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1997

Denver to KC

 

As promised, I slept through Denver and saw almost none of it save for the inside of a car wash and a drive down the Colfax Avenue strip (old US 40) on the way out of town. There was also breakfast and a thrift store moment, as well as my first Waffle House sighting of the trip, albeit too late for breakfast. On the down side, Denver provided the first functional spotting of a Hardee’s as well, although I did run across one in Salt Lake which had closed, no doubt to the delight of anyone who ever ate there.

One hundred sixty miles of Colorado farmland proved none too exciting. And then came Kansas…

 

It’s actually not such an awful drive, I guess. It’s just so damned LONG. Over 400 miles of minimal variation in scenery and many, many small towns. I was very excited when the first Stuckey’s appeared 35 miles in, right as I crossed into the Central Time Zone. A complete chicken-fried steak dinner for only $2.99 (and an ashtray on the table) almost made up for the fact that there were no extra large Stuckey’s T-shirts to be had.

Ever onward, yer humble host and the little car that could trudged forth into the heartland, through Colby and Hays and Salina and Russell, and eventually through the strip mall formerly known as Topeka, at speeds which rarely fell below 75, and with the air conditioner set on sub-arctic.

 

Finally, at 10:30, I arrived in the Missouri side of Kansas City and found my way to Country Club Plaza, where Bernie, my host for this part of the tour, manages an espresso bar (which is mercifully NOT a Starbuck’s). I sense good things about this trip to KC; tonight’s quick drive into the city more or less erased my five-year-old memory of Kansas City being completely creepy. Who knows what a little more time might do….

Kansas City

Y’know, if the weather in KC didn’t really suck, it might be on my short list of potential new homes. What a great place; last time I was here, I must have managed to miss everything good about it.

 

In my short visit, I was treated to an amazing tour of the city, courtesy of Bernie, a photo exhibit on urban decay (always a favorite pet obsession) courtesy of Bentley, the aforementioned photographer, barbecue at Gates, quality time in an abandoned reservoir, beer bust at the Dixie Belle, my first White Castle in almost a year, and the grand opening of the KC Jazz Museum. Oh yeah…I forgot the Peanut Butter Cap’n Crunch…

 

I lucked into lodgings with some people who are both very proud of their city and very well-versed in its mysteries. It’s not often I find myself sitting in a gallery after hours drinking beer and discussing urban form. I was pleased.

 

Biggies on the tour included the first Russell Stover candy store ever, a few roadside gems,North Kansas City, the President Hotel, and an industrial area (the West Bottoms?) which I want very much to colonize. KC has a tremendous number of great old buildings downtown — more than most cities of a similar size — and this is probably a result of the fact that the 80’s building boom largely bypassed the city. But I see signs that development may finally be threatening some of these gems. It’s a shame.

 

  

The Jazz Museum opening was a lucky coincidence, especially because I was thus spared the $6 admission fee. Having seen it, though, I would have probably paid it anyway. Great material, excellent presentation. the reservoir was a much cooler thing than you might imagine, although it worries me that it’s completely open to the world.

 

The only down sides to the visit were the unbelievable heat (SF tends to make one a bit of a weather wimp) and the fact that I was unable to connect with Gary or with Shane.

 

Random observations on Kansas City:

This is where I more or less started feeling like I was in the south again, despite the fact that it’s really in the midwest. The attitudes were similar, the accents were familiar. The bar scene was a mirror image of North Carolina, in that it seems very pervasive to the local “gay culture” (quotation marks directed at the term, not at Kansas City).

This was also the first place I began to see the urban blight and decay which seems to be hitting many midwestern cities very hard. A pattern of inner city abandonment and a lack of many “successfully” revitalized (read: “gentrified”) areas was a pattern which would become even more evident in St. Louis and Detroit. The abundant supply of land seems to make it easier simply to abandon the old and move outward rather than repair the perfectly usable buildings which already exist, and it’s a trend which seems even more pronounced in the midwest than on the coasts. Look for a separate piece on this soon.

