Cowboy Country

June 6, 2025 steveboilard7 Comments

In all my jaunts along the various blue highways criss-crossing the map, it never ceases to amaze me how varied this country is. Just over the past week I’ve gone from coastal New England, through the green hills of the Berkshires, into lighthouses on the Great Lakes, through the rust belt of South Bend and Chicago, between the manicured fields of Iowa farms, and under the leaden skies of the Great Plains.

In all honesty, there hasn’t been a single segment that I haven’t enjoyed, that I haven’t experienced beauty, that I haven’t met wonderful people. And yet, today’s segment was characterized by lots of long, straight stretches at freeway speeds across the plains of Nebraska. Faithful reader Brian W. had encouraged me to “enjoy the unique look and solitude” of western Nebraska. And I did. The sheer scale of its open space forces one to relax, and the solitude is conducive to contemplation.

US 20 is the only major east-west route in the northern half of Nebraska. (Interstate 80 runs along the lowest third, through Lincoln and Omaha. For this reason, there has historically been a good amount of services along US 20. I encountered a surprising number of old garages and gas stations that have been preserved or restored to their vintage look. I peeked in the garages and saw walls lined with fan belts, racks of oil, piles of tires, and other evidence that these places still do business.

But what I appreciate more than the restored buildings are the historic roadside attractions that have just kept going, year after year, with just enough maintenance to stay in the game. That seems to be more the rule out in this part of the country. I’m sure part of the reason is that the local economy can’t support the wholesale replacement of infrastructure unless there’s a good reason. And there’s not enough population to entice national chain stores to locate their businesses here. The result is a “time warp” situation in many of these towns. Here are a few examples:

“Big John’s” had been a local burger chain in the 1960s that never caught on. This is evidently the only remaining sign–some sixty years old. The current business is an independent cafe in Ainsworth, Nebraska (pop: 1,600).

In the town of Lusk, Wyoming (pop: 1,500) a redwood water tower still stands next to the railroad tracks. It dates to 1886, and used to provide water to the steam locomotives. They moved it once, in 1919, in line with changes in the railroad. The Tower is now something of an icon for the town, but it’s authentic and as you can see in the photo, the whole scene could be from a century ago.

The Lusk Light and Power Plant also looks to be a historical relic, but I couldn’t find any information on it

The Plains theater in Rushville, Nebraska (pop: 784) dates back to 1914. It’s gone through a number of different iterations, including a movie theater and a church. Today it is a live theater venue.

But let’s get back to US 20 itself. For the first 250 miles of today’s drive, the Cowboy Trail (that I mentioned in yesterday’s blog) runs alongside the highway. You’ll recall that the Cowboy Trail used to be a railroad line that’s been replaced with a hiking/biking path. I was surprised that I didn’t see a single person on the trail, but it’s still pretty new and maybe word hasn’t gotten around. But it’s interesting to see how all the old railroad bridges have been replaced with pedestrian bridges.

The lower pilings are left over from the railroad; the new wood slats on the upper sides were added for the Cowboy Trail.

*The old railroad roadbed has been covered with crushed granite.*

The reassuring monotony of the plains and the cloudy sky, with the Cowboy Trail close by at my right, had something of a lulling effect that required periodic infusions of coffee. But suddenly, in the mid-afternoon, I spotted some sharp buttes rising from the plains. These were most welcome after The Unbearable Flatness of Being that characterized most of the day’s drive.

I stopped at the nearby town of Crawford, Nebraska (pop: 1,000) to see if I could learn more about the buttes. My first stop was to get a refreshing beverage from a young entrepreneur named Case.

Then, in the center of town, I found the local tourist bureau/museum. The door was open wide, and as I entered I was greeted by a docent named Cathy. She didn’t have a lot to say about the buttes, but she did encourage me to visit Fort Robinson, just a couple of miles up the road. Her father had been stationed there once upon a time, and a couple of family heirlooms are in the lodge.

