ROUTE THE MAGAZINE THAT CELEBRATES ROAD TRAVEL, VINTAGE AMERICANA AND ROUTE 66
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THE BIG SUMMER ISSUE June/July 2022 $5.99
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MOJAVE DESERT RELICS BRAIDWOOD’S ICONIC POLK-A-DOT DRIVE IN SOMETHING SPECIAL IS HAPPENING IN TULSA
We’ll Show You Around Springfield! Whether it’s classic cars, old-fashioned burgers or a museum that brings history to life, you can relive the glory days of Route 66 in its birthplace. We love our city and know the best places to eat, drink and play. See you in Springfield, Missouri!
Point your smartphone camera at this QR code to find out more about things to do in Springfield. ii ROUTE Magazine
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Welcome to the middle of America’s Main Street, Route 66. The legendary scenic byway where the road trip was born, where nostalgia is the norm, and every retro detail has been restored to its golden-age glory. Learn more at enjoyillinois.com
Route 66 Motorheads
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Here, play has no age limit. A sprawling urban oasis hosts picnics and pick-up games of frisbee. Paddleboaters and pedestrians move side by side. Custom-swirled ice cream forms peaks, dotted by sprinkles. Retro hotel rooms moonlight as local art galleries. Pastel murals lull guests to sleep. And a neon cowboy draws in late-night moviegoers with his glow. E
Scissortail Park Oklahoma City
STAY
EAT
Cities Ice Cream Edmond
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Imagine that.
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Classen Inn Oklahoma City
Winchester Drive-In Theatre Oklahoma City
Get more ideas for imaginative outings at TravelOK.com.
Order or download your free Route 66 Guide & Passport at TravelOK.com.
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NEW EXHIBITION
The SuperNatural 21c is the perfect road trip destination for the curious traveler. Explore our latest multi-media art exhibition, The SuperNatural, indulge in creative cuisine at Mary Eddy’s Dining Room, and make a night of it in one of our stylish and light-filled rooms. #4 Top Hotel in the Midwest – Condé Nast Traveler Readers’ Choice Awards 2021
21cOklahomaCity.com OPEN AND FREE 24/7/365 Elena Dorfman, Transmutation 2 (Gold Dome) (detail), 2018. Chromogenic print with mixed media, unique 22 carat gold, and palladium leaf mounted on Dibond.
Culture you can step into.
Storyteller Museum Monday - Friday Gallup Cultural Center
Summer Indigenous Arts: Dances Monday, Wednesday, Friday May - August Gallup Cultural Center
Summer Indigenous Arts: Demonstrations Fridays, May - August Gallup Cultural Center
VisitGallup.com
Chicago
Willowbrook
Romeoville
Joliet
Joliet
Wilmington
Braidwood
Dwight
Pontiac
Pontiac
www.TheFirstHundredMiles.com
Discover the road that inspped dreamers and adventurers
Roll down your windows and take an all-American adventure on historic Route 66. Get a breath-taking view of the Mississippi from atop the sky-high Gateway Arch. Dip into an ice-cold, refreshing “concrete” at Ted Drewes Frozen Custard. Or just take in the open road. It’s everything you love about the Midwest, all in one place. Discover more reasons to visit at explorestlouis.com.
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CONTENTS
The ghost town of Essex, CA, at night. Photograph by Billy Brewer.
22 The Crown Jewel
By Cheryl Eichar Jett In the early 20th Century, entrepreneur Fred Harvey tasked architect Mary Colter with designing a luxury hotel along the AT&SF railroad tracks in the Southwest. It would turn out to be her finest professional accomplishment. Explore the origins, degradation, and eventual restoration of the beautiful La Posada Hotel in Winslow, Arizona, and meet the trio who saved it.
32 Dino Days
By Richard Ratay In 1932, notable billionaire Harry Ford Sinclair trademarked the lovable brontosaurus figure nicknamed ‘Dino’ as a signifier for his blossoming company, Sinclair Motor Oils. Learn the story behind both Sinclair and his Mesozoic mascot, and how this small oil company became one of the most influential in the nation.
42 A Conversation with Richard Marx
By Brennen Matthews One of the most celebrated American musicians of the last fifty years, Marx remains unique among other artists of the ’80s and ’90s, in that his music refuses to slip through the cracks of listeners’ minds and hearts. In this conversation, Marx speaks openly about his unique childhood, his unexpected entrance into the music industry, and even his personal journey as a son and as a father.
50 Out in the Desert
By Nick Gerlich Despite its desolate and unforgiving landscape, the Mojave Desert is still a very popular route for motorists heading west in search 10 ROUTE Magazine
of a lesser-traveled path. But it is also home to one of Route 66’s most iconic roadside attractions — Roy’s Motel and Cafe. Meet a destination that has stood the test of time, and the family that stepped in to preserve it.
62 Art Deco Extravaganza
By Chip Minty William Franklin has a deep passion for art — a calling that led him to open a truly unusual, quirky roadside attraction. In this article, get to know Franklin and discover this Tulsa artist’s effort to revitalize his town’s Art Deco legacy.
72 Braidwood’s Beacon
By Ale Malick The Polk-A-Dot Drive In, in Braidwood, Illinois, is one of the Mother Road’s most iconic roadside eateries. Originally operating out of a school bus in the 1960s, the Polk-A-Dot quickly became a stand-out spot for fast food dining along 66. But boy, do they have a story to tell!
ON THE COVER The scenic road near Bridgeport, Oklahoma, as it rises and falls on Route 66. Photograph by David J. Schwartz – Pics On Route 66.
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EDITORIAL By the time that you are reading this issue, I will be well into finalizing the lastminute details for my upcoming trip down Route 66 and across America. I love the feeling of excitement and anticipation as they build. There is a hunger to be back out on the road, heading south, heading west… just moving. I’ve fine-tuned my playlist, purchased any items that are important to have with me as I travel, and altered my itinerary fifty times. I’m ready. It’s funny; no matter how many times I drive Route 66, I never repeat the same trip twice. This is one of the major ways that America’s most iconic road is truly not the “expected” experience that so many people set out to enjoy, but rather a living, breathing example of the entire country. Route 66 offers a great deal of amazing history and culture, and of course fun roadside stops and attractions that set it apart from many other historic highways. But the highway and the quaint, welcoming towns that it runs through, are in fact, just a snapshot of American life, politics, culture, and happenings, that are going on everywhere else in the country at the time. And when you add the reality that over the last year we’ve lost some pretty iconic venues, signs, roadside attractions, and more, and gained a whole host of fun new stops across the road that are sure to pull us off of the tarmac, my trip — and yours — is guaranteed to be, while familiar, a whole new experience bouncing along the historic highway through America. In this issue, we are delighted to bring you a fresh take on some pretty wellfrequented places. Think you know their stories? Think again. Dive into wellresearched and crafted articles on Winslow, Arizona’s La Posada Hotel and Braidwood, Illinois’ Polk-A-Dot Drive In. Out in the middle of the Mojave, Nick Gerlich takes us through the life and times of Roy’s Motel and Cafe, and Joe Sonderman steps back in time with Missouri’s long-lost John’s Modern Cabins. We also feature the story behind California’s deserted Cadiz Summit ruins, Bloomington-Normal, Illinois’ fabulously restored Sprague’s Super Service station, and a special story by author Richard Ratay on the classic Sinclair Oil and their lovable mascot, DINO. We also spend some intimate time with one of my favorite musical icons, Richard Marx. If you are a fan of 1980s and 1990s music, Marx was most likely on your playlist. These and so many other stories make up our Big Summer Issue. On a personal note, I have some exciting news. I have a new book coming out in a few months called Miles to Go: An African Family in Search of America along Route 66. It is the story of my first journey down Route 66 and across America. It was unexpected and the catalyst for ROUTE Magazine. I would be delighted if you would pre-order a copy now and join my family and me as we discover America via its most beloved historic highway. It was quite a ride. As we begin the summer season, I hope that you all have a wonderful period of relaxation and joy, and that you find time to hit the road and take in some of the special places you see featured and advertised in ROUTE. They’ll be waiting for you. Remember to follow us on social media, and if you’ve not yet subscribed to ROUTE, do so now and never miss an issue. Blessings, Brennen Matthews Editor
ROUTE PUBLISHER Thin Tread Media EDITOR Brennen Matthews DEPUTY EDITOR Kate Wambui ASSOCIATE EDITOR Cheryl Eichar Jett EDITOR-AT-LARGE Nick Gerlich LEAD EDITORIAL PHOTOGRAPHER David J. Schwartz LAYOUT AND DESIGN Tom Heffron EDITORIAL ASSISTANTS Kaylee Sugimoto Madeleine Hearn DIGITAL Matheus Alves ILLUSTRATOR Jennifer Mallon CONTRIBUTORS AND PHOTOGRAPHERS Ale Malick Andrea Ament Aaron Ryburn Billy Brewer Chandler O’Leary Chip Minty Deborah Allen Efren Lopez Emily Steward Eric Axene Jim Hinckley Joe Sonderman Kevin Eatinger Lee Russell Mike Vieira Nick Spanos Richard Ratay Spencer Johansen Tania Armenta Theresa Romano 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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DESTINATION: CARLSBAD, NEW MEXICO From 750 feet underground at the Carlsbad Caverns to floating down the gorgeous Pecos River, Carlsbad, has everything you need for your New Mexico Adventure. VISIT CARLSBAD, NEW MEXICO, WHERE POSSIBILITIES ARE ENDLESS! Carlsbad Chamber of Commerce 302 S Canal • Carlsbad, NM 88220 • 575-887-6516 tourism@carlsbadchamber.com Paid in part by Carlsbad lodgers tax. ROUTE Magazine 13
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ever let your means determine your dreams. Those were the inspiring words that Kasey Wells was already living by when he heard them from a supporter while on his quest for the presidency of the United States in 2020. He would be running as an independent write-in candidate, and he was hopeful. Though his chances were not high, the Lexington, Illinois, artist wasn’t going to let that stand in his way of mounting a good campaign. But what could he do to garner the needed interest and attention? Of course, he would create a scrap metal sculpture to promote his ideas and agenda. The result was an eleven-foot elephant that Wells named American Standard. His plan: sell his creation to finance his fledgling campaign. Unfortunately, he could not find a ready buyer for his creation, so he decided to enter it in an art competition in North Carolina instead. Wells strapped the oneton elephant to a flatbed trailer behind his vehicle and headed south. And there, fortune found him; he garnered both Best of Show and People’s Choice awards for his work. But more importantly, the experience changed his plans for the elephant, and for his campaign. He was able to use his prize money to get his campaign going, and the attention that his artwork attracted along the way made him realize that it could be a valuable publicity tool and icebreaker for his presidential run. Meant to represent the “elephant in the room” that people don’t want to discuss — the influence of money on political policy, power, and economics — the elephant logged more than 20,000 miles through forty-five states in 2019 and 2020. Navigating the labyrinth of rules in each state for eligibility as a write-in candidate was a complicated, stressful process, as was avoiding low clearance overpasses for his trailered elephant. Wells’ low-budget campaign effort saw him leave home with just five hundred dollars in his pocket, but donations along the way kept him going in his travels. “I ended up receiving about eight thousand dollars in donations,” said Wells. “It was at the beginning of COVID when I started, so there was everything to stop me. But I was so stubborn and determined to do what I set out to do, I just went for it. I didn’t necessarily have everything I needed when I started,
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but everything was there for me, just when I needed it.” Wells had been studying John D. Rockefeller and his Standard Oil Company for over ten years, and ironically, a good portion of his artwork is from a scrapped Standard Oil fuel tank from a nearby farm. One side of the elephant depicts Standard Oil and its subsidiary companies, while the other side portrays the many politically influential philanthropic endeavors of Rockefeller. The ears list some of Wells’ platform policies for his presidential aspirations. The rather unorthodox visual representation of his political concerns made it easier to talk with people and explain his positions on the campaign trail. Wells has been creating metal sculptures since 2016, but the elephant is his largest creation to date. To the artist, his view of the pachyderm is insightful: he likes to say that it’s taken him all his life to make it. The fabricated creation contains artifacts and knowledge that he’s gained since his childhood. The actual construction, for which he collaborated with Chicagobased artist Kyle Riley, took a little over six months. When the campaign wrapped up, and the elephant was done with its travels, it returned to Lexington, a city that celebrates its Route 66 heritage with a number of historic displays, including a stretch of the original alignment of the old road. Mayor Spencer Johansen considered purchasing the elephant as a municipal artwork to attract tourism but could not agree to a price with Wells. As it stands right now, Wells retains ownership of the artwork and the right to sell it. The city exhibits it in a park along the Mother Road, just blocks away from his home, near other points of interest, including an old Standard Oil gas station. Several other scrap metal pieces of art created by Wells are on display on private land in and around Lexington. The elephant has become a welcome addition to Lexington, with people often stopping to take pictures with the unusual creature. He is right at home along the Mother Road. For the time being, Kasey Wells’ political plans are on hold, as he focuses on his three-year-old and six-month-old children. But his journey was an exciting one that resulted in many lessons and a new stop for visitors to his town. Indeed, never let your means determine your dreams!
Image courtesy of the Mayor of Lexington, Spencer Johansen.
L E X I NGTON ’S FA N C Y E L E P H A N T
WHERE T HE MO T HER ROAD BEGINS
Route 66 defined a remarkable era in our nation’s history – and it lives on today in Illinois’ Route 66’s many roadside attractions, museums, and restaurants – it’s the shining ribbon of blacktop we call ‘The Mother Road’.
SPE N D SOME T IME ON T HE I L L I N O I S R O U T E 6 6 S C E N I C B Y WA Y A N D DI S C OV E R ROU T E 6 6 Start planning your trip now at www.illinoisroute66.org. Request a visitor’s guide by emailing info@illinoisroute66.org and make sure to check out our mobile app by searching for ‘Explore Illinois Route 66’ in the App Store and Google Play, to help with all of your Route 66 Illinois planning.
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S
ay “Oklahoma frontier” and it triggers thoughts of cowboys and Indians, cattle drives, vast sweeping prairies — and a drugstore museum? All thoughts of the romantic West aside, frontier towns always welcomed the arrival of a doctor or pharmacist to their community. They played a critical role then as they do now. And in Guthrie, only thirty miles north of Oklahoma City, an intriguing but unusual museum featuring a huge collection of memorabilia and ephemera associated with early pharmacies, has a hundred stories to share. Guthrie was just a railroad stop until the Land Run of 1889, when it gained 10,000 residents who set to work building the territorial capital. In 1907, when Oklahoma became a state, it also served as the capital. But a movement was on to move the capital to Oklahoma City, which had outpaced Guthrie in population and commerce. When the capital was moved in 1910, Guthrie’s growth stalled, and so as the years passed, its lovely brick downtown was almost completely preserved, and is one of the largest historic districts on the National Register of Historic Places. Early in the 1970s, pharmacist Ralph Enix in Kingfisher developed the belief that Oklahoma’s early pharmacy history should be saved. To that end, Enix and several of his colleagues began to collect donations of old drugstore paraphernalia from across Oklahoma. In 1980, the group incorporated the Oklahoma Pharmacy Heritage Foundation (OPHF), with Enix as its first president, and began raising funds for a museum, in order to preserve and display a large amount of the memorabilia. “Every single thing, every tiny little bottle, came from donations from thousands of people all over the state,” explained Pam Ekiss, Curator and Manager of the museum in Guthrie. “And of course, they spent years raising enough money to buy a building. Ralph Enix could be pretty persuasive. He had his heart set on getting this accomplished.” In Guthrie’s historic downtown, the OPHF discovered just the right structure — the 1890 Gaffney Building, which originally housed one of the first drugstores in the territory, operated by Forress B. Lillie. Lillie held the first license issued by the territorial board of pharmacy, and the prized artifact is on display in the museum — what was once the Lillie Drug 16 ROUTE Magazine
Store. The OPHF was able to purchase the Gaffney Building from Mrs. Ruby Tryon (a history lover), who wanted to see another museum open in Guthrie. But inside the building, after changing hands over the years, the original pharmacy cabinetry had been lost to time and remodeling. In early 1992, the OPHF found, purchased, and moved the entire interior — all the pharmacy fixtures — of Sions Drugs in Cleo Springs to the Gaffney Building in Guthrie. Volunteers spent months moving and arranging the thousands of mostly donated items: medicine bottles, jars, and boxes; mortars and pestles; apothecary jars; cosmetics; signs and memorabilia; and ephemera. And, a vintage soda fountain to provide plenty of nostalgia. As the OPHF members readied the museum for its opening, they needed a curator and manager. That’s when they asked retired Guthrie pharmacist Mark Ekiss — father of Pam Ekiss — to step in. “They came to Dad, they needed somebody to look after it. Dad had just retired from his drugstore and said he’d look after it for a few weeks until they found somebody. A few weeks turned into almost 20 years,” said Pam. After a distinguished career as a pharmacist, Ekiss had gotten involved with the OPHF prior to the museum opening and was also instrumental in establishing the Apothecary Garden next door on the site of a demolished building. The garden opened in 2006, and the following year, a group of Guthrie citizens raised nearly $40,000 as part of the Oklahoma Centennial Celebration to give Guthrie its own Centennial Clock, which became the garden’s centerpiece. By then, Ekiss was 86 years old, but he remained at the museum another year. “His eyesight was getting worse. I started coming down more and more, giving him all the help I could, and then when he passed away [in 2012 at the age of 91], I stayed on,” Pam explained. Now, second-generation curator Pam Ekiss has been there for about 20 years. Oklahoma is especially blessed with a wide and eclectic collection of museums that nicely capture the state’s fascinating history and heritage, but this one may be just a little more unexpected. But surely, a visit to this museum is, likely, just what the doctor ordered.