Another odd midwestern pattern I first noticed around Kansas City: the practice of soliciting employment applications through radio ads, which even mention hourly pay rates for places like McDonald’s, etc. It seems usually to be low-status jobs who advertise this way. I’m not sure if it’s due to a low unemployment rate or a high one.

 

As Bernie mentioned, Kansas City has elevated the concept of “white trash” to an art form. I kinda liked it…

KC to St. Louis

 

As I left KC, I had breakfast at my first Waffle House. Grits are always a happy thing. The run through Missouri was not bad and the state flew by pretty quickly. After the west and Kansas, a few hills and trees were most welcome. Missouri skies during the day look as if a huge storm could develop at any second. It never happened.

Now I’ve made it to St. Louis. I’m reminded of just how much a nervous white boy I can be, simply because this town gives me the willies so far. I guess it’s a combination of the fact that my car seems to be a little cranky, and of the one or two wrong turns I made which put me on some fairly intimidating streets. I’d like it much better here with a tour guide. Somehow, though, I feel I will find the “courage” to venture back out later tonight.

 

I have to say that my entrance to the city along old Route 66 was a little disappointing. Only three motels on the whole stretch, none of them spectacular. Ted Drewe’s Frozen Custard was pretty cool, but I was a little disappointed to find that they don’t serve any food. I had a hankering for a hot dog, but had to settle for turkey with the old folks at a nearby cafeteria (but at least it was “free pie” night.)

Off to do whatever comes next now and finish it in time to take the car for a morning checkup and visit the top of the arch tomorrow.

 

Aah…Saint Louis. Ultimately, I found I was a bit unprepared for the level of decay I found there. It was staggering, as if the entire northern part of the city had just been abandoned. I’ve read about the phenomenon of entire urban blocks returning to grassland as the buildings which once occupied them burned or simply collapsed, but I’d never really seen it until now. Frightening. Once again, it’s as if the residents just decided one day to abandon a great city and go somewhere else. In areas like this, you find yourself being scared not of the people you see on the streets, but of the fact that you don’t see ANY people on the streets.

St. Louis to Madison

It was cloudy and rainy, so I skipped the top of the Arch and just sort of looked around downtown and along the remnants of Route 66 after taking the car in for a checkup. I also didn’t venture back out last night, more from a lack of energy than a lack of “courage”…

Once out of St. Louis, I hit Route 66 in a major way. After a stop at a little roadside “welcome center” in Hamel, staffed by a very nice and talkative woman, I was on the way. Two things amazed me: the excellent route markers supplied by the state of Illinois, and the friendliness of the people in the establishments along the old road. Once they learned I was traveling 66, I was treated to stories, photos, and (loved this part) free stuff! Excellent drive.

 

The Ariston Cafe in Litchfield is a definite Route 66 must. The food was great, and the owners showed me books and pictures and introduced me to the German tourists at the other end of the counter who were also traveling “the road”. Apparently, Route 66 tourism is big with Germans.

 

After a very long drive through the fertility of central Illinois, I finally arrived at Steven’s house in Madison. Very nice guy, very nice town. And since the heat had finally let up by this point, very nice sleep. This was a welcome thing.

Madison is not an exciting place by any stretch of the imagination, but I found plenty to do there and had a great time. Especially compared to last year’s visit, which was essentially a convenience store run during the Minneapolis trip.

Madison

  

They call Madison “the Berkeley of the East”, due to its leftist campus politics, etc. This was in fact the first city in the US to have a municipal gay rights ordinance on the books.

It’s definitely an attractive place. The city surrounds an isthmus between two lakes. Thus, there is s a very pronounced east and west side, and travel between the two is sometimes difficult thanks to the bottleneck caused by locating downtown on the isthmus.

 

Given all this, it’s interesting to see how strangely conservative the place appears on the surface. I saw much more “collegiate preppy” than “collegiate punk”. I didn’t really sample the gay scene here, being warned that most of the interesting nightlife options perished in the Hotel Washington fire a couple of years ago.