*Cathy is retired and volunteers at several places in town.*

Fort Robinson has been around since the 1870s, playing a major role in the so-called Indian Wars, as well as the First and Second World Wars. The “Buffalo Soldiers” were stationed here, horses and mules were bred here, military canines were trained here, and it even served as a POW camp for German prisoners. The army decommissioned the fort in 1947, and it was converted into a state park in 1956.

1905 Headquarters Building, now repurposed as a visitors center.

*One of a number of large horse barns, from when Ft Robinson was a “remount depot.”*

Per Cathy’s suggestion I visited Fort Ross and tracked down the family heirlooms–these consisted of a “shadow box” with mementos from Cathy’s father, and a large art piece shaped like a buffalo, made entirely of buffalo nickels that Cathy’s family had collected from a bar they used to run.

Cathy’s father was on the camp’s polo team.

A small fortune in buffalo nickels. (Apologies for the unavoidable reflection in the glass.)

A kind lady at the lodge helped me locate these items…and she turned out to be Cathy’s sister Diana. The resemblance is obvious.

By now it should be pretty obvious that most of the towns along this stretch of Route 20 are quite small and spaced far apart. It’s certainly a big change from California, where I come from. The population density in California is 254 people per square mile. In Nebraska it is one tenth of that, at 25 people per square mile. In Wyoming it’s 6 people per square mile. You have to wonder what kind of impact these differences have on a person’s sense of self, sense of society, sense of independence.

The smallest town that I passed today was Lost Springs, Wyoming. For some reason that I can’t fathom, they really leaned into their smallness when they commemorated the country’s bicentennial in 1976. At that time they erected this marker (which to me looks like a tombstone) that declares they are the “smallest bicentennial town.” According to the US Bicentennial Commission, in 1976 Lost Springs –with a population of 7–was the smallest incorporated town in the entire country.

They’re even smaller now:

BRIDGE CORNER

Near the town of Valentine, NE (pop: 2,600) a roadside sign directed me to a “historical bridge.”

A marker explained that this is the Bryan Bridge, which is the country’s only “arched cantilever truss bridge connected by a single pin.” Whatever that means. It was also designated “the most beautiful steel bridge of 1932 in class C,” which sounds like it might be a narrow category, but what do I know?

To test the “most beautiful” claim, I scrambled down the embankment and risked life and limb and tick bites to take the below photo from the bank of the Niobrara River.

*Most beautiful of all the class Cs in 1932? You be the judge.*

BREW OF THE DAY

There aren’t many brew pubs along this stretch of US 20. But I did find a place called “Cowboy State Brewing Company” in Glenrock, Wyo (pop: 2,400). Long-time reader Peter D. had recommended the town to me, as it was his father’s and his grandmother’s home town.

Now, Cowboy State is not your typical California-style brew pub. It’s a bar that dates back to the mid-1970s, with dim lighting, pool tables, and a bar stocked with gin and vodka. The place reeks of cigarette smoke, which might be because Nebraska allows smoking in bars, or maybe because 50 years of smoke can’t be eradicated from the pores of the room.

*The 1970s called and they want their bar back.*

Now if you think this doesn’t sound like my kind of brew pub, you’re right. I asked the bartender, Billie, if this was really a place where they brewed their own beer. She said yes, but then admitted that they “had to let the brewer go,” and thus they aren’t making beer right now. Nevertheless, she still had some of the Cowboy Cream Ale that they had made for the State Fair last year. Did I want to try it? Now, I’m not sure what the shelf life is for beer, but I suspect it’s somewhat less than a year. Nevertheless, I told her to pour me one–I had a blog to write!

Before I get to the beer, let me just say that Billie is one of those people who make you feel welcome at a bar. She came here from Louisiana just about a year ago, and took over as the manager. She says she puts in about 70 hours a week, but she’s still all smiles and energy.

However, the beer wasn’t very good. Maybe it’s because it was old. Maybe it’s because it’s a weird recipe. Maybe it’s because it’s just not my style. But to me it tasted like Budweiser–that kind of skunky, watery, feed-grainy, metallic taste that mystifyingly is popular with 32 percent of American beer drinkers. I can’t in good conscience give it any stars. But I do need to acknowledge that it was popular at the Nebraska State Fair and is a favorite with the locals. So maybe it’s just me.