Image by Aaron Ryburn.
THE OK L A HOMA FRONTIER DRUGSTOR E MUSEUM
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The Mill on 66
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riving through the heart of Illinois, a unique, dark red-painted structure falls into view, with modest homes on one side and an industrial feel just beyond. This windmill-topped building has stood alongside Route 66 at the southern edge of Lincoln, Illinois, for over ninety years. From its humble beginnings as a sandwich shop to its resurrection as a museum, the Mill on 66 remains one of the most iconic stops along the Illinois portion of America’s most beloved highway. As fascinating as the Mill itself is, the historic character of the small Midwestern city in which it stands is no less gripping. Named after the 16th president, the City of Lincoln’s charm was the backdrop for the Mill’s first few years in business under the ownership of local resident Paul Coddington. In 1929, Coddington constructed a small sandwich shop in the style of a blue-and-white-trimmed Dutch windmill, its sails spinning in the breeze. At the “Blue Mill,” he served food at all hours to working-class residents in Lincoln as well as tourists. Through Coddington’s tireless efforts, the Blue Mill quickly became a social hotspot and roadside eatery. However, in the years following World War II, the Mill underwent a transformation. In 1945, Albert and Blossom Huffman purchased the eatery and expanded the space with a war-surplus barracks to become a fully functioning restaurant, bar, and dance hall. Jazzed up with a new red paint job, the Mill Restaurant quickly became Lincoln’s wildest bar throughout the mid-20th Century. Locals and tourists that frequented the venue were greeted by waitresses in blue-and-white uniforms, ready to serve their famous schnitzel. Despite its popularity, the Mill Restaurant closed in 1996; in the following years, it deteriorated from a local hotspot to a derelict building. By the late ‘90s, it had become an eye-sore to local officials, and demolition seemed certain. Fortunately, however, the Mill’s fate was not set in stone. When Lincoln resident Geoff Ladd learned of Logan County’s plans for demolition, he initiated grassroots efforts to raise funds for the restoration of the Mill, determined to one day transform it into a museum. Ladd
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recruited volunteers and donors to preserve the Mill and was also able to acquire grants from other organizations. After a decade of determination, the Mill officially reopened in 2017 as a museum, dedicated primarily to the history of three important Route 66 wayside restaurants — The Mill and The Tropics in Lincoln, and The Pig Hip six miles south in tiny Broadwell — of which the latter two no longer exist. “Route 66 is such a big part of Lincoln’s history, and for three iconic restaurants that were so important in traveling the Route… it’s important to preserve the history of what those restaurants offered the town,” said Alice Roate, Executive Director of the Logan County Tourism Bureau. “They attracted a lot of visitors and got them off the Route, stopping into town and adding to its economy.” Nowadays, a walk through the Mill on 66 Museum reveals the fruits of Lincoln residents’ labor; as an homage to the building’s origins, some of the restaurant fixtures of the Mill have been preserved. An original restaurant booth looks as though it might never have been moved from its spot, and the original bar showcases gifts and books for sale. Glass showcases display memorabilia and ephemera from the three iconic Route 66 eateries, including menus, matchbooks, advertising, signs, dishes, and oddities. “Those unique restaurants represented a lot of the local business at that time, so it’s really important to preserve [them], because it’s something from a different era, and we need to remember what that era looked like,” said Roate. “We love it when people come in that were there when [The Mill] was a restaurant, and we get to hear their stories.” The Mill’s journey to becoming a museum has solidified it as a sort of Midwestern “cabinet of curiosities” along the Mother Road; through almost a century of renovations, transformations, and threats of demolition, the original structure happily remains standing in Lincoln. The Mill on 66’s survival is a product of not only the integrity of the building itself, but the determination of the local residents who worked tirelessly to preserve it, unwilling to allow a landmark of American travel and hospitality to perish in their own backyard.
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W IL D
BI LL
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By Jim Hinckley
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yth, legend, and folklore have played a defining role in societies since at least when Jason and the Argonauts set out in search of the golden fleece. Often underlying the tales of heroes, heroines, tragedies, and epic adventures are grains of truth. But with the passing of time trying to separate fact from fiction becomes a Herculean task. Such is the case with many of the legendary personalities of the western frontier. As with the heroes in ancient Greek mythology, the exploits of James Butler Hickok, best known as Wild Bill Hickok, were epic. But his was a life tinged with pathos. And even while he was alive, myth often shrouded reality as his evolving story was chronicled with artistic license in countless dime novels. Hickok has been the subject of more than twenty American motion pictures, beginning in 1923 with William Hart playing the lead role in Wild Bill Hickok. Fictionalized accounts of his exploits fueled the popularity of a television program, The Adventures of Wild Bill Hickok, starring Guy Madison that aired from 1951 to 1958. He was parodied in a Three Stooges short and Woody Woodpecker cartoons. And he has been the subject of dozens of novels, comic books, and even musical ballads. In an interview about his book, Wild Bill Hickok, Bob Boze Bell of True West magazine said, “The biggest problem with Wild Bill is that his massive legend almost turned him into a cartoon character. I recently met some Old West fans from Britain who questioned whether Wild Bill even existed. Hickok is almost too perfect in his appearance and swaggering abilities. He seems made up.” Born on May 27, 1837, in Homer, Illinois, Hickok was a child of the frontier. As a teenager, he found employment in the rough-and-tumble canal boat trade on rivers in the Midwest. By 1856, he was a member of the antislavery Free State Army of Jayhawkers that was involved in increasingly bloody skirmishes in Kansas. His exploits during the American Civil War earned him the moniker “Wild Bill.” And during the American Indian Wars, he served as a scout for General William T. Sherman, General Winfield Scott Hancock, and Lt. Col. George Armstrong Custer. 20 ROUTE Magazine
On July 21, 1865, Hickok faced off against Davis Tutt on the town square in Springfield, Missouri, where he was living at the time — the culmination of an argument over gambling debts, Hickok’s prized watch, and Tutt displaying the watch to humiliate his opponent. According to court transcripts, the two men fired simultaneously. Tutt’s shot was wild, but Hickok’s was on target. A three-day trial ended with Hickok being acquitted of manslaughter charges. The court declared that he had had justifiable provocation. Leading up into the early 1870s, Hickok kept the peace in Abilene, Kansas, and Deadwood, South Dakota, a role that came naturally to him. Capitalizing on his reputation as a marksman, he joined Buffalo Bill Cody’s internationally acclaimed Wild West Show in 1873 and was given top billing. However, it proved to be a short-lived endeavor, as Hickok suffered from bouts of depression fueled by heavy drinking, and the onset of glaucoma. He became a drifting gambler and, reportedly, was arrested for vagrancy on several occasions. In 1876 he set out for the boomtowns in the Black Hills of the South Dakota territory. It was on this adventure that he crossed paths with another legend of the western frontier, Martha Jane Cannary, better known as “Calamity Jane.” On August 2, 1876, in Saloon #10, Hickok joined a poker game. Uncharacteristically, he sat with his back to the door. Jack McCall quietly entered the saloon and fired one shot into the back of Hickok’s head. The cards Hickok had been holding — a pair of black aces, a pair of black eights, and an unknown fifth card — are now known as the “Dead Man’s Hand.” He was buried in Mount Moriah Cemetery in Deadwood. His friend and periodic sidekick Calamity Jane — who passed in August 1903 — is buried beside him. But as with Achilles and many of the heroes of ancient Greece, Hickok’s death at age 39 was not the final chapter. With the passing of time the myth, the legend flourished, and the colorful character from a fascinating period in American history became the larger-than-life persona of the Old West that we know today.
O N E XHI B I T | J U N E 2 – AU G U S T 7, 2022 A RT SA LE W E E K E N D | JU N E 17 – 18, 2022
Thomas Blackshear II, Two Americans of the Old West, Oil on canvas, 43 1/4” x 33”
pdw.nationalcowboymuseum.org 1700 Northeast 63rd Street • Oklahoma City, OK 73111 • (405) 478-2250 • nationalcowboymuseum.org Museum Partners Devon Energy Corporation • E.L. and Thelma Gaylord Foundation Major Support The True Foundation Presented by
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THE CRO
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OWN JEWEL By Cheryl Eichar Jett Photographs by Deborah Allen
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ne day in the late 1920s, a petite, 60-ish Midwestern woman stepped off an Atchison, Topeka & Santa Fe (AT&SF) train in Winslow, Arizona. She had been tasked by Fred Harvey, her employer for a quarter of a century by then, to design a luxurious resort hotel there. It would be the last railroad hotel in Fred Harvey’s string of lodging gems along the AT&SF tracks in the American Southwest. The woman was Mary Colter, Fred Harvey’s chief designer, and she had been given free rein to design the Winslow hotel as she envisioned it — the building, the landscaping, the décor, and the art. It would be her masterpiece. Almost seventy years later, in the mid-1990s, a social activist and graduate student and his wife, an artist who had met her husband on a peace walk across Ukraine, arrived in Winslow. They had come to observe the dilapidated AT&SF railroad offices— once the romantic La Posada — stripped of Mary Colter’s genius and cheapened by bland office partitions. A local preservation group was struggling to save the once-beautiful old hotel from destruction. The couple’s names were Allan Affeldt and Tina Mion, and Allan was about to find his new calling. Now, the story of La Posada belongs to Affeldt, who captained the charge to save it, Mion, and their third partner, sculptor and friend Daniel Lutzick. But the saga of La Posada began with the iconic Fred Harvey, whose travel and tourism empire set the bar for those who came after, and with architect-designer Mary Colter, who romanticized the Southwest for us all.
The Players — Act One Fred Harvey and his same-named company is at the heart of many Southwestern American stories of the late 1800s and early decades of the 1900s, and no less this one. Harvey began with one trackside shack in Topeka, Kansas, serving decent food to passengers used to bad food — or no food. From modest trackside eateries to hotels to coffee shops within union stations, Fred Harvey served the traveler in what was then the major mode of conveyance — the railroad. Ford Harvey, Fred’s oldest child, had shadowed his ill father for fifteen years when Fred died from colon cancer in 1901. Groomed to take the reins since age 19, Ford was ready, assisted by trusted managers and Fred’s son-in-law John Huckel. Fred left behind instructions — the name of the company would continue to be simply “Fred Harvey.” Mary Colter’s favorite possession growing up in St. Paul, Minnesota — and likely the key to her love of Native American art and culture — was a Sioux drawing given to her as a child. After the unexpected death of her father in 1886, her mother and sister moved to California with Mary, where she studied at the California School of Design and apprenticed to a local architect. In 1902, she decorated the 24 ROUTE Magazine
Indian Room at Fred Harvey’s magnificent new Alvarado Hotel in Albuquerque, New Mexico, after which she remained with the company until her retirement in 1948.
Fred Harvey’s Last Great Railroad Hotel By the late 1920s, Fred Harvey still owned or oversaw around 85 properties across the Midand Southwest. But they had a plan for one last property that would outshine them all. That hotel would be tucked away in a pretty little town in southeastern Arizona. The company saw Winslow as an enticing stop between Santa Fe, New Mexico, and the Grand Canyon. With a population of 4,000, it was a convenient hub for tourists from which to visit the Painted Desert, the Petrified Forest, and the Meteor Crater. The new Transcontinental Air Transport (TAT) Airport was bringing the likes of Charles Lindbergh and Howard Hughes into town. And the economy was booming. By the late 1920s, tourists were flocking to the Grand Canyon and other Southwestern attractions. It was an exciting time. In 1927, Ford Harvey wrote a letter to his brother Byron extolling the nearby presence of attractions and adding, “I am convinced there is quite a future there!” Then in January 1929, the Santa Fe Railway announced the new hotel and station, with construction beginning in April. Mary Colter is thought to have been working on the plans since 1928. John Huckel, Colter’s day-to-day boss, was well aware that the very idea of a romantic, luxurious resort hotel demanded the artistic sensibilities of their chief designer. Colter employed the method of design creation that she’d initiated with her Grand Canyon projects — imagining a full story for a building, to create both its past and its raison d’etre. Her vision for La Posada was that of a Spanish hacienda, its family of inhabitants, and the art and artifacts that they would bring back from their world travels. In the year and a half before La Posada opened in 1930, disasters rippled through the Fred Harvey empire. Ford Harvey died unexpectedly in December 1928 at age 62 from the year’s deadly wave of influenza and his brother Byron
Daniel Lutzick, Tina Mion, and Allan Affeldt at the front entrance of La Posada.
became president. In March 1929, Colter was seriously injured in a taxicab accident in Kansas City; she recovered in a hospital, dictating correspondence, before going back to work, albeit in a wheelchair, onsite. And in the autumn of 1929 came the Great Wall Street Crash. But the railroad was such an institution that it was almost unthinkable that it would not remain the mainstay of American transportation. On May 15, 1930, La Posada opened its 75 guest rooms and two dining rooms to the public, with an assortment of Santa Fe Railway and Harvey company officials in attendance. The sprawling, asymmetrical 78,000-squarefoot building, resembling a compound more than a single
structure, was made of poured reinforced concrete covered with stucco. Standing out from the surrounding desert, the site was edged on the south side with railroad tracks, there to detrain its eager passengers. Gardens and archways beckoned travelers into cozy art-filled but carefully mismatched spaces. Those travelers included celebrities of all sorts — Will Rogers and his wife, Clark Gable and Carole Lombard, Amelia Earhart, Albert Einstein, and Howard Hughes, who had his own regular room. The Winslow Daily Mail touted the new resort: “This transplantation of the Spanish ‘rancho’ brings to our community a tourist hotel second to none in the Southwest ROUTE Magazine 25
[and will] make Winslow the home-like headquarters for all detours to Arizona’s wonderland of vistas.” However, an official at the Santa Fe Railway appeared to have had a less optimistic view, as he sent a telegram to the Fred Harvey company: “Hope income exceeds estimates as much as the building costs did.”
The Interim It seems natural now, but at the time, the huge changes that were underway in America’s travel and tourism sectors were unexpected and enormous; the once all-powerful trains were seeing less ridership and the growing number of automobiles on American highways were becoming king of travel. And the impact of the ‘29 financial crash continued its slow but thorough march of damage through the country’s economy. As the full measure of those factors played out, La Posada — as well as the rest of the Harvey empire — felt it keenly. “The history of La Posada is bookended with the railroad era and the decline of automobile travel and then the renaissance of historic tourism. The building was designed for people traveling by train, that’s why it’s backwards, the front of the building faces the railroad tracks, but by the time it was built, that era was already coming to an end... and after that, in the ‘50s, was the rise of the national highway system,” Affeldt explained. “The railway and the Fred Harvey Company tried to adapt, [but] they were not successful.” La Posada closed its doors after only 27 years, in 1957, as American motorists, still in the post-war boom, were seeking out drive-up motor courts. In 1959, AT&SF auctioned off La Posada’s museum-quality furnishings, and in 1961, the building was gutted and partitioned off for railway offices. While the railway waffled between centralizing and decentralizing its headquarters, the building, in all its tedious sameness, deteriorated.
The Players — Act Two Allan Affeldt was born in Southern California, where his father was in the tile business and subscribed to architecture magazines, which young Affeldt devoured. “When I think about it now, it [Southern California] was so homogenous and so uninspired and I really didn’t know that there was great architecture until I started traveling,” Affeldt said. “And that’s another important thing about La Posada and some of these buildings, they’re usually free and open to the public. I grew up relatively poor and I couldn’t afford to stay in a fancy hotel, but I could go to a church and see beautiful architecture and I could go to a great old hotel and walk around. Great hotels and historic buildings do that for a lot of us. I think that’s an under-appreciated cultural benefit of saving these places.” On leave from his doctoral studies at University of California, Irvine, in 1986, as President of International Peace Walk, Affeldt helped lead the 2,500-mile Great Peace March for nuclear disarmament from California to Washington, D.C., and the Leningrad to Moscow Peace Walk in the summer of 1987. He partnered with San Francisco concert promoter Bill Graham to produce the first rock concert featuring both American and Soviet musicians at Izmailovo Stadium in Moscow on July 4, 1987. By the 26 ROUTE Magazine
time that La Posada came into view in the 1990s, Affeldt had worked in public relations, nonprofit finance, strategic planning, and — fortuitously — responsible architecture and development. Painter Tina Mion, known for her innovative, insightful portraits and her commentaries on politics and human nature, grew up on the East Coast, spending summers in Washington, D.C. As a young adult, she traveled to India, Sri Lanka, and Ukraine, producing art wherever she was. “I think, because I moved so much when I was young, and lived in so many places, that really helped, coming to Winslow and to this huge, empty, abandoned building,” Mion said. “I am always going to find a way to work, no matter where I am.” Several of Mion’s paintings now hang in the Smithsonian National Portrait Gallery in Washington, D.C., and the Mion Museum at La Posada displays many of her works. Daniel Lutzick had been an art student and college friend of Affeldt, and neighbors of a sort. “We were living in something called Irvine Meadows; it was a trailer park where you were supposed to take your RV back to your family after two years and the next kid in line would come back with it. Of course, when you live somewhere that costs you $100 a month, you tend to stay. Some renters had been there from the ‘50s or ‘60s,” Lutzick explained. “Allan was three or four trailers down from me and we loved it. That was by far the most important experience I had in college.” After school, Lutzick worked his way up the corporate ladder at a video arcade company but rejected the lifestyle when he realized that it didn’t represent success to him.