I did cruise the State Street campus strip a bit and also found a few thrift stores and an excellent used book store, Shakespeare’s, where I scored an original 1964 New York World’s Fair guidebook pretty cheap.

Definitely a nice enough place.

Madison to Chicago

This morning, I hit the road early en route to Milwaukee (which kept my interest for about half an hour, I’m disappointed to say) and then Chicago, which is where I now sit, in a creepy mall in the suburb of Skokie, waiting for Joseph to get off work so I can dump my stuff and begin the next round of the tour.

 

Chicago

 

Two and a half days in Chicago, and I’m not sure if the town ever once toddled, but I like it there anyway. So much so, in fact, that I’d consider moving there in an instant if (again) the weather weren’t so severe. I can deal with the cold and the snow; it’s the summers that would get me. Fortunately, at least on this visit, things were just right. Last time, it got a little cool and I was a little rushed.

 

I didn’t cover nearly as much ground as I’d have liked, simply because I just didn’t figure in enough time there. I was also unable to connect with Gary or Curt. But the accommodation and guided tour, courtesy of Joe, my host, were great. I predict another visit to the windy city very soon; I have to admit the place fascinates me tremendously.

 

Diving into Woolworth’s downtown proved to be rewarding. It’s really depressing that this American institution is about to disappear forever. I almost picked up a lunch counter stool for $35, but decided I didn’t really want to carry it around the country and back in my back seat. I’ll probably come to regret that decision.

There was also a visit to the first Ray Kroc McDonald’s franchise in Des Plaines. Contrary to popular belief, this was neither the first McDonald’s (that was in San Bernadino), nor the first McDonald’s franchise (which I believe was in Sacramento). It was, however, the beginning of the evil empire we know today as McDonald’s Corp.

 

Much-anticipated was my return to return to Big Chicks, which may be my favorite queer bar between New York and San Francisco. This time, I even met one of the owners. She was fairly big, but not huge.

The Chicago Reader is without doubt the best free weekly in the country, putting even the Village Voice to shame.

A few more highlights:

  • Dinner at the Wishbone, a “home-cooking” establishment which seems oddly out of place in a dark industrial district. Liked the restaurant. Hated that they were out of pork chops.
  • Boy-watching (and band-watching) at the Empty Bottle.
  • Street cruising on Winnemac Avenue (which I’m told is NOT common). Guess I’m just lucky…
  • Compulsively humming the theme from “Good Times” after driving through the Cabrini-Green projects in which it was set. This got a little embarrassing.
  • The “el”. Being short for “elevated”, it is not spelled “L”. Keep that in mind, please.
  • Yet more White Castle. Yumm…
  • A tour of the Chicago boulevards of urban planning fame.
  • Joe’s really cool 1972-era book on drag culture.

 

Chicago is an amazing place, which is unlike any other city of its size in the US. The fact that land was so abundant has resulted in an unusually sprawling city by east coast standards, but still a very dense and concentrated one compared to the rest of the midwest and west. The streetscapes are wonderful and colorful, the road system works, and driving around the city is a joy I might never tire of; there’s something to see around every corner, from neatly-maintained rowhouses to industrial wastelands to the severe decay of the south side projects. Like I said, Chicago just fascinates me.

 

And there was also my moment at the very start of Route 66 at Lakeshore Drive and Jackson Boulevard. It’s a little disorienting to do Route 66 out of sequence, but it’s better than not at all, I guess.

 
All in all, it was an eventful couple of days. And, after a drive through the depressing landscape of the south side and the Indiana suburbs, followed by a few hours of Indiana farmland, I have now successfully reached Indianapolis, where I’m living in the lap of luxury thanks to Bob. The Hoosier adventure begins in earnest tomorrow.

Chicago to Indy

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What is it about the midwest which fascinates me so? Maybe it’s the flatness or the greenness or the way that cities develop so differently than anywhere else in the country. Or maybe it’s the people there: friendly, giving, unpretentious people who’ve never met a stranger. Frankly, as I’ve said before, I often think the south is overrated in this department. Aah, but I’ll get back to this…

 

Indianapolis was great. Bob kept me in fine style at the Renaissance Tower due to an unhappy plaster moment in the guest room. During my two-plus days in the heartland of America, I was treated to a coast to coast tour of Indiana, from Terre Haute to Richmond. There were motels on Highway 40, tenderloins in Greensburg, a street fair in Indy, and cheap cigarettes everywhere.