I should point out, though, that the beer was only $2 (which is just 50 cents more than Case’s lemonade). And Billie gave me a branded beer cozy!

Breweries · Cars · movie theaters · Road trips

Wow! Great Lakes!

June 3, 2025June 4, 2025 steveboilard4 Comments

Today’s drive along highway 20 was reflective. The route took me from Toledo Ohio (at the west end of Lake Erie), around the bottom of Lake Michigan, and up to the town of North Lake, Illinois, which is just west of Chicago. Here’s a map:

Though it doesn’t show up on this map, Route 20 passes through the city of South Bend, Indiana (pop: 103,400). Named after the southernmost bend of the St. Joseph River, South Bend has an interesting history. It’s been home to Notre Dame University since 1842 (Go Fighting Irish!), of course. But ten years later the Studebaker Brothers came to town and established a very successful wagon manufacturing plant that, around the turn of the century, switched to building automobiles. Studebaker was one of the larger “independent” auto manufacturers, and at its peak it employed 22,000 workers in South Bend. It would be stretching things to say that South Bend was a company town, but Studebaker certainly was a major contributor to the local economy.

*Studebaker factory in South Bend, circa 1940.*

Some of you young ones might never have heard of Studebaker; it closed its doors in South Bend in 1963, and then shut its last remaining facility in Canada three years later. But I actually owned one. It was my first car, which I bought in 1978. Behold!

*Parked at stately Boilard Manor around 1980.*

I owned that car for about 25 years, and then, in a rash act, I sold it. Recently I’ve been wondering if I should have kept it. I’ve even had dreams about it. And then, a couple of days ago, I spotted what at first glance appeared to be my old car on the side of US 20 in New York:

A couple of telltale signs convinced me this wasn’t the same car. But it was eerie nonetheless. And it was eerier still to see a version of the car again today, in the Studebaker National Museum in South Bend:

But I digress. My point was that Studebaker was a major contributor to South Bend’s economy. And so when it shut down in the 1960s, it had a major negative impact on unemployment. It’s estimated that, at the time of its closure, Studebaker employed two thirds of the city’s African-American labor force. To make matters worse, South Bend was already suffering from the general effects of deindustrialization that were besetting towns throughout the Rust Belt.

*Terra Cotta logo that once graced the Studebaker factory.*

South Bend gained national prominence with presidential candidate Pete Buttigieg as mayor from 2011-2018. He and others have worked to gain investment in the city’s businesses and infrastructure. But I can report from my visit today there’s still a long way to go. Block after block has vacant and dilapidated buildings. The area around the old Studebaker factory is especially rough. Most of the Studebaker buildings have been torn down, but a few, such as Studebaker’s main administration building, still stand, albeit to no good purpose.

*Used to be the nerve center of the Studebaker empire.*

Here’s another random, old building on Michigan Street that appears to be serving no purpose. It caught my eye for two reasons: First, because of the tubular external fire escape.

*I wonder if this is where the McDonald’s folks got the idea for their Playplace (TM)?*

*And Potter seems to still be in business today!*

Second, and more importantly, the building caught my eye because of this barely-legible painted signage facing the road:

“US 20” is still clearly visible. (Less clearly, it seems to read “7 MICH ST.”) Funny thing, though, I had to turn off US 20 to drive down this road (on my way to a brew pub. More on that later). It turns out that US 20 used to be routed through here, before being re-routed around the downtown in the 1960s.

Now, some of you know my pet theory that you can tell a lot about the health of a town by its historic theaters. Almost all older towns have had a theater or two along the way. And almost all theaters declined with the advent of television and VCRs and such. But what did the towns do with their old theaters? Did they knock them down to make way for “progress”? Did they let them decay? Did they repurpose them? The answers to these questions tell a lot about the priority of the arts in the community, the extent of civic pride in the city’s history, the functionality of local government, and so forth. And I’m happy to report that South Bend has restored and preserved its beautiful, large, historic Morris Theater. The original theater opened in 1922 as a vaudeville house. It’s now a performing arts center that seats over 2,500. It’s home to the South Bend Symphony Orchestra, and it hosts broadway shows.