Affeldt’s First Hotel In 1994, Affeldt discovered La Posada on the National Trust for Historic Preservation’s endangered list. At first, his intent was just to help the local preservation group save the hotel from the wrecking ball, but his efforts soon grew into a full-scale project. The property wasn’t even listed for sale, and it took three years to sort out the financial, legal, and environmental issues in order to purchase it— $156,000 for the land; the building was free— from the railway. The restoration necessitated a $12-million-plus plan, and Affeldt put his fundraising skills to work — and his dissertation on hold. “I don’t think that we entered this project thinking of where it would go,” Mion said. “We were really just in the moment, and I think if we had thought too far in the future, it would have paralyzed us. The way we looked at it was, we restored one little corner, one little room, at a time, and we really didn’t think of where it was going to go.” Affeldt and Mion arrived in 1997, as she describes on her website, with “one chair, an old basset hound, and a couple of rabbits.” Mion finds a parallel in their move to Winslow with architect Colter’s fantasy of the Spanish family’s hacienda. “Mary did not want it to be a museum, so we are living out her fantasy as a family moving in.” Prior to Affeldt and Mion’s arrival, Lutzick, done with corporate life, went on ahead to Winslow to get handson. Plenty of projects awaited, including a few homeless folks and the detritus of many years. “We managed to get in and do the work. It wasn’t like Los Angeles where you need an architect, and an electrician. We could begin work immediately and do demolition and cleanup ourselves,”
explained Lutzick. “We were like, ‘Six rooms are ready,’ and Allan said, ‘Let’s open it up.’ I’d be knocking something down with a sledgehammer and someone would walk in and ask, ‘Is this a hotel?’ I’d be like, ‘Oh, yeah, let me show you a room.’” This was late 1997, and amidst the dust, restoring and renting one room at a time became a model for how to restore (and fund) an old hotel. With guests now arriving via Route 66 instead of the railroad, the original back side of the hotel became the front. “We completely redesigned the lobby and now the building is entered from the other side. There was no parking on the Route 66 side of the property, so we had to make a parking lot. There were no gardens on that side of the property, so we had to create those,” Affeldt explained. “We’re doing that now to the original bar inside the building; we outgrew it, so we have a new bar. Just like Mary Colter did, we work with local artists. But it’s a pretty radical re-invention of the building.”
A Community of Artists As Affeldt sought out artisans and craftsmen to create pieces for La Posada, artistic relatives and friends were also drawn to the rapidly expanding “family” of La Posada. Daniel Lutzick’s notable works are the wooden mandala outside the library and the huge butterfly katsina in the lobby. A long narrow verandah facing the train tracks. Snowdrift Art Space, Daniel’s studio, is just down the street. Furniture craftsman (and brother of Tina Mion) Keith “The real challenge with these things is that they’re never Mion made the Monks chairs, garden pergola, and most of permanently saved. They’re only saved as long as you the beds. Verne Lucero, known as a great master of continue to put time and attention and love into them, and New Mexican tinwork, created the La Posada Madonna as long as people continue to discover them,” said Affeldt. plus chandeliers and sconces. The Train Gate, the garden “So even though we’ve done this gentleman’s work of lifting gates, and the wishing well were fashioned by iron artist [La Posada] out of obscurity, the work is never done. There’ll John Suttman, who moved his studio to Winslow. have to be another generation coming along behind us.” “Original pieces started flooding back after people But beneath the activity, one feels an ineffable sense found out we were restoring the building. We have some of calm and peacefulness. The stark beauty of the high wonderful Native American art and Navajo rugs and desert and the blazing orange of the sunsets seep into this kachinas and things like that. They were things from the extraordinary building, as perhaps does the spirit of Fred area,” said Mion. “Eclectic is good, it fits the vision. People Harvey and Mary Colter, all three relics of a bygone time that come, they love that each visit is different, they don’t in America’s vibrant history. Designed as a luxury oasis see the same thing twice.” then, it still serves as such now. It remains La Posada — Once La Posada was up and running, Affeldt moved on to the resting place. Winslow’s local theater, restoring and opening it. Frustrated with the pace of things, he ran for mayor and ended up serving two terms. ROUTE Magazine 27
A Name to Remember
28 ROUTE Magazine
and situated thoughtfully within the landscape. Back in the Midwest, Colter began a teaching career, but fate had another plan: a chance meeting with Minnie Harvey Huckel, Fred Harvey’s daughter, led to her first commission in 1902 at age 33 as interior designer of the Fred Harvey company’s newest project: the Indian Building — a showroom of native art — next to the AT&SF Railway’s magnificent new Alvarado Hotel in Albuquerque. Next, in 1904, she would design an Indian building — the Hopi House — across from the El Tovar Hotel at the Grand Canyon. The success of her work in those two shops led to an offer in 1910 of a permanent job with Fred Harvey, working from their Kansas City headquarters. First, she was assigned the interior design of the new station hotel, El Ortiz, in Lamy, New Mexico. From there, her designs included Hermit’s Rest, the Lookout, Phantom Ranch, and the Desert View Watchtower at the Grand Canyon; the El Navajo Hotel in Gallup, New Mexico; and La Posada in Winslow, Arizona. Inspired by the landscape, the culture, and the people of the region, Colter created an architectural legacy that still resonates today. Throughout her career, Colter elicited mixed reactions from people, some referring to her as single-minded, a perfectionist, and demanding. Biographer Virginia Gratton described her as a “chain-smoking small woman with piercing violet eyes and unkept hair.” Southwestern author Frank Waters referred to her as having “an Irish wit, a tender heart, and a caustic tongue.” Whatever the impression Colter conveyed, one thing was for certain — her work was her passion and her life. However, as the popularity of automobile travel signaled the end of the great railroad travel era, she witnessed the wane of several of her masterpiece hotels. “There is such a thing as living too long,” she was quoted in reaction to La Posada’s closing. Retired to Santa Fe, New Mexico, in 1948, she died ten years later at the age of 89. She had worked for the Fred Harvey Company for 46 years. A woman with a passion for her life’s work, Mary Colter became one of America’s earliest and most formidable architects. Her legacy has continued to inspire others across generations, and the preservation of much of her work is a lasting gift to those who venture into the Southwest.
Illustration by Chandler O’Leary.
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f
he American Southwest is known for its arid desert, expansive landscape, the art and culture of its Mexican and Native American inhabitants, and the romantically designed and decorated buildings that dot its towns. But behind these creations stood a woman whose name still rings revered in circles, today. Mary Colter, one of America’s first female architects, is now long gone, but her vision and genius still stand the test of time. By the early decades of the 20th Century, the Atchison, Topeka and Santa Fe Railway (ATSF) was bringing Easterners by the trainload to the Southwest, where entrepreneur, visionary, and restaurateur Fred Harvey had built a railroad hospitality empire based on providing fresh, accessible good food for the passengers made possible by the refrigerated cars of the ATSF, at trackside venues. With one “Harvey House” at a time, the innovative Fred Harvey expanded his operation steadily. As the mystery and romance of the Southwest attracted more and more travelers, the ATSF and the Harvey company began to build larger and more deluxe establishments, incorporating food, lodging, and “detours” to escort their visitors via cars to nearby attractions. Thus began the iconic era of the legendary Fred Harvey railroad hotels. As pioneering architect Mary Colter stepped in to create a Southwestern travel and tourism triumvirate with ATSF and Fred Harvey, it was Colter’s touch that bestowed the great hotels with the mystique of the American Southwest. Born Mary Elizabeth Jane Colter in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania, in 1869 to Irish immigrants William and Rebecca Colter, her early childhood likely fostered a sense of exploration as the family traversed the country before finally settling in Saint Paul, Minnesota. As a child, she was given a gift of Sioux artwork, beginning her love of Native American design. She would later be quoted as saying, “I have always longed to carry out the true Indian idea, to plan a hotel strictly Indian, with none of the conventional modern motifs.” After her father passed away in 1886, Colter convinced her mother and sister to move to San Francisco with her, where she apprenticed to a local architect and attended the California School of Design. She graduated in 1891 equipped to teach art, but became grounded in the California school of thought to turn to a new style of building, reminiscent of Spanish missions
Experience outdoor fun, incredible attractions, historic Route 66, and so much more. www.experiencewilliams.com ROUTE Magazine 29
The BLUES BROTHERS
O
ne Saturday night in 1978, Dan Aykroyd and John Belushi took the Saturday Night Live stage with guest guitarist Arlen Roth and others on the show, all wearing matching outfits — dark suits, fedoras, and sunglasses — that would later become the trademark look of the Blues Brothers. Roth had taught Belushi the lyrics of the song “Rocket 88,” and the performance was simply a part of that evening’s comedy, entertaining all who watched SNL that night. But it was a spark that would flame into a legend. Just a couple years later, after releasing an album and a feature film, the Blues Brothers’ name, style, and antics had become known worldwide. As entertainers John Belushi and Dan Aykroyd and as the Blues Brothers, “Joliet” Jake and Elwood, they are forever tied to Chicago, to Joliet, and to Illinois Route 66. Some say that timing is everything, but a touch of serendipity makes magic happen that much faster. Aykroyd and Belushi first met through The Second City Chicago-Toronto comedy club network in about 1973. But the magic really began to happen when they were both cast as members of the Not Ready for Prime Time Players on Saturday Night Live, and they really hit it off. The SNL cast and guests got into the habit of hanging out after show tapings at Aykroyd’s club, the Blues Bar, where Aykroyd had the opportunity to turn Belushi on to, well, blues. They listened to Sam and Dave records on the jukebox and began stocking instruments at the club for anyone who wanted to jam. Sitting at the club’s bar with Ron Gwynne, Aykroyd began writing a backstory for the new blues duo — the beginnings of a movie script. With Belushi successfully turned on to blues music, the duo began singing with local blues bands. It was SNL band leader Howard Shore that suggested the name, “The Blues Brothers.” Aykroyd was quoted as saying that “the hats came from blues legend John Lee Hooker” and that the Blue Brothers act borrowed quite a bit from their often-listened-to duo Sam and Dave. Their high-energy antic-filled act was born. What started as a joke, but also as a tribute to blues music and artists, snowballed as Aykroyd and Belushi assembled a talented band full of seasoned musicians. Their debut album, Briefcase Full of Blues, was released in 1978 and went double-platinum, selling over 2.8 million 30 ROUTE Magazine
copies and producing two hit singles, “Rubber Biscuit” and “Soul Man.” Aykroyd’s backstory scribbles turned into a self-titled musical comedy film, released in 1980 and now a cult favorite. The movie takes audiences on the journey of a paroled convict (Belushi as “Joliet” Jake) and his blood brother (Aykroyd as Elwood) “on a mission from God” to save the orphanage that they grew up in. The feature film developed their antic-filled characters and cemented a larger audience as they romped through their alter egos of “Joliet” Jake and Elwood in rollicking style. Today, the familiar faces of “Joliet” Jake and Elwood Blues — both named after cities in northern Illinois — can be found in the “City of Steel and Stone.” Joliet is a destination that has wisely made use of its Blues Brothers connection: The Joliet Correctional Center — which housed Belushi (“Joliet” Jake) in the movie — was closed in 2002 and now stands as a frequented museum, offering visitors an intimate look at what was one of America’s most intimidating prisons. And if that were not enough, just down the road it is hard to miss the Rich and Creamy ice cream stand. It is not only home to delicious ice cream, but to dancing statues of Jake and Elwood Blues sporting their iconic black suits and fedoras. Another set of statues of the iconic pair kick back in the Route 66 welcome center lobby at the Joliet Area History Museum. And further down the road in Braidwood, the Polk-A-Dot Drive In has decorated their iconic eatery with life-size statues, including the Brothers. Route 66 in Illinois knows a good thing when it sees it. Before The Blues Brothers, Joliet was, to many, just a passing town on Route 66, with little to pull motorists off the highway. However, the movie brought life back to the town and its historic prison. The Joliet Area History Museum now offers a welcoming start to a traveler’s experience, including sight-seeing tours at the Old Joliet Prison — a clear sign that the town has invested more in its Mother Road heritage. The Blues Brothers started as a comedy act but brought an old Route 66 town together and created a legend not soon forgotten. As “Joliet” Jake said, “We have a full tank of gas, half a pack of cigarettes, it’s dark, and we’re wearing sunglasses.” Time to hit the road.
DEVILS ELBOW, MO
Today 10:18 AM
“Taking off now. Have some stops to make!”
CLEAR YOUR SCHEDULE. GET TO PULASKI COUNTY, MO!
Ready for a road trip of breathtaking twists and turns that will take you back in time? Take your pick of drives down Route 66, through historic Fort Leonard Wood, and along the Frisco Railroad line. Then, fill up at unique (and oh-so-tasty) diners before heading off to uncover even more rare finds at countless antique shops. So, book your stay and get ready to play on a road you’ll always remember. Check out our NEW Great American Road Trip Itinerary and plan your Mother Road adventure at visitpulaskicounty.org/roadtrip. ROUTE Magazine 31
DINO DA By Richard Ratay Opening photograph by Lee Russell 32 ROUTE Magazine
AYS ROUTE Magazine 33
T
he ad men were stuck. Tasked with coming up with a splashy marketing idea to promote a new line of automobile lubricants, they stared blankly at each other. What would people find remotely interesting about petroleum products, they wondered? Oil was slippery. Messy. Mostly, it was noticed only when it wasn’t there—when metal parts began grinding or engines seized. The writers kept going. Where did crude oil come from anyway? Deep underground. Usually found in vast pools. Ancient oceans, really. Formed millions of years ago. Way back before humans. Back in the days of… dinosaurs! BAM! Lightning had struck. The creative team went to work. They mocked up ads, labels, placards, posters. Each featured one of a dozen different dinosaurs—all promoting the products of Sinclair Motor Oils. The campaign was a sensation. People loved the striking illustrations of the ancient reptiles. For whatever reason, they responded to one in particular—the brontosaurus. Recognizing this, Sinclair Oil executives focused their future promotions on the hulking long-necked beast. They even gave their Mesozoic megastar a name— “Dino” (pronounced DYE-no)—and registered him as a trademark in 1932. Depicted realistically, as a smiling cartoon, or as a simple green silhouette in the company logo, Dino would go on to become one of the most beloved icons of American road travel. And Sinclair would grow into one of the most recognized names along the nation’s highways. But how did it all begin? And how did Sinclair rise to such lofty status? Let’s drill down a little deeper.
Harry Hits the Jackpot If Harry Ford Sinclair had simply listened to his father, that would have been the end of it. The elder Sinclair had a simple plan for his son—become a pharmacist, take over the family drugstore, start a family of his own, and embrace a quiet existence in Independence, Kansas. But Harry’s ambitions were far too big for his small town—or for such an ordinary life. He wanted more. Despite his yearnings, young Harry gave his father’s plan a try. In 1897, he graduated from pharmacy school and returned home to assume ownership of the family business. But Harry couldn’t fight his own nature. Driven by the soaring popularity of newfangled contraptions called “automobiles,” America was in the middle of an oil boom—and Harry happened to live right in the heart of oil country. Hoping to strike it rich, he went all in on a chancy drilling scheme—and promptly lost everything, including his father’s drugstore. But Harry was far from done with the oil business. He found work selling lumber to construct oil derricks, while also buying and selling oil leases—agreements allowing drilling on private property—on the side. Harry learned he had a knack for picking winners—and so did a host of wealthy backers, 34 ROUTE Magazine
including Chicago meatpacker J. M. Cudahy, and Prairie Oil Company president James F. O’Neill. The investors rolled over their profits from one of Harry’s lucrative ventures to the next, building fortunes for all. “Harry fell into the industry at the right time, and he was smart,” said petroleum industry historian Wayne Henderson. “He got good at the game—and won.” In 1905, Harry hit his biggest jackpot when he purchased a stake in a drilling operation in northeast Oklahoma. The “Glenn Pool” turned out to be a historic producer, paying out more money than the California gold rush and the Colorado silver rush combined. Almost overnight, Harry became a millionaire. By 1907, at age 31, he was the richest man in Kansas.
