just beyond where the road curves north is where Howard Neal “Bud” Rice and his wife, Flossie, had opened his eponymously named service station in 1928. Bud, who could put on a friendly veneer when he needed to, was also rather ruthless and cunning as a businessman. What started as gasoline and basic auto repairs evolved into trading post, grocery, wrecking service, bus station, and even cabins that provided lodging for nearby migrant workers.

So well-known was Bud that the surrounding community came to be known as Budville, in spite of the fact that he ruled the area with an iron fist. As Justice of the Peace in these parts, he levied exorbitant speeding fines. And as the only tow truck operator between the Rio Puerco and Grants, he could demand equally outrageous towing fees.

In 1939, he was convicted of assault, but three years later received a full pardon from the Governor. So powerful was this man that Bud convinced highway officials to put an exit along the then-new I-40 within sight of his station. The sun had already set that late autumn day, one that was rather mild by New Mexico standards. Bud was preparing to close for the evening when a customer walked in waving a gun. Also in the shop were Flossie, 82-year-old part-time employee Blanche Brown, and another unnamed employee. The man demanded all of the day’s receipts, which tallied $450. While no one knows with certainty what happened, Flossie reportedly ran screaming, the other employee took refuge in the bathroom, and Bud and Blanche lay dead on the floor in pools of their own blood.

A few minutes later, a Continental Trailways bus arrived, whose driver saw an old pickup truck leave the scene of the crime at high speed. Darkness precluded him from seeing a license plate number, but he did recall it having only one working tail light.

Police later arrested a sailor, Larry Bunten, under suspicion of the murders, but he was able to establish that he was nowhere near Budville at that time. He was subsequently released, even though Flossie identified him as the assailant.

Progress on the case, which went stale for many months, then pivoted. “The best candidate they had for committing this crime was a fellow named Billy Ray White,” Hinckley continued. “There were three men arrested in Albuquerque a few years later, and they offered details about the Budville murders. They fingered a compadre of theirs who was involved with them in a lot of crimes: Billy White.”

White was subsequently let go because there was not enough evidence to convict him, in spite of a later sentencing for a very similar robbery and murder in Louisiana. Meanwhile, Flossie had married Philip Atkinson, who was ironically gunned down in 1973 mere feet from where Bud had laid dying.

White then died of his own hand in 1974, after he supposedly confessed to another inmate that he did indeed commit the Budville murders. Flossie remarried again, and passed away in 1994, putting an end to the chilling tale of that fateful November night.

And, unfortunately, the truth went to the graves with all of them. Today, the trading post sits empty, a silent reminder of an event that occurred long ago.