*And the inside is even more beautiful than the outside!*

What’s more, South Bend has a second historic theater that it’s actively working to restore. The 1919 Blackstone-State theater was operating on and off up until 2016. As of a couple of months ago, the South Bend Redevelopment Commission approved the City’s purchase of the building for $800,000. Presumably, as a city-owned property, it will have more stability going forward.

So I judge South Bend to be on an upward trajectory, despite the significant challenges it still faces.

I’m less bullish on the next major town I drove through today: Gary, Indiana. I became quite depressed just passing through. Broadway was once a grand boulevard, but now it looked like it’d been bombed, with half-standing buildings, vacant lots, and rubble lining the street. People roamed the sidewalks in a fashion that seemed aimless and hopeless. And, most damningly, the historic theaters looked like they weren’t ever going to be saved.

*Detail of the marquee. That street lamp looks good, at least.*

While I was taking a picture of the Palace theater (above) a man who was passing by stopped to tell me about how it used to be his favorite movie theater. “Apple” (as he called himself) used to sit up in the balcony and watch double features in the 1960s. He was sorry to see it go. Now, he says, he lives in an “old people’s home” and walks past the theater every day on his way to the corner store. He was a kind and sympathetic man, but he didn’t seem to have any spark in his eyes.

Now, you probably know Gary Indiana for one of two things: the song from The Music Man (sung by a young Ron Howard), or the birthplace of Michael Jackson.

In fact, while driving through the town I passed a sign directing me to the Jackson House. I dutifully followed the sign and ended up on Jackson Street (whose name, I assume, was changed after the Jacksons became famous. Otherwise it would be too much of a coincidence!) The neighborhood is severely run down, and seems to be populated by people who haven’t had a break. There’s no obvious signs of graffiti or gangs or drugs or anything like that; just poverty and neglect. Many houses are boarded up and/or abandoned.

But then you come to the Jackson place. It’s a tidy and tiny (two-bedroom) bungalow, in which the eleven Jackson family members somehow lived. It makes me glad to know they hit the big time, but my heart goes out to the rest of the folks around here who didn’t.

*Memorials in the driveway. I don’t think I’d hire Diamond Yard Bricks to do any installation work.*

Anyway, I left Gary feeling sad for a dead city and the people who still live in it.

After passing through Gary Indiana, Route 20 skirts around the edge of Chicago. I happen to love Chicago as a city, but visiting it is a commitment, and this is not that kind of road trip. So I stuck to Route 20, skirting around the outer edges of the city. I’ve parked myself in a nondescript town called North Lake, about 13 miles west of Chi-Town. Tomorrow I should finish crossing Indiana.

BEER OF THE DAY

I nabbed my BOTD at the South Bend Brew Werks. It’s another example of how South Bend is on the way up: It’s a nice, bright, new space with art on the walls and a big outdoor patio. They’re part of an energetic business district near the Morris Theater. They take their beer and their food seriously.

My server–Jason–was incredibly knowledgeable about beer, not just the stuff they brew but also the beers at breweries throughout the region. He’s also a rubber-stamp artist, and his work is currently hanging in this restaurant.

On Jason’s recommendation, I had the “Disinhibited Ep. IV: A New Haze.” It’s a double hazy IPA.

It’s a highly drinkable beer, though it clocks in at 8 percent ABV. The appearance, as you would expect, is hazy. And as an IPA, it has the expected piney hoppiness and medium carbonation. But the flavor is more interesting than your average IPA. It has notes of grapefruit and dandelion, balanced by the aforementioned hops. There’s just a suggestion of sweetness. Overall, the flavor is more sunny than bright, and more juicy than refreshing. It’s a very solid effort and manages to stand out in a world dominated by endless IPAs. 4 stars.