The Road to the Top For Harry, the sudden windfall was simply seed money. In 1909, he established Commercial National Bank in Tulsa, Oklahoma, for the express purpose of serving the country’s leading oil producers. Among the bank’s first clients were Prairie Gas and Oil, a subsidiary of J.D. Rockefeller’s Standard Oil, and Texaco. Harry made millions. What’s more, the bank helped establish Tulsa as “The Oil Capital of the World.” Still, it would be years before Harry established Sinclair Oil. That time would finally come in 1916, when Harry combined several smaller operations into a single company. As always, his timing was masterful. Europe was at war, spurring long-term demand for fuel for fighting abroad. Meanwhile, here at home, Americans were clamoring to buy Henry Ford’s affordable Model T. The future of fossil fuels was assured. However, the industry also faced a temporary issue—oil was being overproduced. As oil prices plummeted, smaller cash-strapped operations went bust. Harry aggressively snapped up as many as he could. “Harry had resources, pipelines, access to refineries, transportation,” explained Henderson. “He was able to put all the pieces together.” During this period, Sinclair also became a familiar and trusted name for American motorists. In 1922, Sinclair introduced the first modern service station. Beyond dispensing gasoline and oil, Sinclair stations offered oil changes, greasing, tire repairs, washes, free air and minor mechanical repairs. They also sold tires, batteries, and other automotive necessities. “The stations were clean and bright, and a uniformed attendant would pump your gas, then check your oil and clean the windows,” said Robert Tate, a retired historian of the Automobile History Collection. “Motorists never had to get out of their cars.” If they did, it was likely to take advantage of another Sinclair innovation, one most appreciated by traveling families—the first service station restrooms offered for customers. However, Sinclair would hit a pothole on its journey to the top. In 1921, Harry was implicated in the infamous Teapot Dome Scandal, in which several major oil companies were accused of bribing government officials to win no-bid contracts. Although Harry was acquitted of the bribery charge, he was convicted of lesser offenses. In 1929, he served six months in the House of Detention in Washington, D.C.
Sinclair Oil station in Nevada.
“Harry emerged from confinement in classic Harry fashion,” noted Steve Gerkin, author of the The Hidden History of Tulsa. “He strutted down the steps of the federal detention center sporting an expensive suit, fedora, and his signature swagger, shouting to the mob of reporters, ‘I cannot be contrite for sins I did not commit. I was railroaded!’” Almost immediately following his release, Harry was confronted with another challenge—the Great Depression. Like most companies, Sinclair was hit hard by the tumultuous times. But Harry’s skillful maneuvering set his company up for success, even as other oil producers faltered. As he’d done years before, Harry seized the opportunity to buy still more troubled operations. In 1932, he even acquired Rockefeller’s Prairie Oil and Gas company—and with it, the nation’s largest pipeline system. Sinclair had become a major force in the American petroleum industry. Next, the company was ready to take its place on the world’s stage.
Dino Becomes a Big Draw With Chicago set to host the World’s Fair in 1933, Sinclair had the chance to introduce itself to visitors from around the planet, an opportunity the company took full advantage of. It also had the perfect gimmick—the company’s already successful dinosaur concept was tailor-made for making a big impression. Sinclair decided to sponsor a large exhibit entirely dedicated to the enthralling giants of the prehistoric past. The centerpiece was a full-sized, two-ton replica of a brontosaurus. Designed by Hollywood effects artist P.G. Alen, the monstrous model was even capable of raising and lowering its head to “chew” the surrounding vegetation. “Fairgoers loved these types of immersive exhibits,” said Robert Rydell, author of several books about the history of the World’s Fair. “Sinclair found a very effective way to teach
people about the origins and processing of fossil fuels, while also promoting its products.” To capitalize on the exhibit’s popularity, Sinclair produced rubber miniatures of Dino the Brontosaurus for distribution at its service stations. By 1959, Dino had become so tied to Sinclair, that the company incorporated the gentle giant into its logo. In 1964, when the World’s Fair returned to America— this time to New York—Sinclair hoped to build on its earlier success with an even more elaborate display. The company commissioned the creation of nine different lifesized animatronic dinosaurs, a project requiring a team of paleontologists, engineers, and robotics experts. It took three years to assemble. Once completed, the beguiling beasts were transported to Sinclair’s exhibit at the Fair—dubbed “Dinoland”—on the deck of a giant barge which was floated 125 miles down the Hudson River and around Manhattan, thrilling an awestruck public. A year earlier, a 60-foot vinyl inflatable Dino had already stalked the streets of New York in Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade. Dino would remain a highlight of the event until being retired in 1977. During this period, pony-sized fiberglass Dinos began popping up at Sinclair service stations everywhere, offering traveling families fun, exciting photo ops. “Dino cemented Sinclair’s place in history,” said Henderson. “He’s memorable. Likable. I still give my own grandkids little inflatable Dinos as gifts.” By all appearances, Dino and Sinclair seemed to have conquered America.
The End of an Era Sadly, Harry Sinclair wouldn’t live to see his company’s heydays of the 1960s. After relinquishing control of Sinclair in 1949, Harry retired to his palatial home in Pasadena, California, where he passed away seven years later. He was 80 years old. ROUTE Magazine 35
Harry Sinclair.
“For me, Harry Sinclair was one of those incredibly successful businessmen who always looked for the next mountain to conquer,” noted Gerkin. “Despite all that he accomplished, I bet he felt unsatisfied that he ran out of time to scale all of the peaks on his horizon.” Though Harry and wife Elizabeth had two children, Virginia and Harry Jr., neither wished to follow in their father’s footsteps. After declining a purchase offer from a suitor outside the oil industry, Sinclair reached out to the Atlantic Richfield Company (ARCO). In 1969, the two companies came together in what was at the time the largest merger in the history of the oil industry. However, there was a catch. For the deal to go through, the U.S. Justice Department required the newly formed version of ARCO to sell off substantial assets. These included all the company’s service stations located west of the Mississippi River—and its rights to the name “Sinclair Oil Corporation.” As a result, the Sinclair brand would live on, but under new ownership and only west of the Mississippi—including along the celebrated Route 66. Sinclair service stations in the eastern United States would be re-branded as ARCO and other brands. As had happened with the real dinosaurs, Dino and the Sinclair name disappeared almost overnight in nearly half the country.
Sinclair Adds to its Holdings For a brief period, Sinclair lumbered along under the direction of the Pan American Sulfur Company (PASCO). But in 1976, the company would change hands once again. It would seem like history was repeating itself. The new owner was a man every bit Harry’s equal in terms of vision and business savvy. And just like Harry, his story was one of self-made success. Robert “Earl” Holding learned the value of hard work early on. When his parents lost everything in the stock market crash of 1929, young Earl helped his family survive the ensuing Depression years by doing odd jobs for 15 cents an hour. After 36 ROUTE Magazine
serving in World War II, Holding returned home to Salt Lake City and married his college sweetheart, Carol. Together, the young couple scraped together enough money to purchase a stake in a service station in Little America, Wyoming, which Earl also managed. Rolling up his sleeves, Holding turned one service station into several. Soon, the “Little America” chain of service stations was among the most successful in the nation. It also became Sinclair Oil’s biggest customer. Holding had long kept an eye on Sinclair. He’d even attempted to buy the company when the ARCO deal was being negotiated. When Sinclair became available again in 1976, Holding jumped at his chance. It wasn’t the best of timing. America was in the middle of an oil crisis. The economy was on the rocks. Refinery workers across the industry were unhappy. Not long after Holding assumed control, they’d walk out on strike. As always, Holding got right down to work. In 1980, he personally met with union leadership to negotiate a fair deal. Employees came away from the talks so impressed with Holding’s integrity, they even agreed to de-unionize. Next, in a move that would have made Harry Sinclair proud, Holding boldly purchased a major refinery in Tulsa, Oklahoma, that had closed amid the turmoil. Holding also refocused Sinclair on finding new sources of natural gas and crude oil, not only to supply the company’s own refineries, but to sell at a profit. It proved to be a prescient strategy. Along the way, Holding earned the respect of the industry—and those who worked for him. “He had very high expectations,” recalled Mark Peterson, Sinclair Vice President of Transportation. “But at the end of the day, you wanted to come back and work for him some more.” By all accounts, Holding treated his employees like family. In a way, they were. Under Holding’s 30-year tenure, Sinclair grew into one of America’s largest family-owned businesses, with assets including multiple hospitality properties, a luxury ski resort, and even a cattle ranch. Holding would pass away in 2013 at age 86 in Salt Lake City, where Sinclair maintains its headquarters.
The Legacy Lives On Harry Sinclair built his company into a phenomenon. Earl Holding guided Sinclair through its most challenging times, making sure its legacy would endure. Indeed, Sinclair and Dino still stand tall among the legends of American road travel. Animation studio PIXAR paid homage to them both in Toy Story and later in its popular Cars movies, which feature characters from the fictional “Dinoco” oil company—a thinly disguised parody of Sinclair. Vintage Sinclair collectibles, especially those featuring dinosaurs, remain favorites of collectors of Americana, and Route 66 memorabilia. More poignantly, in 2015 Dino made his triumphant return to the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade, ushering in the festivities to celebrate Sinclair’s centennial anniversary the following year. Today, Sinclair continues to offer an inviting presence along America’s highways—at least those that run west of the Mississippi. Road-weary travelers in need of a fill-up or snack can still pull over at any of 1,600 Sinclair-branded stations. And somewhere near the entrance to each one, a proud Dino still waits to greet guests on every visit.
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 37
A
t 6,192 square miles, Brewster County, Texas is the largest county by size, but also the most desolate, in the state. The towns are small, the roads dusty and deserted, and the desert seemingly endless. But it’s here, of all places, that one of those remote towns was able to bring itself into the limelight. Marathon, Texas, was originally a ranching town that sat along the Galveston, Harrisburg, and San Antonio railroad. Today, it’s home to about 500 people and the darkest night skies in the lower 48 states. The only major road connecting those in Marathon to any other place is Route 90, the barren highway stretching from Texas to Florida, often called the Route 66 of the South. Along this route, about halfway between Marathon and the county seat of Alpine, sat a forlorn little cinderblock building, a railway switching station from the days of the railroad. It blended in with the barren landscape surrounding it, barely interrupting the rugged beauty of the Glass Mountains in the distance. However, one day the little building got a makeover that changed the area’s dynamic forever. One night in 2016, someone went to the tiny cinderblock building and decked it out with the iconic red bullseye logo of the mega store, Target. From then on, that once small nondescript building became known as the world’s smallest Target. “It was a joke that went viral,” said Robert Alvarez, the executive director of the Brewster County Tourism Board. “We all fell in love with it. When it started gaining traction on social media, people from out of town would start calling us, asking questions about it.” Visitors from all around the country would make their way into the middle of nowhere in Texas to take pictures of the little building to post on their social media, often with cheeky captions attached. Many visitors would take the opportunity to help clean up the little abandoned station. One family would make a regular trip to visit and spend an afternoon picnicking there. While the artist of the tiny Target is unknown, and no one has ever come forward to claim its creation, it’s 38 ROUTE Magazine
commonly accepted that it was intended to be a response to nearby Prada Marfa — an equally quirky and unexpected art installation that rises out of the endless Texas desert as a mini-Prada store. Located about forty miles outside of the town of Marfa, Texas, the installation has gained worldwide attention, and perhaps gave birth to the tiny Target. “From the tourism side, the Target was like it was giving a thumbs up to Marathon,” Alvarez said. “We’re more Target people than Prada people. We embraced the heck out of it because it gave us attention like what the Prada does, but it’s more representative of the town and the area. We don’t need the luxury stuff. Target’s more our speed.” However, as the joke got bigger, to the point that someone even brought a Target shopping cart to sit somewhat ominously outside the building, the landowner began to worry about the safety of the many visitors. In December of 2020, he had the building bulldozed. Nothing remains of the building but a pile of bricks on the side of the road, some still painted a bright Target red. “There were just too many risks for him,” said Alvarez. “There were bricks missing and beehives inside, and it was just becoming too dangerous as more people were coming to visit. He didn’t want to take on the responsibility if someone got hurt, and thought it was best just to destroy it.” In response, the Brewster County Tourism Board expressed interest in leasing the land from the owner, but sadly, the structure was destroyed before any agreement could be formed. Partnership would have made the building a true local tourist destination, especially as it sat along old Route 90. Despite the loss of such a beloved inside joke, the town of Marathon hasn’t let the tiny Target die. Soon after the demolition of the Target, the shopping cart appeared in front of the Marathon Library with a note reading: “May the only Target in 100 mi. R.I.P”. Sometimes, for towns big and small, the biggest attraction is the joy that comes from something small.
Image by Andrea Ament.
THE TINIEST TA RGET
Are you ready to get your kicks on Route 66? Join us for the 28th Annual Route 66 Summerfest June 3 & 4! But summer fun doesn’t stop there, join us for car shows, festivals, concerts and more! See what you’re missing at VisitRolla.com!
visitrolla.com Rolla Area Chamber of Commerce & Visitor Center 573-364-3577
“In telling the story of his African family’s journey on Route 66, Brennen Matthews has made an important contribution to the legacy of the highway. He offers both a new voice and a new look at the Mother Road.” —from the foreword by Michael Wallis, New York Times bestselling author of Route 66: The Mother Road
“Hop in and buckle up. Brennen Matthews’s Miles to Go is a ride you won’t soon forget.” —Richard Ratay, author of Don’t Make Me Pull Over! An Informal History of the Family Road Trip
“Miles to Go awakens fond memories of my many road trips by car and Greyhound bus along the ‘Mother Road,’ Route 66!” —Martin Sheen
“In Miles to Go, we don’t just drive the highway looking out the window. We stop, interact with people, and learn things we were not expecting. . . . This Route 66 journey doesn’t just immerse us in the sights, sounds, and experiences of the road. As guests on the journey, we’re encouraged to think about what it means to live in America and be an American.” —Bill Thomas, chairman of the Route 66 Road Ahead Partnership
Miles to Go is the story of a family from Africa in search of authentic America along the country’s most famous highway, Route 66. Traveling the scenic byway from Illinois to California, they come across a fascinating assortment of historical landmarks, partake in quirky roadside attractions, and meet more than a few colorful characters. Brennen Matthews, along with his wife and their son, come face-to-face with real America in all of its strange beauty and complicated history as the family explores what many consider to be the pulse of a nation. Their unique perspective on the Main Street of America develops into a true appreciation for what makes America so special. By joining Matthews and his family on their cross-country adventure, readers not only experience firsthand the sights and sounds of the road, but they are also given the opportunity to reflect on American culture and its varied landscapes. Miles to Go is not just a travel story but a tale of hopes, ambitions, and struggles. It is the record of an America as it once was and one that, in some places, still persists.
Experience America and Route 66 through a lens never seen before. VISIT AMAZON.COM AND PRE-ORDER A COPY OF MILES TO GO NOW AND JOIN BRENNEN MATTHEWS AND HIS FAMILY AS THEY SET OUT TO DISCOVER AMERICA ALONG HISTORIC ROUTE 66 UNIVERSITY OF NEW MEXICO PRESS 40 ROUTE Magazine
ROUTE Magazine 41
42 ROUTE Magazine
A CONVERSATION WITH
Richard Marx By Brennen Matthews
Photographs by Nick Spanos
ROUTE Magazine 43
I
was 14 when I first fell in love. It was 1988, and the long school holidays had just begun. The freedom of unstructured days and endless summer nights was overwhelming. My parents were going through a divorce at the time which created a new angst and confusion that threatened to overshadow the sense of fun and reckless abandonment that long days and warm nights bring. Luckily, I had some good friends that I leaned on, and one in particular, a beautiful red-haired girl who had unexpectedly entered into my life. We ended up spending almost every day of that summer together. It was magical. The music was fabulous in 1988. Tracy Chapman, Def Leppard, Eric Carmen, Breathe, and of course, Richard Marx, dominated the radio, intensifying everything. Fast forward many years later, and while the girl has long disappeared from my life, every time I remember that summer, it is the music that resonates the most. It created the tapestry on which my adolescence was weaved during that turbulent period. “Endless Summer Nights,” “Hold on to the Nights,” “Should have Known Better”… these unforgettable tracks became the musical soundtrack of that season for me and everyone that I knew back then. However, Richard Marx, unlike so many others from that marvelous decade, did not disappear into the annals of great music, no. Marx has continued to release hit record after hit record over the years and has landed himself 14 number one singles and sold well over 30 million albums. He has been nominated for five Grammy awards and written hit songs for a wide variety of artists from Kenny Rogers and Keith Urban to N’Sync. Marx is the only male artist in history to have his first seven singles reach the top five of the Billboard music charts. There is longevity in his music. Growing up is an exciting, confusing time, but every generation is influenced by one thing, perhaps more than any other, and that is the music. In this conversation with the iconic Richard Marx, we are blessed to take a trip back in time and to get to know an artist whose songs continue to be a vital part of many of our life stories.
