ROUTE 66 UNRAVELED

Impressions and considerations by Howard R. Sauertieg

SCENES OF UTTER DESOLATION
Santa Rosa to Glenrio (New Mexico) - Chain of Rocks Bridge - Two Guns (Arizona)

ROADSIDE ATTRACTIONS
Largest Cross in the Western Hemisphere - Cadillac Ranch - "WestLaw Building" & The Smallest Jail in the West - Alanreed Jail - World's Largest Petrified Tree - Abraham Lincoln

HISTORIC DETOURS
Correo to Mesita (New Mexico)
Death Valley (California - Nevada)

MOST HAPPY TRAILS
Joplin to Arcadia (Missouri > Kansas > Oklahoma)
Sayre to Shamrock (Oklahoma > Texas)
Gallup to Indian City (New Mexico > Arizona)
Ash Fork to California Border (Arizona)
Essex to Victorville (California)

MORE is always on the way!

ALBUQUERQUE, N.M. (April 30, 2005) - "Distressed, out of cash and in disguise, a missing Georgia bride-to-be turned up on a seedy stretch of Route 66, told authorities Saturday she'd been abducted, and then copped to the truth: she fled the pressure of her looming wedding." (From the AP wire service)

Note: The AP photo of the payphone she used to call home shows the University Lodge, 3711 Central Ave NE. This is not a seedy strip of 66 at all; it's not far from Nob Hill and the UNM campus. Good times in that neighborhood -- until you run out of money. . . (H.S. 5/1/05)

Several years ago I requested from the American Automobile Association a Triptik, plotting the most convenient route from Harrisburg, PA to Phoenix, AZ. AAA prepared a 15-page booklet of little maps for me, covering every segment of the country through which I should pass. Their plan sent me southeast along I-81 to I-40, then westward to I-17, which connects Flagstaff, Arizona to Phoenix & I-10. (The Interstate Highway System, brainchild of President D. D. Eisenhower, is very impressive, at least on paper.) After three uneventful days of motoring I entered the Valley of the Sun in southcentral Arizona, there realizing that, while traversing nearly an entire continent, I had spoken with perhaps twenty people (motel clerks, gas-station attendants and fast-food teens primarily) and shifted direction exactly twice (a right turn in Tennessee, then a left at Flagstaff -- 1700 miles down the road from Knoxville). AAA efficiently provided me with the path of least resistance; ungratefully, I found my first journey across America surprisingly dull and oddly dehumanizing.

Two books subsequently opened my eyes to prospects of risky and thrilling cross-country travel, by means of obselete highways and byways. The first of these books, U.S. Army Captain Randolph P. Marcy's The Prairie Traveler, dates from the mid-19th century and was meant to aid pioneers in their westward migration. Theoretically, one could use the book to follow the Santa Fe Trail from my old home beside Monte Sol, in New Mexico, to the trail's eastern terminus in Independence, Missouri. The second book, more useful for automobile travel, was A Guide Book to Highway 66, by Albuquerque author Jack Rittenhouse. Published in 1946, it describes the entire route town by town, mile by mile, from Chicago to Santa Monica. The 66 Guide Book was recently reprinted by the University of New Mexico Press and sells for approximately 7 dollars in many shops along the Route.

See also the WPA American Guide Series, created circa 1940 by Workers of the Federal Writers' Project. Only American writers "on relief" were mandated to participate in the Project, though some "name authors" found room for their own contributions. The fascinating guided US 66 tours of Missouri, Kansas, Oklahoma, Texas, New Mexico (including an essential side-trip to Ácoma Pueblo), Arizona, and California are available through this site. Of these, only the Texas tour fails to do justice to the subject matter.

Ironically, I discovered the book the same day I discovered Route 66, during my AAA-endorsed trek described above. Somewhere in Oklahoma I pulled off of I-40 to stretch my legs and shake off the "highway hypnosis." This particular exit seemed inviting; at the head of it, high above the Interstate, stood an adobe-like structure, flying flags of many nations, which announced itself to be the Cherokee Trading Post. I entered the building and stood gazing, awestruck, at its contents.

Anyone who has ever been inside a Stuckey's can form a fairly accurate conception of what the Cherokee is like, though the Cherokee is much larger than any Stuckey's I've seen. The mercantile "philosophy" guiding these establishments is both simple and lucrative: Whatever people just passing through think they can buy here and only here, we'll provide in quantity. This being Oklahoma, a traveler already feels the itch to own an Indian blanket, a headdress, or a faux tomahawk. Tourists in general always want to find that perfect small gift for the folks back home, some postcards as well, and games, books and cassette tapes to stave off the monotony of the highway. Before you ask, the Cherokee Trading Post knows your needs and desires, and all of the dry goods mentioned above are abundantly overstocked. The finest clothes available here are made of leather, heavily laden with ornamental stitching, sporting tassels or fringe; the assembled wardrobes might be designed for a Las Vegas "Wild West" Spectacular, or, in smaller sizes, for all-American Halloween fun.