  

Indiana more or less has created its own time zone by refusing to acknowledge Daylight Savings Time. This was a little odd as I changed my clock when I crossed into Eastern time, and then had to change it back when I realized the rules didn’t apply here.

Once in, though, my inner clock somehow managed to adjust, and I actually managed to get a fair amount of rest while still seeing many things. I feel I covered Indiana more thoroughly than just about anyplace else on the tour, thanks to an extra day and a determined host.

  

The first brought a street fair in Fountain Square, a historic commercial district near downtown Indianapolis. There were bands, cute boys, and a really cool store devoted to 50’s memorabilia which even contained a working bowling alley and soda fountain. The corner market with $1.60 a pack Camels was a big bonus too.

  

This night also brought my first look at neon Indianapolis. I was pleased. There is a quite respectable amount of 40’s/50’s/60’s roadside architecture here.

  

 

Snapshots of Indianapolis included some great motels and drive-ins, including the soon-to-be -demolished Al Green’s, the always appropriate White Castle, and Speedway IN, home of…surprise…the Indianapolis Motor Speedway. David’s pick du jour: few things could compare with a meal at Shapiro’s; I’m not sure why I was so surprised to find a really good Kosher deli here, but I’m glad it was!

Indianapolis

 

Indy is a classic midwestern city, sprawling and laid out on an unrelenting grid pattern with a few diagonal streets for variety. US40, the current alignment of the old National Road cuts through from east to west.

 

If you look hard enough, you can find neighborhoods form every period from the mid-1800’s to the present. Historic districts here have the typical midwestern sensibility (“people still have to live there so let’s not turn it into Disneyland”).

 

Indiana: Coast to Coast

Bob referred to the game plan for days two and three as “the coast to coast tour of Indiana”, and in fact we covered most of the state from east to west along old Route 40. We saw Terre Haute and Richmond, Brazil and Shelbyville, Greensburg and Greenfield (but not Greencastle or Greentown). There’s more here than you might imagine, from covered bridges to cute farm boys to courthouse squares. It actually kept my interest despite the fact that I’m a diehard city boy.

 

  

Major stops included:

  • Billie Creek Village and the covered bridges of Parke County.
  • Shelbyville, hometown of my host.
  • Greensburg, home of the courthouse with tree attached and a dang good piece of strawberry pie.

Meeting Bob’s family was a great aspect of the trip. I got much more a feel for what the people (and dogs) are like here than almost anywhere else I’ve been so far. I have to say that I liked everyone I met. It was almost as if I was visiting my own relatives, not only because I was treated like “one of the family”, but also because of the similar backgrounds. These are the kinds of people I grew up with.

  

Granted, there is a certain conservatism in Indiana, and I was a bit put off by the fact that there were people who offered no apologies about using terms like “nigger”, etc. But in general, this was not not nearly so oppressive as in the south (or even in large chunks of “progressive” California).

I guess (racism aside) it’s a more informed and independent sort of conservatism, I felt that people were more familiar with the issues as opposed to mouthing doctrine supplied by the local fundamentalist minister. Thus, I was able to respect it a bit more, despite my leftist leanings. Agree or not, one definitely gets the feeling that people think for themselves here, rather than blindly submitting to dogma like in North Carolina…or San Francisco…

My preference is to believe that Dan Quayle is merely an aberration (sort of like Jesse Helms in my home state). I have to believe this. It is a necessity…

 

A few post-mortems:

  • Them Hoosier boys are cute! I was able to capture at least some photographic evidence of this.
  • A pork tenderloin in Indiana is a far different thing in Indiana than in San Francisco. Vive le difference!
  • NO, I did not visit Bloomington and take pictures of little pink houses. My apologies to those who were looking forward to this.