You grew up in a musical home. Your dad was a jazz pianist and composer, and your mom was a singer. Do you think that you were destined for a career in music? There’s no way to know, obviously, whether it was nature or nurture. I definitely know that while it’s not consistent necessarily, or 100%, there’s a likelihood that if two parents have a particular talent, there’s a good chance that they might pass some of that off onto at least one of their spawn. I was their only child, so it’s interesting that I got my mother’s voice and my father’s melody, business, and composition sense. Neither of them wrote lyrics, interestingly, but my mother was a good writer, and a voracious reader, so I think that I definitely got genetic stuff from them for sure. But I think that what sealed the deal was growing up in a house where not only was there a tremendous love of music — music was the most important thing to all three of us, individually and collectively — but to grow up in a house where your parents are making music, creating music. Now, mind you, not making records or making songs, but making art that happens to be something, art to sell a product. Before he went into the jingle business my father was a jazz pianist. And then when he ventured into the… he just found that he had this knack for coming up with catchy melodies, so he went with it, and 44 ROUTE Magazine
then he embraced pop music and all music. So, I grew up in a circumstance where my parents exposed me to not only the music of the day that they thought I would get off on and that they loved, but the music that they were making.
Do you remember how old you were when you wrote your first song? I think I was 14.
Ballad or a rock song? Ballad. I was in love with Lynne Harwich, but I couldn’t get her attention. I used to watch Elvis movies anytime that they were on. And the theme was, Elvis meets girl, girl’s not interested in Elvis until Elvis sings her a song, then she falls madly in love with Elvis. So, I’m thinking, “That’s what I gotta do!” It didn’t work out for me that way, though. But it did start the process of writing a song to convey something to a specific person, even though I failed to go out with her. It lit the fuse. There was something about having accomplished that. I remember at 14, the feeling of, a minute ago there was nothing, and now there’s something. It was mystifying to me and magical.
By the time you were in high school, you had a collection of songs you had written and a demo tape that got into the hands of Lionel Richie. How did that happen? I had probably written eight or ten songs, but four songs that I thought were worth recording, and my father agreed. Over the years of his success in the jingle business, he had built his own studio in Chicago, in the city. And it was actually designed by his first house engineer who was Bruce Swedien, who became Quincy Jones’ engineer. Bruce recorded and mixed “Thriller” among hundreds of other records. And Bruce originally started in Chicago with my dad. So, there was a pool of musicians who played on all the jingles… they weren’t record caliber, but they were good. So, my father said to me, “You can go in and use my studio, but you’re going to have to pay the musicians out of your own allowance money.”
Did you have that money? I had just enough, just enough. I think that these guys cut me a little bit of a deal, so, if the standard, you know, union scale was $400 an hour, they probably charged me $200 an hour, just because I was a kid, and they were being nice. But I had to pay the musicians, and I had to make the best use of the time, because I remember my dad said, “You want to record four songs? I’ll give you three hours in the studio, that’s it.” Luckily, the engineer was really knowledgeable and helpful, and we scrambled our way through it, and we had four decent demos of these songs. I was very proud of it, my dad and my mom were very supportive of it, too. So, I sent it out to some record companies, got nothing; one or two letters came back, literally like, “We’re not interested in your submission at this time.” But then — I’m starting my senior year now — my best friend, prior a couple of years, was a year older than me, so he was a freshman in college. His roommate in Atlanta, at Emory University, was a guy who grew up with a guy who became a photographer, moved to LA, and was working with the
Commodores. So, my friend’s friend said, “I’ll ask my friend if he can play Richard’s tape for Lionel Richie.”
That’s insane. Three weeks later my parent’s phone rings and it’s Lionel Richie asking for me. It was Lionel Richie on the phone! He must have talked to me for half an hour. He was so gracious and so nice and complimentary. He was like, “These are your first four songs? Man, you should have heard my first four songs! You’re way ahead of where I was. What’s your plan?” I said, “Well, I’m just starting my senior year and, you know, I’m obviously thinking about going to college.” And he goes, “Well, depends on what you want to do, like, I don’t want your parents to come and hunt me down and kill me but, you know, you’ve got the goods man, you got your voice.” And he’s like, “If these are your first four songs, you totally understand structure and hooks... I don’t know man; you might want to try it out here.” Meaning LA. And it was like wind beneath wings, it was such a wonderful gift that he gave to this complete stranger. It says everything that you need to know about Lionel Richie, what kind of person he is, cause at this time he was like, next to Michael Jackson, probably the biggest star in the music business.
That’s crazy. What was your plan after that call? I went to my parents and fortunately they said, “You know what, you have time to go to college if something doesn’t work out, you’re 18.” As soon as I graduated from high school, my dad and I flew to LA, and found me an apartment. So, this is almost ten months later. Now Lionel’s left the Commodores, he’s starting his first solo album, he invites me and my dad to the studio. We get to the studio and he’s working on this song called, “You Are,” which became a huge hit from his first album. And when… you gotta question the timing, is there any such thing as coincidence? The day that I go and meet Lionel Richie, what’s he working on? Background vocals. It’s him and two other singers, and they’re working, and my dad and I overhear them, they’ve been working on this song for two days. I could see that Lionel was getting a little frustrated, but he was very gracious to me and my dad, and we’re just sitting in the control room, watching. And all of a sudden, Lionel looks through the glass and points to me and says, “Come here.” I got up and went in and he says, “You’ve been listening, right?” And I said, “Yeah.” And he goes, “So you know the part I’m singing?” And I said, “Yeah.” He goes, “Okay, you sing my part, and you, you switch parts with her, and let’s try this.” He goes into the control room, they roll the tape, we sing a chorus, and he hits the talkback and says, “That’s the sound.” And I had a job. He said, “Come back tomorrow, I got another one for you to sing on.” And then he gave me the greatest gift, which was, like after that second or third day, he said, “Look, I don’t necessarily have any more work for you on this, but you’re welcome to be here. If I’m in this room, you’re welcome to be in this room.”
To learn. Yeah! And from the minute that he gave me that gift, if he was in that studio, I was there. I watched him work with
horn players, I watched him work with orchestra, I watched him interact with other musicians. It was like going to hit record college. Then he recommended me to his buddy Kenny Rogers, who hired me as a background singer, which led to me writing songs for Kenny Rogers. This is a year later, I’m 19, and I’m off, I’m out of the gate. My first songs are cut by Kenny Rogers! But it all traces back to Lionel Richie making that phone call.
What was that like for you as a young guy? Were you starstruck? I was starstruck for sure, but I feel like I kind of knew instinctively how to, as someone told me back then, they said, “You know how to hang.” So, I would be in a room with superstars, but to me, I was probably even more impressed with the musicians [playing] on the sessions. I kind of knew ROUTE Magazine 45
when to be quiet, and when to tell a joke that would lighten everything up for everybody. I got caught up in… you’re 18 or 19 years old, and now you start going, “Yeah, my buddy Lionel Richie and I went to lunch the other day,” and, “Yeah, I’m working with Kenny Rogers.” I think that it’s a rare person who doesn’t get caught up in that a little bit. So, some of my friends would be like, “Dude, you’re turning into a total douche. Don’t do that.” But it was a heady time. It was exciting. I remember once doing a session with Kenny Rogers at his studio called Lion Share, and in one studio down the hallway was Rod Stewart and down another hallway was David Lee Roth, and passing these guys in the hallway, and just being part of that scene. Being able to work within the industry as a songwriter, as a musician, as a background singer, I wouldn’t trade it. It was really fun and exciting, going studio to studio.
Your first record finally came out in 1987. Did you just keep writing songs and doing back up singing before a label finally said, “Hey, this guy could be a solo artist?” No, every round of new demo tapes would get rejected. There was a point where I started to think, “This may be just not in the cards for me.” To be an artist. But at that point, I knew I could make a living in the music business, that I could become a songwriter, producer. I was frustrated, but I was still enjoying the work. I was enjoying being part of the business. I met a guy in early 1986 named Bobby Colomby, who was the drummer in Blood, Sweat & Tears, and became a record executive. I met him at a charity event or something socially, and we just hit it off. He’s a lot older than me, but we liked each other, we had the same sense of humor. We became pals and I started playing him my music and he was like, “You’re really good man, like, really good.” And he said, “I can see why some of these major labels don’t get it, cause they’re just, these guys that make these decisions are just clueless.” But he said, “I know a guy named Bruce Lundvall, he’s the President of Blue Note.” And he was launching a pop version of it called Manhattan Records. Bobby was pals with Bruce Lundvall and said, “I’m setting up a meeting at my house.” Bruce lived in New York, but he said, “Bruce is going to be in LA in a couple of weeks, he’s gonna come over to my house, you’re gonna come over to my house, and we’re gonna see if we can get him to sign you.” So, the whole plan is, and Bobby had this incredible music room where everything sounded amazing, right? I got my demo tape; I got my four killer songs. The first song on the demo tape was “Should’ve Known Better,” which became a top five single for me, which was rejected by every label. The second song on the tape? “Endless Summer Nights.” Number two single, rejected by every label. So, I’m like, I’m pumped, but I’m also fearful, because I’m thinking, “Okay, I’m gonna play my demo. This isn’t some A&R guy; this is the head of the label. If he rejects me, I’m not gonna have this kind of opportunity again. I’ll probably just give up and I’ll just be a writer and producer.” Right? I remember going that night to Bobby’s house and driving around the block ten times, I was so nervous. I go inside, Bruce Lundvall’s immediately gracious, he was a big fan of my dad’s, because he was a jazz guy, so he was like, “Dude, I saw your dad play, I’ve seen your dad play in clubs back in the day. He was amazing.” So, we’re sitting and we’re about to go up to Bobby’s music room to listen to my demo. Bobby says, 46 ROUTE Magazine
“You know, there is a beautiful piano right here. Richard, why don’t you just play him a couple of songs?” I’m looking, like, I had no performing experience by the way, I look at him like, “What the f*ck are you doing? I can’t play “Don’t Mean Nothing” or “Should’ve Known Better” on the piano! They’re rock songs! What are you doing?” Bruce says, “Yeah, I’d love to hear it.” Somehow, I go over, and I muddle my way through “Should’ve Known Better” and “Endless Summer Nights” and Bruce is like, “Wow, great voice!” And now my hands are shaking. And then Bobby says, “Alright, that’s enough, let’s go upstairs.” And then he plays him the demo. And at the end of the four songs, Bruce Lundvall turned to me, and he said, “You should be making records, and you should be making records for me.”
I don’t think any artist could even dream that their first album would hit as hard as yours did. I mean, four songs on one album are in the top three, two of them go number one, you sell millions of copies. You suddenly start playing arenas. What was it like hearing yourself on the radio for the first time? I remember distinctly, because all my friends had heard [“Don’t Mean Nothing”], it was blowing up the charts fast, but it wasn’t getting pop radio play yet, it broke on rock radio. It crossed over to the pop charts a couple of months later, but it went to number one on the rock chart. The week that “Don’t Mean Nothing” came out, it got added to more radio rock stations than any debut artist in history. So, we knew we were onto something. First of all, I had Joe Walsh playing on the guitar solo… it sounded kind of like a new Eagles record, which there hadn’t been one in seven or nine years. Randy Meisner and Timothy Schmit sang background vocals; I lucked into that, just connecting with those guys and writing that song, and Walsh hearing the demo and going, “Oh yeah, I want to play on that.” Huge, huge help. It made such a difference. The first time I heard “Don’t Mean Nothing,” I was driving to an interview at one of the TV stations. I was searching for [the song] on the radio; every time I’d get in my car, I’d dial switch through all the rock stations, trying to find it. I was dying to hear my own song. Finally, I hear it play. I pulled the car over, it was euphoric, but I was like, I just wanted to get to the end, I wanted him to say my name. So, the fade comes, Walsh’s guitar solo, the background vocals, and the fade starts to come, and the DJ came on and he went, “And now a word from Kraft.” [He] didn’t back announce my song! But I was elated to hear it. And from that point on, things accelerated so fast that it was a blur. It was hard to catch my breath. I think the single came out in May or June. On my birthday, my 24th birthday, I remember that there was a picture, there’s
a Polaroid picture of me blowing out a candle in Tokyo. It was on my first overseas promotional tour, because the record started to blow up around the world.
Your music has really been an important part of the soundtrack of many people’s lives. The summer of 1988, when “Endless Summer Nights” and “Hold on to the Nights” were high on the charts, radio was truly blessed with a plethora of amazing artists. Were you listening to any of the music that was hitting the charts? Everything. I’m still that way. I’ve always listened to everything. Currently I’m fanboying over Bruno Mars. That summer on my first tour, I was telling my kids this story the other day, I started making a little bit of money, right? Doing big shows. But we’re still living meagerly, and it’s me and my band, and we’re mostly staying in crappy motels. I was so fried, but I would just get up and do it. We had graduated to CDs and [we] had a CD Walkman. That summer, some company, I think it was Sony, made little speakers to go with it, that would plug in to where the headphone jack was. I remember, we played a gig and then we went back to the motel, and I had my band and crew all come to my room, which was just as crappy as their room. So, three of us were sitting on my bed, there’s one chair, everyone else is sitting on the floor, and I put the CD Walkman and the speakers on the desk, and we listened to Def Leppard’s Hysteria from
beginning to end. I’ll never forget that. I’ll never forget that excitement.
Your second album, Repeat Offender, went six times platinum. That is almost unheard of. “Right Here Waiting” was a global phenomenon. What’s the story behind the song? I was touring… the tour for the first album was 15 months straight. I got to open for REO Speedwagon, who I loved, and I’m still great friends with Kevin Cronin to this day. And they were so gracious to me, and welcoming. We did a whole summer tour together with me opening for them. But I never stopped touring, the following summer I was playing the exact same venues, but as the headliner. So, I’m towards the end of that tour, my girlfriend at the time who became my wife, now my ex-wife, Cynthia, was making a film in Africa. I told my agent, “I got to have two weeks to go see my girlfriend.” There was no FaceTime back then. And right before, a week before my trip, the South African government denied my visa, thinking that I was coming to protest the Apartheid, which I certainly would have, but that’s not what I was going for. I just wanted to see my girlfriend. So, it meant that I had two weeks off, which wasn’t a good thing for me, because I was alone, missing her, and not working. And three months away from somebody in an early part of your relationship is really tough. ROUTE Magazine 47
So I went to my friend, Bruce Gaitsch, who I co-wrote “Don’t Mean Nothing” with, and said, “I need to come over and we need to write the angriest rock song I’ve ever written.” So, I go over to his house, and we write this song that’s so arena rock, like hard rock. And I’m still miserable. We finished the song, we’re gonna do a little demo of it, and he had a studio in his garage. He went into the house to make a phone call and he had a little electric piano. I sat down and I wrote “Right Here Waiting” as if I had rehearsed it. Lyrics were coming, the melody came like (snaps fingers) that fast. I just started singing it. Bruce poked his head in and goes, “What is that?” I said, “I don’t know.” He goes, “Get a tape recorder!” It didn’t fit the Repeat Offender album in my mind, and it was also way too personal. The whole point of “Right Here Waiting” was for me to say to Cynthia, “I miss you; I’ll be here. This is a hard time for us, but I want you to know that I’m here.” Right? I mailed the cassette, snail mail. It got to her two weeks later and she started playing it for all her friends and the people on set. She was very moved by it. By the time she gets home, I’m off the road, I’m starting to make the new album, the Repeat Offender album, and I’ve got “Nothin’ You Can Do About It.” I’ve got “Satisfied.” It’s a rock album. But my friends, who had heard the demo of “Right Here Waiting,” came to me and they were like, “You’re an idiot if you don’t put this on the record. It’s a one listen, it’s like an anthem.” I was like, “It’s too soft.” I tried to give it to Barbra Streisand, because she had asked me for a song at that time. And she… I still have the voicemail, I’m friends with her to this day. Barbra Streisand is like one of the coolest people you could ever meet, and we’ve become dear friends and I love her so much. But she rejected “Right Here Waiting” because she said to me, “I loved the music, but I’m not gonna be right here waiting for anybody!” (Laughs) So, I reluctantly agreed to record it. And then the next thing I knew… I didn’t think it would be a single, or if it was a single, that it’d be like the fourth single, you know, because we had songs on the Repeat Offender album that I felt really good about, some of which never saw the light of day as a single. But “Right Here Waiting” came out and just obliterated everything in its path. The only downside to it was that it really did solidify this whole balladeer thing.