Even the most jaded tourist may feel compelled to buy at least one thing at the Cherokee, because it offers so many things to a tourist with money, and some of these things are truly unique and affordable. In my own case, I noticed amidst a chaos of Indian jewelry displays a long, neat shelf lined with ashtrays, shot glasses, designer dinnerware, buttons, stickers, T-shirts and books, all tied together with one common theme: "You are Here on Route 66!"

Is this possible, I thought? I'm on Steinbeck's Mother Road, the road of flight for the Dust Bowl refugees, memorialized by Woody Guthrie in song and story...

I fondled the wad of paper money in my bluejeans pocket as I glanced over the Route 66 dinnerware and shotglasses. I seriously started counting my ready cash when I saw the little paperback Guide Book to Highway 66 -- a facsimile reprint of the 1946 edition. Without even opening the book I determined to buy it, along with some necessities: a Route 66 ashtray and a "Mother Road" coffee mug. The whole purchase amounted to $15, which seemed like a fair exchange for these objects. I stuffed them into a duffle bag in my car and, very pleased with myself, re-entered I-40, thinking, "Here I am on Route 66... and I have been for who knows how long!"

I lived under this illusion for the next two days, until upon reaching Flagstaff I made my left turn southward. Leaving Flagstaff I was nursing a sense of loss, because although the old Route 66 had been improved into an Interstate, as it were, the Interstate barely hinted at once having been an exciting and sometimes hazardous passage, with roadside restaurants, stranded motorists, service stations and tourist traps marking the miles. The Cherokee Trading Post in Oklahoma, and Clines Corners, an all-purpose traveler's stop in eastern New Mexico, were real anomalies in this regard. (Both businesses actually lie along short strips of Route 66, which now serves as frontage road, or more accurately as a sort of driveway for these establishments.)

Enjoying a clear, dry summer in Mesa, Arizona, I read through the Rittenhouse Guide Book at poolside and decided to test its current accuracy (it's now 52 years old) on my next trip across the country. I first utilized the book in 1993 while traveling on the interstates from Albuquerque to St. Louis, concluding at some point (in Texas, I think) that Rittenhouse had consistently misread his odometer. The error was mine, for I believed then that I-40 and I-44 are old Route 66, repaved and widened. Generally, they are not.

I exited I-40 in Shamrock, Texas to refuel and discovered the real Route 66 -- a four-lane strip of pavement bisecting the town. I followed the road from Shamrock to Texola, Oklahoma, and found my distance -- 15 miles -- matching for the first time the mileage recorded in the Rittenhouse book. This fortunate correspondence between the road and the book recurred as I passed through (not around, as on the Interstate) Erick, Hext, Sayre, and Elk City. Between Elk City and Foss, the numbers went awry, and I mysteriously wound up back on I-40, muttering curses at nothing in particular. Soon I exited at Weatherford and found Route 66 a second time; from there I headed for Hydro, where I noticed my odometer matching up with Rittenhouse's once again. In addition, the pavement had turned pink!

To make a long story shorter, this little experience kicked off a 3-year project to trace the authentic highway. With help from the Rittenhouse book and more recent publications, I believe I succeeded for the most part, from Normal, Illinois to Needles, California. In fact I was almost entirely dependent on my guidebooks, which more than once led me astray and thus served to inspire this present project.

My main regret at this time is that I never ventured westward past Needles, into the heart of the Mojave Desert. My long-range Route 66 trips were almost always practically oriented; I used the highway to get from one place to another, to attend to current business. This helped give me a feel for what drivers had to contend with 40 or 50 years ago. Only rarely did I succumb to outright tourism. But one of the pleasures of Route 66 is its tendency to wander far afield, while inevitably leading to some place unique and memorable, and such memories are often practical, e.g. if you intend to write about the places you've been.

Route 66 today consists of tenuously linked stretches of state and interstate highway, muddy paths and gravel roads. Lengthy portions of the Route remain intact and afford some very pleasant driving. Short but noteworthy stretches are legion, particularly in the towns where 66 served as a "Main Street."

For readers who might wish to investigate odd, interesting or obscure places on Route 66, I have selected several which, for one reason or another, made a great impression on me. I have created my own categories for convenience, so my pages are grouped by the nature of their subject matter, rather than by standard geographical or political considerations.