It’s a compliment, actually. On the Repeat Offender tour, I went to Australia, and I had a morning off, a rare morning off where I didn’t have press and radio to do, and I took a walk around the neighborhood of my hotel, just outside of Melbourne. And I went down this little side street and there was a woman opening up a flower shop. And as I passed her, she was putting stuff in her window, so her back was to me, and as I passed her, she was singing, “Right Here Waiting.” To herself as I passed her. And I stopped, she never saw me, but I stopped, and I went, “What the hell?” I’m on the other side of the world and this random person is singing the song that I wrote strictly for my own selfish reasons. Pretty mind blowing, pretty humbling.
Another number one hit and a very evocative story within a song was “Hazard.” What motivated you to tell that story? I was doing the Repeat Offender tour, I was going through the Midwest, it was three o’clock in the morning, I was sound asleep in the back lounge of my bus and that song, I think it’s 48 ROUTE Magazine
the only song I really ever dreamed, like McCartney dreamed “Yesterday.” I dreamed “Hazard,” the music to [it]. I could hear the whole record, it wasn’t just like a linear melody, it was like I could hear the instrumentation, it sounded like a movie score. I mean, at first of course I thought, “Oh, this is something else, this already exists.” And I was like, “No, I dreamed this. I’m making this up as I go.” So, I grabbed my cassette recorder and started singing all the parts so that I wouldn’t forget it. It took a while for me to let the music tell me that it needed to not be a love song. I was always fascinated with the idea of trying to write a fictional story and I turned it into a murder mystery. Now, I’ve got to be honest with you, the last thing in the world I thought was that that song would be a hit or even a single. It was just going to be an album cut. I was proud of it as a songwriter, but I didn’t think anybody would give a shit. And then the label put it out as a single and the thing just blew up, all over the world. I couldn’t believe it.
For much of your career, you led a pretty low-key life and stayed quite private. But in 2021 you released your memoir Stories to Tell. Why was that the right time to get candid and tell your story? The impetus for the book and the origin of the book really started years ago as a sort of fantasy of someday writing a book on the life story of my songs. I don’t have a lot of stories about the writing of the songs, but I have countless interesting and funny stories surrounding the making or recording of songs in the studio. And I’ve found that… like, we’re sitting around having a tequila or a martini, something will prompt me to go, “I got a funny story for you, when I was doing this thing...” So, I started telling those stories when I started doing a solo acoustic show in 2010, and then it became arguably as important as the songs. After a couple years of doing that, there were enough people who said, “You know, you should write a book with these stories.” And then I started, “Oh, that could be kind of cool.” It was a fantasy idea until my manager showed a few of the pages and stories to someone at Simon & Schuster, who really liked it, and the next thing I knew I had an offer to write the book. I dove into it. As I worked on it, my editor at the publisher said, “You’re a notoriously private guy, but I think that people really are going to want whatever you’re willing to give them, so maybe, is there room for you to be a little bit more personal? Talk about your childhood, talk about your divorce, about being a father...” My initial reaction was, “I’m not writing about any of that.” You know? (Laughs) But then I took the approach as a reader, what would I want?
When you were around 12 years old, you and your dad began to develop a deeper, more intimate relationship. What happened? I’ll preface this by saying that my father was always loving and very affectionate to me. So, I grew up with a loving father, but I grew up with a father who was obsessed with his work, loved every second, couldn’t wait to get to the office. He made music; it was really wonderful to grow up watching a father who couldn’t wait to go to work. It inspired me. But because he was committed to his work and because he was so successful at the time when I was growing up, I took a backseat. I wasn’t aware of it, I didn’t feel neglected by him,
but I was aware that all my friends were out with their dads, playing catch with their dads. And I would play catch with my dad once every six weeks, maybe. We had dinner together as a family, the three of us most of the time, but I was really raised by my mother and my grandparents. But I adored him. I knew that I loved him, but I didn’t feel close to him, because he didn’t really have the opportunity for us to get close. So, when I was about 10 or 11, he was driving home from the city and listening to the radio and “Cat’s in the Cradle” by Harry Chapin came on. It’s a song about a man who realizes that he had put his family and his son on the back burner for so long that now his son has grown up and was gone, and all he wants in life now is to be close to his son, but his son doesn’t have time for him now. It’s the circle of life, it’s a powerful song. My dad listened to it, he was a pretty stoic guy, I mean, he was very loving and affectionate, but not a crier particularly. But he was sobbing in the car, listening to these lyrics. And he came home, I remember him coming home and he had composed himself at this point, but he came in and went right to my room and just put his arms around me and held me and hugged me and said, “I love you. I love you.” And I was like, “What’s going on? Is there bad news?” I didn’t know what was going on. And then he told me, he said, “I heard this song.” And he played it for me, and he said, “I don’t want this to happen to us.” I was too young to sort of feel the emotional impact of it in the moment, you know, but looking back, I could cry about it right now. So that set a tone. But it wasn’t like a 180 overnight, but we did start to spend more time together. By the time I was in high school, our relationship was solidified, we were best, best friends. And then we started working together as my career started to take off. You know, when I moved out to LA at 18 it was my dad who flew me out to help me find an apartment. I’ll never forget, we spent about four or five days together. He was there when I sang on the first Lionel Richie record. When I took him to the airport, he was leaving me in LA, and he completely fell apart, he had a complete breakdown in front of me. And it’s indelible, I’ve never seen my father crumble like that, and it was just a testament to how much we loved each other, and how much we were gonna miss each other. And then the greatest thing was two years later when they called me and said, “We’re moving to LA.” So yeah, the path that my father’s and my relationship took was not typical or normal, but it became… all my friends would say, “You have something with your father that no one has.” We did, and my father, for years and years, would say to me, “God forbid one of us gets hit by a bus tomorrow or something happens, we have said it all. You know how proud of you I am. You know how much I love you. I know how much you love me. We’ve said it, there’s nothing left that we haven’t said, there’s no unfinished business.” And he said that to me so many times that when he was tragically taken from me when I was 33, I ultimately fell back and leaned on that a little bit.
You are a father of three grown boys now. How did your upbringing with your dad impact the type of father you were?
can’t replicate necessarily, even the best of it if the dynamic is different, because your partner is different than your mother was, you know? So, the way that Cynthia and her family were raised was an influence on how we raised our boys, it was a push and pull. For the most part, it was smooth sailing in that we agreed, we were a united front as parents. Cynthia was and is a really wonderful mother. I think what I brought to the table was a willingness to be soft. Between the two of us, I was probably the stricter disciplinarian, but… I think the most consistent criticism or complaints I hear from guys is that their father just wasn’t as affectionate with them as they would have liked. My sons can’t say that. To this day, we hug and kiss each other, we are really, really demonstrative. And every single day there is a “I love you” text between me and all three of my sons, every day, at some point. So, I think that I learned that from my parents.
Out of all the songs you’ve written, do you have a song that you’re most proud of? It’s a tie. One is the song I wrote for myself, “Through My Veins.” The other one that I’m really proud of I didn’t sing. I wrote it with Kenny Loggins, and it’s called, “The One That Got Away.” It was a song that Kenny needed to write. When I was a kid, I worshiped him.
“Through My Veins” is a deeply moving and emotional song that you wrote about the loss of your dad? It was so hard for me, I feared writing about losing my dad because it was so massive an emotion. I thought, “There’s no way.” I remember thinking to myself, “Just don’t even think about it.” Maybe four nights later, I was working on some stuff in my studio, and all of a sudden, I just heard this thing in my head, and I ran, it was two o’clock in the morning, everybody was asleep. I ran to the piano; I had this beautiful Yamaha, and I started playing the whole instrumental bit. I was playing those chords and I was moved by it, and I was like, “What is this?” And then it hit me, what it was, I needed to write this about missing my dad. And I wrote, and I stayed up till six in the morning and I wrote the whole song that night.
What do you want people to remember when they think about Richard Marx? What do you want your legacy to be? That I was a loving, loyal friend and as good a father as I could possibly be. Nothing musical, nothing creative. I mean, if people remember me as like, “Oh, he wrote good songs,” that’s wonderful. But that’s not on my list, my list is all personal. I hope that for decades after I’m gone, people go, “Oh man, let me tell you a story about Richard Marx.” Check out Richard’s new album Songwriter. The record is a great blend of pop, rock, ballads, and country, and will be released in 2022. The album is a great blend of pop, rock, ballads, and country.
I think profoundly, even though I think I was a little different parent in some ways because of the dynamic of, like, you ROUTE Magazine 49
OUT IN THE
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E DESERT By Nick Gerlich Opening photograph by Billy Brewer
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he 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 52 ROUTE Magazine
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
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. ROUTE Magazine 53
Image by Eric Axene.
Albert and Kyle Okura inside the lobby and shop.
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 54 ROUTE Magazine
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 The story of Roy’s is necessarily one with generational nuance, even if two completely different families have owned
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. ROUTE Magazine 55
Image by Eric Axene.
Albert and Kyle out front near the gas pumps.
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he 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
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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.
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ART DECO EXT By Chip Minty Photographs by Emily Steward 62 ROUTE Magazine
TRAVAGANZA ROUTE Magazine 63
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klahoma wasn’t even a state when Robert Galbreath found himself drilling for oil on Indian land near a creek settlement called Tulsey Town in 1905. He nearly gave up on the well a couple of times, but the gusher eventually broke free later that year, marking Oklahoma’s first major oil field and setting a course for the small town and Oklahoma Territory. The discovery of the oil field turned the small town into a veritable boomtown, bringing with it a surge in population numbers. Legendary oilmen such as Frank Philips, William Skelly, Harry Ford Sinclair, and J. Paul Getty are among the pioneers woven into Tulsa’s rich fabric, and with their wealth and stature, Tulsa became known as the “Oil Capital of the World,” a cosmopolitan anomaly amid the roughhewn plains of 1920s Oklahoma. During this period, local entrepreneur and oilman Cyrus Avery was looking at an even bigger picture. As a member of the federal board appointed to create the nation’s Federal Highway System, Avery worked to establish a roadway that would cut across the country from Chicago to Los Angeles. He fought for that highway to pass through his hometown, arguing that Tulsa’s 11th Street Bridge, built in 1915, was the only viable way for the new highway to cross the Arkansas River. And as we now all know, Route 66 became the highway that would go on to define America. As Tulsa was coming of age in the 1920s and ’30s, the Art Deco movement was also taking hold. Fueled by the wealth and prosperity of oil, Tulsa was primed for development and technological advancement. The burgeoning city’s skyline blossomed with the innovation and beauty of the modernism style, establishing Tulsa as a hub of Art Deco architecture. Bold geometric forms, triangular shapes, zigzag patterns, curved ornamental elements, and vibrant colors characterized Tulsa’s downtown large-scale construction. The Philcade office building, Pythian Building, Tulsa Club Hotel, Union Depot, and Boston United Methodist Church were among the buildings distinguished by the sleek motifs of contemporaneity. Today, these vestiges of Tulsa’s glorious past still gleam on the city’s skyline, embedded into the Midwest city’s identity. And down on the city’s stretch of the Mother Road, one local artist is celebrating this Art Deco architectural legacy in a unique and spirited way.
It was Destiny For artist William Franklin, growing up in Tulsa was like having a front-row seat to the 20th Century’s early days. “You had oil barons, you had flappers, gangsters, Art Deco, Route 66, and Will Rogers. Tulsa was in the middle of all that,” said Franklin. His love of history and his passion for art would serendipitously merge and lead him to an Art Deco extravaganza of Route 66 nostalgia, open for the world to see at the edge of the Mother Road. But that journey took him decades to complete. 64 ROUTE Magazine
Born in 1966 to Anita Anderson, a geology professor and professional artist, and Floyd Franklin, who dabbled in the arts, art and painting were part and parcel of his childhood. Both of his grandmothers were artists as well. Some of his earliest memories were going to art shows with his mother and his maternal grandmother, Marjorie Anderson, an accomplished oil painter who is famed for posing nude in 1941 for a 40-foot “Goddess of Oil” statue commissioned for Tulsa’s International Petroleum Exposition Building at Expo Square, where the Golden Driller now stands. She was only 19 at the time. World War II broke out shortly after, so the statue was never used, but the money Anderson made was enough to pay for art lessons. For Franklin’s family, art was not just a passion, it was a calling, and Franklin had a knack for it. He would win art contests at school, using some of the tricks and techniques he picked up at home. However, his parents discouraged him from pursuing it, urging that two generations of artists in the family were enough and cautioning him that there were more lucrative career fields than art. And so, after a couple of years in the Army, Franklin enrolled at Syracuse University, but then wound up back in Tulsa, working full-time at UPS and attending Tulsa Community College, bouncing between majors until UPS laid him off. Frustrated about work and school, Franklin acquiesced to the universe, and began his journey as an artist. “I’d already started doing a little work for some friends and family, and I said, ‘Well, I’m just going to do it, and make it.’ I ended up having to sell my house, and I lost my car, and I moved into a little bitty, tiny apartment,” said Franklin. “I struggled. I was definitely a starving artist.” It’s said that fortune smiles upon those who are willing to take risks. And for Franklin, his gamble to pursue his calling was about to pay off. Instead of painting on canvases and selling his work at art shows, he took a few jobs painting murals for clients, and discovered his specialty, and road to success. Big murals, tiny murals, it didn’t matter. People wanted murals in their homes and in their businesses. There was a push to place murals in parks and public spaces throughout Tulsa, and Franklin was more than happy and willing to paint them. “I can paint pretty much anything, but my bread and butter at the time was when they were building all the mansions that had an Italian and French look to them,” he said. “They wanted to have their ceilings and walls emulate
Inside of Franklin’s colorful store.
those old frescos and stuff like that. So, that’s what I really enjoyed doing.”
Opportunities Abound No project was too big or too small. He once painted a tiny mouse in a corner that looked like it was going into a hole in the wall, while other murals were 500 feet across, on walls and ceilings. Franklin even designed and painted one of the largest murals in Oklahoma history at the WinStar World Casino and Resort in southern Oklahoma. He worked for two years on that project and had to build a studio in Tulsa specifically for the job, where he painted a collection of murals on huge rolls of canvas that required a semi-tractor trailer to deliver. The main murals were of classic cities of the world, including Paris, London, Beijing, and Madrid. The largest of them was Rome, which spanned 50 feet across the casino’s ceiling. Franklin’s work has without a doubt been a labor of love. “At first, I was definitely a starving artist, but then there was a time at the peak when I was doing, sometimes, three homes at a time. I really enjoyed it. It was a great thing.”
You only have to walk around Tulsa to see imprints of Franklin’s distinctive touch in a number of artworks and murals on the city’s walls. While most of his jobs have been in Tulsa, the self-taught artist’s work has been commissioned throughout the U.S. and Europe, including Washington D.C., Texas, and in Florida, where he worked around Disney World.
Change was in the Air Franklin rode the wave of success and acclaim as a mural artist for around 25 years before he began to transition to other enterprises that eventually brought him to the doorstep of Route 66. He started looking for something that he could do to help make Tulsa better, a more vibrant city. He was hungry to contribute his talents, skills, and interests. Then, while designing an Art Deco poster for Tulsa’s Mayfest event, it occurred to him that Tulsa did not have an Art Deco museum. Considering the important role that Art Deco has had in Tulsa’s history and culture, Franklin knew that he had to do something about it. He rallied friends and volunteers to begin fundraising and event planning, which culminated in Art Deco displays and ROUTE Magazine 65
William Franklin.
tours in the Philcade Building. Using the momentum that initial project created, Franklin established a retail business in Tulsa’s Downtown Deco District that he called DECOPOLIS. It was an Art Deco-themed shop with books, toys, gifts, rocks, dinosaurs, and art deco paintings, prints, and posters that he created. When tourist traffic in Tulsa’s Deco District slowed down, Franklin looked for a new venue for DECOPOLIS, and in August of 2020, he found a new home, an old transmission shop at 1401 E 11th Street, just steps from the Mother Road.
At Home on the Mother Road Route 66 was always a part of Franklin’s earliest memories. Like millions of families in the 1960s and ’70s, road trips were an exciting part of growing up. He still remembers taking the old highway to see the Petrified Forest, the Grand Canyon, and the Painted Desert in Arizona. So, it seemed fitting that his next venture would be on the Main Street of America. The building that called to him originated as a car dealership that operated at a time when new cars were sold from the showroom floor. Now, fully renovated, customers wouldn’t recognize the automotive kinship that the place once had with the great American road trip. On the outside of the building is a big, blue, and bold DECOPOLIS mural facing Route 66. On one end, there’s a giant yellow crescent moon, smiling like he’s gazing at a piece of chocolate cake. On the right, there’s a giant golden gear, round and spiked with big, squared-off teeth, and there’s a tiny fairy flying above it, leaving a wispy trail of stardust. Across the top, is painted, “DECOPOLIS DISCOVITORIUM” in golden letters similar to what might appear on a Disney World attraction. Near the front door stands a large, green, smiling dinosaur, enticing visitors to step into the wonderland that awaits. DECOPOLIS is part art gallery, part museum, and part gift shop. Inside, Franklin has turned every corner, every nook, every tiny passageway, and every shelf into a unique adventure. DECOPOLIS is not dark, but the lighting is muted, with music in the background, and the splashing sound from a fountain that Franklin created for one of his rock exhibits. Walking through is like traveling Route 66, all 2,448 miles of it. There is quirky, 66 ROUTE Magazine
and comical, and stuff that makes you wonder: stained glass, lava lamps, there’s a volcano and dinosaurs, along with biplanes and blimps. And then, there are things that you just can’t identify. Franklin’s Art Deco paintings are still prominent. In fact, they seem ubiquitous, spilling from his gallery into the general population of merchandise, seasoning the atmosphere like salt and pepper. And, like Route 66 itself, there are designated stops and photo ops like the “SITTON INDADARK THEATER,” the “LOTABARGEN’S DEPARTMENT STORE,” and “The Great Atomic Tiki.” The store has become a popular stop for both locals and tourists alike, and Franklin attributes a lot of that success to his neighbors in the surrounding Meadow Gold District: a node of shops, restaurants, and businesses that surround the giant neon Meadow Gold sign that has been a Route 66 icon for years. Travelers can stop to eat lunch at the Wildflower Café, walk over to Josey Records, or visit Jenkins and Co. gift shop, and the Sky Gallery. Across the street from DECOPOLIS is the popular Buck Atom’s Cosmic Curios on 66, which itself resides in a former PEMCO service station building. The shop is a Route 66 spectacle in its own right, with a blue and red neon “Bucks on 66” sign and a 20-foot-tall, fiberglass muffler man dressed like a space cowboy, holding a rocket ship. Franklin’s establishment has only been on Route 66 for a short period of time, but he’s already an ardent advocate, looking ahead to the Mother Road’s centennial in 2026. In fact, he has been enlisted to help design exhibits for the AAA Route 66 Road Fest in Oklahoma City and Tulsa. Set for June 18-26 of this year, the event begins a five-year countdown to celebrating the Main Street of America’s first 100 years. It’s an event that is set to launch events and celebrations across the eight Route 66 states. “I’m one of the lead designers on the project,” said Franklin. “The theme [will be] going through the different decades to show how our culture has evolved and developed over time on Route 66. There will be a 1920s section, a 1930s section, and so on. You’ll go into these pods, where you’ll be immersed in that decade. There’s a lot of research that goes into it. What are the colors, what were the clothes that people were wearing? What were the toys and the objects of the era, and the things that were being built along Route 66? What music were they listening to? So, you kind of get a feel for the era. And of course, they’re going to have the vehicles in there from each of the decades.” As for Franklin, he’s an artistic entrepreneur whose life journey led him to a destiny on the Mother Road. After fruitful decades of painting murals, DECOPOLIS is the new canvas for his flamboyant muse – and maybe that is not even big enough for him. Franklin’s vision for Tulsa and for how his art can positively impact the world is enormous, and his enthusiasm to spread the joy is contagious. These days, as Mother Road travelers approach the old Meadow Gold sign and Tulsa’s storied Art Deco skyline, they will find a new roadside stop waiting eagerly for them. Route 66 has always been a road of change, an iconic highway that still takes the pulse of America and showcases its enviable diversity and varied culture. There has been a myriad of characters over the hundred years who have played their part in bringing a Route 66 journey to life. William Franklin is right at home.
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LURE OF CA
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ADIZ SUMMIT Photograph by Billy Brewer
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he road toward the Pacific Ocean, through the Mojave, has always been plagued with difficulty, yet early motorists, throwing caution to the wind, headed west anyway, paving the way for opportunistic entrepreneurs to sell gas, food, lodging, and vehicle repairs to those who dared challenge nature and the rugged terrain. That opportunity is the voice Thomas and Frances Morgan heeded in 1928 when they built a desert oasis at the top of Cadiz (“Katies”) Summit, a location that today is a favorite photo opportunity for Mother Road tourists. The town of Cadiz itself was a few miles south along the railroad, and the highway had been moved north a few years prior. The road was still dirt back then, and not paved until a few years later. Today it is a desolate area, but back then it was notably harsh country. The Morgans and their three young children had migrated from Iowa to the desert around 1920. Tom established a small general store in Amboy, but the store burned to the ground. His stockpile of fireworks for the 4th of July served to fuel the flames. He then toiled in various jobs for a while, borrowed money from his father, and then packed up his family and moved, to homestead 160 acres about 14 miles to the east. When they arrived at the Summit, as it was known locally, only the native creosote and sagebrush awaited them, somehow growing in the eroded detritus of the Marble Mountains. Traffic was initially not very high during the early years of the Great Depression. The flow of travelers did increase after 1930, though, with Dust Bowl refugees chasing hope farther west in the Central Valley. The Morgans lived in a tent at first, but the mild winter and spring weather allowed Tom to finish a long building on the north side of the road that served as residence, restaurant, and office. He then added a gas pump in front under a Texaco banner, along with a few tourist cabins and an outhouse in the back. It was a hardscrabble existence, but Tom created a roadside stop out of nothing. Working by himself, he was motivated by the fear of not being able to provide for his family. During these early days there was no electricity at Cadiz Summit, and there wouldn’t be for decades. Water had to be hauled in, and kerosene was used to heat a stove as well as for lamps. The gas pump was hand cranked. In spite of this, Tom saw fit to add on to his little empire, building a garage and another cabin across the highway on the south side. Cadiz Summit had prospered to the point of occupying two sides of the highway at once. Traffic over Cadiz Summit was never really enough to render it a prime location, but it was enough to sustain the Morgans. It even became a designated stop for Greyhound buses. But in 1931, when the road was finally paved, the road was widened and lowered five feet to reduce the grade. This created a hardship for Tom in particular, who suddenly found his cafe and gas pumps far above the new roadway, making it impossible to fuel cars. However, ever an innovator, he moved the pumps, and then built both a stairway leading up to the restaurant and a retaining wall.
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After six years at the helm, the Morgans had endured about enough, and they left for Los Angeles. Incomplete historical records leave gaps in the narrative, but in 1936 George and Winifred Tienken bought the property. The couple had been living a short distance south of the Summit, where George worked in the mines. They, too, only survived six years before leaving. In 1944, Clint and Dorothy Hunt took their turn for five years, followed by Jim and Mae Flannagan, who endured until 1961. The last operators were Dick and Nadine Cruse, who were at the helm from 1965-1973 when Interstate 40 opened a short distance north. And then, just like that, the lights—which had only been running on electricity since the late-1960s at Cadiz Summit—went dark. What hadn’t collapsed, burned, or been demolished by then, did so in short order. Today, there is no evidence of any commercial activity on the south side of the road, and on the north, concrete slabs, vestiges of the icehouse and gas pump island, and the walls of the garage that had been built on the east end of the complex are all that remain, harbingers of the distant past. Duke Dotson spent some of his formative years nearby at Road Runner’s Retreat between Cadiz Summit and Amboy. His parents had bought the place in 1962, and he recalls vividly what happened the day the freeway opened. “The only person who came down the highway to our area that day was someone who worked for the railroad, and he bought a cup of coffee,” he said. “My dad stood up [at the Road Runner], looked at the employees and said, ‘Folks, it looks like this is the end.’” And it was, for virtually every business along 66. “I don’t know what happened to the Cruses after the freeway opened that day. It was very abrupt and very unceremonious. It just kicked everybody,” Dotson added. But until that moment, it was business as usual at the Summit. “They had a couple of houses there. The restaurant was still intact, and the gas station was in full swing. He also had a couple of tow trucks.” The grade often caused cars to overheat. In many regards, little has changed since the Mojave became a transportation corridor. Its inhospitable climate kept any of the numerous towns and railroad water stops from ever growing beyond a couple of hundred residents. While the roads introduced more than a century ago evolved considerably, the desert itself never did, at least not discernibly so. It is, for all intents and purposes, identical to how modern humans have ever known it: a no-man’s land, aside from the most hardy. Today, Cadiz Summit is popular if only because it is easy to imagine how it all once looked, even if there are only a handful of extant photos from the intervening years. The garage’s walls are popular graffiti targets and have been used for many photo shoots. The large Route 66 shield painted on the road adjacent to the ruins provides a convenient foreground focal point for photographers looking up toward the summit. And were it not for that one building and shield, travelers would never know that this quiet lonely spot has impacted so many people’s lives.
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BRAIDWOOD’S By Ale Malick Opening photograph by Efren Lopez/Route66Images
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BEACON
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he path of legendary Route 66 was determined by logistics, local business, alreadyestablished roads, and the decisions of highway associations and state highway departments. But one of the things that undeniably preserves the Mother Road in lore is the iconic roadside eatery. Whether an early version of the food truck, a cobbled-together small roadside stand, or a sleek dining establishment, Route 66 is most definitely known for one of the most beloved remnants of mid-century America, diners. As the reality of paved, contiguous highways opened the country up to people in a way it never had before, those travelers needed somewhere to sleep and to eat. Roadside stands and drive-in restaurants became essentials for salesmen to continue to expand their businesses, for families moving toward a new life, or vacationers just out to explore the country. It kept them watered and fed. Up in the Route 66 town of Braidwood, Illinois, one such diner has stood the test of time and has become a strong symbol of American life — the Polk-A-Dot Drive In.
Where the Story Begins 1956 was an exciting time for businesses located along Route 66. This was the period when families flush with cash and enthusiasm were taking to the road in droves to explore America. They were hungry to taste and experience America, and what better route to use than the Mother Road. Up near the start of the route, not far from Chicago, Wilmington local, Chester “Chet” Fife knew a good thing when he saw it and was getting ready to open a roadside eatery of his own — well, actually, a white school bus — to tap into the many Route 66 motorists that were regularly passing through town. His choice location was the town of Braidwood. Fife fitted the bus with a grill, an ice cream machine, and a pop machine, and he customized a window so that people could walk up to the bus and buy their food. A man with vision and patience, Fife started small, mainly selling hot dogs, sandwiches, ice cream, and sodas. His sister Sylvia painted huge colorful polka dots on the exterior of the bulky vehicle, choosing colors based primarily on the paint that she already had on hand. This action would have unexpected consequences when an inspired Fife christened his school bus diner the Polk-A-Dot. Every day, Fife, who lived in nearby Wilmington, would drive his bus to Braidwood, do business all day, and cart the quirky vehicle back home when the sun went down. Business was good, and in 1962, an ever-ambitious Fife was eventually able to build and move his operations into something more permanent in the same spot where the bus had been parked. Although the revamped Polk-A-Dot still only offered walkup service, with no indoor seating, it now had a new kitchen that could provide deep-fried food. Fife continued to expand, setting up a seating area with an awning, so that it slowly 74 ROUTE Magazine
began to resemble the drive-in that we know today. At the time, the Polk-A-Dot had established itself as the only fastfood eatery in Braidwood.
New Blood By 1972, change was in the air. Almost all segments of original Route 66 had been bypassed at this time by a modern four-lane highway, and a local couple’s future was about to collide with the Polk-A-Dot’s. Judy Chinski had lived all her life in Braidwood. She and her husband Daniel had three children and Judy was busy pursuing a career as a beautician in her mother’s beauty shop. However, now in her 30s, she had a hunger for something more, something of her own. Perhaps she got that entrepreneurial spirit from her parents, Kathryn and John Dixon, who had owned a successful tavern and restaurant, aptly called Dixon’s, when she was a kid. “Like they did years ago, [our] house was in the back of the tavern. My mom ran the restaurant, and my dad ran the tavern,” shared Judy. In a stroke of what could only be serendipity, Judy heard in passing that the local drive-in restaurant was up for sale. “I just decided that I wanted to do it. And my husband agreed. The kids were old enough, they were all in school, so it was no problem. I came and looked at it, talked with the people that owned it, got my husband to come and look at it. And we decided that this might be a thing for me as my job,” Judy said. So, in 1972, they became the proud new owners of the Polk-A-Dot Drive In. Judy dove right into running the drive-in, though only through the summer months. “We were open maybe May through September. We weren’t a full-time restaurant. There really wasn’t a lot here. We just had the cooking equipment, ice cream machine, grill, seating for about thirteen people, and an old jukebox machine.” Even so, the restaurant took off and business boomed. It seemed like the perfect fit for the daughter of a successful restaurant owner, but with a new baby in the family and Daniel working a full-time job, it was just not feasible to keep it open. A decision was made to sell and close their chapter in the Braidwood food business. In 1978, the drive-in was purchased by Pat and Angelo Bianchin.
Time for Some Reinvention In 1994, with some healthy competition from a new McDonald’s across the street and an eagerness to innovate,
the Polk-A-Dot changed its appearance and persona once again. True to the essence of the business, Judy and Cathy didn’t try to modernize and shiny up their little drive-in. For these Braidwood locals, they thankfully decided to look to the past for inspiration. “When we first took it over, it had five booths, so seating for about thirteen, fifteen people,” said Judy. “We didn’t even have public bathrooms at that time. McDonald’s was going in across the street and we knew in order to keep our business, we had to do something. So, we decided that all had to be upgraded. That is when we built on, bought the statues, and totally turned it into a ‘50s diner.” One can often get an idea of the culture and mood of a venue once they step inside. Is it fine dining, a greasy spoon, or perhaps something a little more unique? Inside of the drive-in, there is no confusion on the experience that customers should expect. The drive-in now accommodates seating for ninety and the walls are covered in pictures
Inside of the Mid-Century drive-in. ROUTE Magazine 75
Image by Efren Lopez/Route66Images.
However, the Polk-A-Dot was not yet done with Daniel and Judy Chinski. That funny little word, serendipity, would waltz back into their lives once again. Less than nine years later, in 1987, the Chinskis would repurchase the Polk-A-Dot, although this time, they went into partnership with Judy’s brother John and his wife Cathy. “I have no idea why we decided to buy it again. It must be in our blood. My brother John approached the people that I had sold to, and they were interested in selling,” said Judy. “And from there we decided to go ahead with it because Cathy and I were both able to work. Now, my daughter, Judiann, manages the Polk-A-Dot.”
The updated look and vibe fit perfectly along Route 66 and attracted patrons right away. Even though they were not thinking of international travelers when they were renovating, the throwback to 1950s nostalgia really appealed to international visitors. This strategic decision allowed the Polk-A-Dot to not only remain open, but to thrive as domestic and international visitors continue to discover the little spot in Braidwood, making it not just a place to get a drink or a bite to eat, but a destination in and of itself. “One of the visitors that I liked the best was a man from Australia. He had a Marilyn Monroe tattoo over his heart. He asked if I would be offended if he took his shirt off and showed me. It was beautiful. It was amazing to see what people will do,” Judy commented.
Here to Stay
Outside stand life-size icons of yesteryear.
of American icons like Buddy Holly, Steve McQueen, and Charlie Chaplin. On every table is an original table jukebox, reminiscent of the 1950s experience and sourced from all over the world. “We have a lunch counter across the front like they had years ago, with stools, we have three children’s booths for little kids, and one tabletop with stools that are kid-sized, and they are occupied at all times. The kids really love them.” But there was one particularly personal touch for Judy. “When they tore down the building that housed my parents’ tavern/restaurant, it was all glass blocks in the front that my dad had put in in the 1950s. When it was demolished, Dad saved them all, and put them into storage. We got them out, cleaned them up, and the builders incorporated it into the new building for us.” Outside the eatery, life-size statues of Marilyn Monroe, Elvis Presley, James Dean, Betty Boop, and the Blues Brothers circle the building, the perfect hosts to welcome visitors. Soon after, the ladies added another new addition to their exterior: a 15-foot Elvis Presley who stands guard at the start of the driveway, right on Route 66. “My brother found [Elvis] over in the LaSalle area and brought him home on the back of a U-Haul. He took a backhoe and actually slid that thing into place and didn’t drop him. It was amazing to witness. People were everywhere watching when he was putting Elvis into place. We even had to block off one end of the driveway. We also have a telephone booth that my brother had out in his garage, and a statue of Superman that we put up around 2017, and in the background, we have the Daily Planet,” Judy added proudly. 76 ROUTE Magazine
The lovable figures, the soft glowing pink neon around the roofline, and the giant, perfectlylit Route 66-shield sign that spins high in the sky above the venue, are such a fixture of this stretch of the Route now, that even when the drive-in is closed, the parking lot is full of people stopping for the perfect photo opportunity. The Polk-A-Dot Drive In, like many of the important stops on Route 66, is a family affair. “It’s a family-run business; almost all of our kids have worked here, even our grandkids have worked here,” said Judy. “My sisterin-law, Cathy, is my business partner, and my brother is involved; he and my nephew do all the maintenance on the building. My youngest daughter manages the staff, and my husband Daniel was involved before he passed.” This isn’t just limited to her own family either. “I have employees here now that I have hired their children, that’s how long we’ve been here.” Like many destinations along the Mother Road, the name and the outside image of the Polk-A-Dot can be found in many a book and website, but very little is actually documented about the people behind the historic eatery. As we lose Route 66 saviors, and their history and stories disappear with them, an important piece of America’s journey is disappearing, too. Thankfully, the Polk-A-Dot has numerous ambassadors who will continue to not only welcome patrons from far and wide, providing a memorable mid-century dining experience, but share and celebrate a small piece of Illinois 66 that all started with a dream, a vision, and an old school bus with some overly large hand-painted polka dots.
Route 66 runs through Bloomington-Normal! Discover Route 66 history at our visitors center and shop for local items and Route 66 treasures. A travel kiosk allows visitors to explore all the things to see and do in the area as well as plan their next stop on Route 66. You can even get “Busted on 66” with a photo op in the old county jail at the center! On Museum Square in Downtown Bloomington, the Cruisin’ with Lincoln on 66 Visitors Center is located on the ground floor of the nationally accredited McLean County Museum of History.
CRUISIN’ WITH LINCOLN ON 66 VISITORS CENTER Open Monday–Saturday, 9 a.m.–5 p.m.; Tuesday, Free Admission, 9 a.m.–8 p.m. 200 North Main Street, Bloomington, Illinois 61701 309.827.0428 • CruisinwithLincolnon66.org *10% off gift purchases
Bloomington-Normal Area Convention & Visitors Bureau 800.433.8226 / VisitBN.org
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JOHN’S MODE Words by Joe Sonderman Photograph by Brennen Matthews 78 ROUTE Magazine
ERN CABINS ROUTE Magazine 79
J
ohn’s Modern Cabins east of Arlington, Missouri, are a link to the evolution of accommodations on Route 66 from the modest cabins to the space age motels and the modern chains. They were affected by each distinct era of Route 66 history: the Great Depression, the Boom Years, the Interstate Era, and even a revival. Tracing the history of these structures and the roads in front of them baffles even the experts. From the way things appear, the road in front of the cabins should be Highway 66. That’s not the case because the roads and the cabins have been moved repeatedly. But don’t believe your eyes. The crumbling road in front never carried Route 66. In the Ozarks during the 1920s, farmers had started putting up a cabin or two and entrepreneurs moved in to serve the increased number of travelers on the road. They used whatever materials were handy and cheap, particularly the native sandstone. Schuman’s Tourist City in Rolla reportedly used converted chicken coops! Simple log cabins were probably the most economical of all, and as the Great Depression held the nation in its grip, a simple roadside cabin with a privy out back was all many travelers could afford. The Bill and Bess Log Cabin Camp opened in 1931, two miles east of Arlington on original Route 66. Operated by Bill and Beatrice “Bess” Bayliss, it originally included six cabins, a service station, and a dance hall. It was a rough and tumble joint almost from the start. Bill and Bess were robbed of a large sum of money on June 18, 1932, by a hitchhiker who evidently “was well informed of the habits of its owners.” He was seen coming down the road to the juke joint, and by the time Mrs. Bayliss opened the rear door, he ran out the front and got away in a big red car that stopped about 100 yards down the road. It was reported he took a quarter from a little girl a short time before the robbery. On October 31, 1935, a Halloween dance was in full swing at the Bayliss place. At about 11 PM, 18-year-old Wilma “Billie” Douglas went into the fireplace room. As she sat with friends, the door flew open and her estranged husband, 22-year-old Eugene Duncan, fired two or three shots. Billie was shot in the head and died at a Rolla hospital. In April 1936, a few days before he was slated to stand trial, Eugene Duncan pleaded guilty to second-degree murder and was sentenced to 50 years in prison. He was paroled after 13 years, became a mechanic, remarried, and lived to age 60. Tragedy struck again on January 11, 1938, when a Pulaski County Deputy Sheriff was killed by his own gun in a freak accident outside the Bayliss place. Walter Tyler and Dick Gray had gone to Rolla for some business. On the way back, they stopped at the Bill and Bess Filling Station for a “Coke.” They came out to find the starter on the vehicle was stuck. Walter climbed onto the running board and began shaking the vehicle, in hopes of disengaging the starter. His gun fell out of the shoulder holster, hit the fender of the vehicle and fired. Walter was hit in the stomach and died almost instantly. When Bill put the place up for sale in August 1939, he advertised it as a tourist camp and filling station, including
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a nice dance hall and restaurant with “A good reputation!” It was just before traffic increased dramatically on Route 66 due to the construction of Fort Leonard Wood. There was a critical housing shortage and anything with a roof was rented by the week or month. The years after World War II are considered the golden age of Route 66. America hit the road in record numbers and the rising middle class demanded more amenities on the way. Motels turned to regional architecture and themes as well as flashing neon to grab the traveler’s attention. Mom and pop places would have found it much more difficult to compete. By this time, it is likely that the Bayliss place would have been mostly rented to hunters, sportsmen, and the occasional local. Ownership of the complex changed multiple times. In 1951, John Dausch retired from Chicago with his wife Lillian and bought the place for $5,000. He renamed it John’s Modern Cabins and constructed three wood frame cabins to the right of his new neon sign. Business remained brisk because Ft. Leonard Wood was reactivated during the Korean War. A large cabin served as their home and John added a laundry room and a snack bar/novelty shop. Dausch also turned to liquor sales to boost income. He reportedly became known as “Sunday John” because he flouted the law against selling alcohol on Sunday. His beer license was suspended at least once for selling to a minor. A rusty and barely legible Falstaff sign lay face down in the leaves behind the store as a silent testament to those days. Route 66 continued its evolution as the higher speeds and increased traffic rendered the old two-lane obsolete. That meant dramatic change soon after the Dausches arrived. In 1952, a new set of lanes was constructed for westbound traffic, forcing the remaining cabins to be moved back. The dance hall and the service station were demolished. The gas station sign post is still on the property, lying behind the cabins. The Interstate Highway Act of 1956 spelled doom for Route 66 and many of the businesses and even entire towns that relied on the traffic. It took a few years for that change to arrive on this Ozarks hillside, but for John’s Modern Cabins, it became a fight for survival that was ultimately lost. Lillian died in October 1968 and John finally closed the cabins as his health failed as well. He died on October 21, 1971. Since the 1970s, the remnants of John’s Modern Cabins near Arlington have been slowly returning to nature. Just one cabin, the faded sign, laundry building, and a couple of old privies still stand. In 2018, a group of volunteers arrived to do some restoration work at the site, stabilizing, shoring up, and water sealing the one remaining cabin. Tree branches endangering the sign and mounds of dangerous debris were also removed. That single cabin will now be a symbol of how life along Route 66 is always changing, and why we should explore the old highway now, while we still can.
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T
he Route 66 Interpretive Center in Chandler, Oklahoma is, of course, designed to preserve the history of the “Mother Road,” but also to immerse visitors in an interactive experience that fosters not only an understanding of the past, but the current vitality and importance of the route today. The Center is located in a building that itself is a part of Oklahoma history. Built as a WPA project in the 1930s, the structure was an armory that housed the Oklahoma National Guard from 1937 until 1972. Originally designed by architect and National Guard major Bryan W. Nolan and built with local sandstone, the armory was built in two sections. The eastern half, much of which is now used as the Interpretive Center, was dedicated to offices, classrooms, and other smaller rooms. The Chandler Chamber of Commerce and the Oklahoma Route 66 Association are also now housed in this portion of the venue. The western half of the building was mostly an open drill hall and is these days used as an 8,000-square-foot event center. From the outside, the building is imposing but picturesque, and the perfect home for Chandler’s love letter to Route 66. By around 1971, the City donated the land for the new armory to the Guard, and in exchange, the Guard deeded the old location back to the City. Constructed for strength and longevity with hand-chiseled, twenty-inch thick stone walls, the building saw sporadic use for other purposes during the ensuing years, but eventually fell into disrepair. By the 1990s, even though it had been listed on the National Register of Historic Places, there was some discussion by the City Council of tearing the old facility down. However, in 1998, some local residents got together to save the historic structure. They formed the Old Armory Restorers, a name that pointedly described their purpose, and began a volunteer effort to repair and bring the old building back to life. The group was able to secure various grants and matching funds from state and federal agencies to assist with the expenses of the refurbishment. The chairman of the group, Howard Dickman, had the vision of creating a center that would celebrate the importance
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of Route 66. The group hired Hans Butzer, the architect responsible for conceiving the plans for the Oklahoma City National Memorial and Museum, as the principal designer for the center. His idea was to create a venue that complemented other Route 66 museums with a unique, sensory experience. In addition to photographs, artwork, and artifacts depicting life on Route 66, the center features several short films showcasing different facets of the highway’s importance. Creatively, visitors experience these films in sets of car seats corresponding to different eras of the road’s history, and even while reclining on vintage motel beds — a nod to the motor courts of the past. There’s also a longer film, shown in a more conventional theater setting, which chronicles a man’s journey on Route 66 in 1959, then the differences that he encountered on his return to the highway forty years later. The iconic highway is an attraction for people from every corner of the globe, and the Chandler Interpretive Center is doing its best to help visitors understand its importance. “We moved here in 1998 from Oklahoma City, and my husband was on the restoration committee,” said Executive Director Susan Pordos. “It was so neat to see the transformation. It just keeps getting better and better, and bringing more people to town. I’m very thankful because I know that there are a lot of places along the Route where businesses aren’t doing very well, and I’m thankful that we are. I was just looking at our visitors list, and we’ve had people from all over the United States, and from Spain, the Czech Republic, England, Belgium, and Ireland, all in one day. It’s amazing that people take off two or three weeks just to tour Route 66.” Oklahoma is home to some of the best Route 66 museums on the old highway and is blessed with an enviable amount of unique history and colorful roadside stops, but the Chandler Interpretive Center, rather than competing with the other, perhaps more familiar stops, blends nicely into the state tapestry, offering visitors and locals alike, the opportunity to interpret Route 66 through a slightly different lens. Its visionary promoters can feel proud that tiny Chandler is doing more than its part to celebrate America’s most iconic road.
Words by Mike Vieira. Image by David J. Schwartz – Pics On Route 66.
Interpreting the Mother Road
GET AWAY TO
e r o l Expin Claremore P R O U D LY PARTICIPATING IN
ROUTE 66 ROAD FEST OKC , J U N E 1 8-1 9 & TULSA, JUNE 25 - 26 Experience the unexpected on Route 66 in Claremore. Learn more at VisitClaremore.org/Route66
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I
n 1863, in the wilderness of Arizona’s Black Mountains, a man named Johnny Moss discovered large deposits of gold, a find that would gross over $700 million in today’s currency. As a result, he set up a few mining camps in the area — one named after himself, and one named for a young girl, Olive Oatman. Her brutal story of capture by Tolkepayas Indians and then release by the more friendly Mohave, is one that still fascinates people. These days, the mines of Oatman are no longer in use — there are still over 3,000 mineshafts in and around the town — but it does have something that many other places do not, and the camp’s 130 residents have wisely grabbed hold of an opportunity. In the early days of the mines, burros (Spanish for donkey) were highly depended on. They would carry heavy tools, draw wagonloads of ore, and were overall an extremely important link in the mining process. However, as technology advanced, the burros became obsolete with the advent of machines that could do their work. As there was nothing much for them to do, the miners simply let them loose to roam freely in the Black Mountains. Today, the descendants of those original burros still wander the streets of Oatman, greeting residents and welcoming tourists. “There are about 3,000 wild burros in the hills around Oatman,” said Leanne Toohey, the Secretary of the Oatman Chamber of Commerce and Director of the Historical Society. “They’re all truly wild; we don’t keep them in pens at all.” Protected by the Bureau of Land Management and well taken care of despite their feral nature, many of the local shops are themed around the animals. Local business owners are well aware of the draw to their little community that the donkeys have become. And the burros appear quite aware as well. They have undeniably made the streets of Oatman their own, blocking traffic, begging for food, and resting as they see fit, on the boardwalks or in the middle of the road. But residents and visitors don’t really mind. After all, this is what they’ve come to see. But, when the day’s commotion is over and the many vehicles have left, back to Kingman or onward to California,
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the animals simply make their way out of the town and back into the wilderness of the Black Mountains. The village then becomes quiet once more and its Old West atmosphere truly envelops its deserted streets and classic shops. Come the next day, they magically reappear and begin nuzzling visitors once again. There is one story though that has generated attention in many facets, from social media to literary and beyond: the tale of Walter. “Walter was born here in July of 2019. His mom was really young and rejected him, so he was left alone to die,” said Toohey. Burros are territorial and herd-oriented, and because he wasn’t raised by the herd, he has not been accepted. “It’s dangerous for him to walk around town by himself.” Oatman locals Brad and Kelly Blake found him that summer and took him in, raising him alongside their three German Shepherds. He acts like a dog now, and, because he’s domesticated rather than wild, he is usually referred to as a donkey. But his story is one that draws tourists from all around simply to meet him. Nearly every day, the Blakes livestream Walter and his German Shepherd siblings going for their evening walk together around their home. His story has inspired a children’s book series, the first of which is entitled Walter Finds a Home. “Walter is our local celebrity,” said Toohey. “His is such a feel-good story that people who have been following it on social media will come to Oatman just to see him.” Recently, the town went as far as characteristically naming Walter its mayor. An odd decision, perhaps, but as the figurehead of the town it does make some sense. Oatman has survived for close to 160 years by adapting to the challenges and opportunities that the community has encountered. In 2022, they are continuing to use their serene spot nestled in between Arizona’s picturesque Black Mountains, a place that Route 66 once ran straight through, and their unique mining history, to their enviable advantage. Much has changed in the world around them, but ask the burros and you will discover that much in their isolated world has remained just the same. And that is the way the residents — people and burros alike — enjoy it.
Image by Efren Lopez/Route66Images.
THE W ILD ASSES OF OAT M A N
The route 66 destination where all cars are cool!
Hosting the Kingman 66 Fest
October 14-15, 2022
EXPLOREKINGMAN.COM 1.866.427.7866
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PARTING SHOT
Tania ARMENTA
What did you want to be when you grew up? I knew from a young age that I enjoyed being creative and was interested in marketing. I even created some radio commercials that made it on the air at the age of 12. Most famous or noteworthy person you have ever met? Dwayne “The Rock” Johnson. What characteristic do you respect the most in others? Trustworthiness, integrity. Dislike in others? Being overly negative. What characteristic do you dislike in yourself? I can be a procrastinator at times. Who would you want to play you in a film based on your life? Helen Hunt. Talent that you WISH you had? The ability to expand time. Best part about getting older? Gaining wisdom and experience. What would the title of your memoir be? Grit, Kindness, Passion, and a Dose of Fret. What is your greatest extravagance? A good facial, and I love shoes and handbags. What is the weirdest roadside attraction you’ve ever seen? The Very Large Array, the Route 66 Musical Road, and the Four Corners Monument. If you could change one thing about yourself, what would it be? To fret a little less. What do you consider your greatest achievement? My kids, my family. Most memorable gift you were ever given? I loved all the handmade gifts my kids gave me when they were younger. What is the secret to a happy marriage? To grow together and respect your differences. Most memorable hotel/motel that you have stayed at? Hotel Andaluz in Albuquerque and the El Rancho Hotel in Gallup, NM. What breaks your heart? Seeing people suffer. What is the last TV show you bingewatched? Yellowstone and This is Us. What is still on your bucket list? To travel more. What do you wish you 88 ROUTE Magazine
knew more about? Geography and history. What is something you think everyone should do at least once in their lives? Travel to broaden the mind and experience. What fad or trend do you hope comes back? I love red lipstick, so I hope that is always deemed stylish. What does a perfect day look like to you? Sitting near some water and relaxing with good food and drink with my family—and likely some water sports mixed in. What is the most unexpected surprise about Albuquerque? That we have four distinct yet mild seasons and a gorgeous mountain that defines our city. What is your favorite spot to visit in Albuquerque? I am a big fan of patio dining with a good view of the Sandia Mountains. What would your spirit animal be? A Palomino horse. Which historical figure — alive or dead — would you most like to meet? Princess Diana. If you won the lottery, what is the first item you would buy? A trip for my family to take together. First big-ticket item that you ever purchased? A house. What meal can you not live without? I love green chile! Bizarre talent that you have that most people don’t know about? A pretty good memory. Not sure that qualifies as bizarre, but it helps with music lyrics for just about any song. What makes you laugh? Memorable inside jokes or remembering good times. Most unknown (but should be) stop in New Mexico? There are quite a few places that we’d like to keep a secret because they are just so good. Most important life lesson? An appreciation for loyalty and integrity. One thing you have always wanted to try, but have been too afraid to? Scuba diving. What do you want to be remembered for? Being true to my word.
Illustration: Jennifer Mallon.
Albuquerque is a city with a romantic name. As the largest town in New Mexico, it is a magical blend of both old and new, of history and diverse cultures and its fair share of Route 66 stops and destinations.The Old Town area is traditional and picturesque, dotted with little stores and shops, and lined with quaint narrow streets that lead to hidden treasures. Away from the historical parts of the town, Albuquerque is a bustling city where the longest street in town, Central Avenue, was once known simply as Route 66. In this Parting Shot, get to know Tania Armenta, the woman behind the marketing of this mesmerizing town that allows visitors to come face-to-face with life in the region.
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.®
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