COINCIDENCE CORNER:

Yesterday I posted a picture of the Christmas Story house in Cleveland. Today I saw this in the corner of the South Bend Brewing Company:

Also, in April I did a blog post about the stretch of the Lincoln Highway that runs near my home in El Dorado County, CA. Today I saw this on a street corner in downtown South Bend:

California history · movie theaters · Road trips · trains

Tale of two cities

April 14, 2025 steveboilard3 Comments

Today I took a ride down to the city of Kingsburg, CA (pop: 13,000). Kingsburg sits on highway 99, smack-dab in the middle of the state.

*Kingsburg is the big red dot blotting out Fresno.*

Alert readers will recall that I came through Kingsburg last fall and fell in love with its historic railroad depot. I ended up making a small contribution toward their “1238 Project,” in which they are taking possession of a 1918 Southern Pacific steam locomotive that’s been sitting in a park in Fresno since 1956. As a bonus, my humble contribution earned me membership in the “Friends of the Historic Kingsburg Depot,” which holds monthly meetings about their activities at the depot. So today I said “What the heck; I’ll make the 200-mile drive for this evening’s meeting and get the latest update on the 1238 Project.”

I was running a little ahead of time, so I killed an hour and a half exploring the city of Fresno (pop: 546,000), which is about 20 miles north of Kingsburg. Now, Fresno is a much-maligned city, frequently appearing on lists of the worst places to live in California. It has above-average levels of homelessness, drug use, air pollution, and unemployment. Like much of the Central Valley it experiences extreme temperatures in the summer and winter. And much of the city comprises a run-down urban core surrounded by ugly sprawl. But despite all this, Fresno has a plucky population and a rich history that is, to greater and lesser extents, being preserved. Here are just a few examples that I saw today:

*Civic pride is evident in this mural on Tuolumne Street in downtown Fresno.*

Fresno has several historic movie palaces in various states of preservation. Two of them (the Crest and the Tower) share names with two semi-famous theaters in Sacramento. Fresno’s 1948 Crest Theater is in particularly rough shape; the exterior is pretty shabby, and the air conditioning doesn’t work. And yet, they show movies every weekend for five bucks!

I wasn’t able to get inside, but I’m told the interior is in better shape than the exterior. And I do appreciate that they’re keeping the theater open, even though they obviously have a lot of deferred maintenance. It’s lovable in a “little engine that could” kind of way.

Next up is the Tower Theater. It’s the centerpiece of Fresno’s “Tower District”–an artsy neighborhood with coffee shops, art galleries, restaurants, and other businesses that give the area a modest but palpable energy. It’s still a little gritty, but it’s definitely a viable destination for an evening out. The Tower Theater itself is an art deco movie palace built in 1939, that now serves as a 761-seat performing arts center.

I didn’t have time to stick around til nightfall, but I’m told the Tower’s neon dominates the district at night. Here’s a photo from a local Fresno news station.

We now move to the most striking movie palace I saw today in Fresno: The Warnors Theater. Opened in 1928, it was owned by the renowned Alexander Pantages. (Surely you’ve heard of the Pantages Theater in Los Angeles?) The theater originally was called The Pantages Theater, then changed to The Warner Theater in 1929, when Warner Brothers bought it. Warner Bros sold it in the 1960s, and the new owners changed the “e” to an “o” in a half-hearted concession to trademark requirements.

*Sometimes more is more. Or Moor, if you catch my drift.*

*Box office and lobby. Check out that ceiling!*

Warnors has a large stage, seating for 2,100 people(!), and the original 1928 Robert Morgan pipe organ. The theater serves as a popular performing arts center bringing many national and international acts to Fresno.

So, I think it’s fair to say that Fresno is making an effort to support the arts. I think this is a key component to revitalizing the city.

I did encounter other examples of civic pride–here I’ll share just two more. First, there’s an impressive, beautifully-restored 1894 water tower. Originally owned by a private water utility, the tower’s 250,000-gallon tank was drained in the 1960s and sold to the city. It was restored about 25 years ago, and has served as a visitor’s bureau and, most recently, as the Frida Cafe.

My final example of Fresno’s civic pride is its historic railroad depot. It was constructed by the Atchison, Topeka & Santa Fe in 1899. Santa Fe stopped passenger service to the station in 1966 and completely shuttered the station in the early 1990s. Fresno civic leaders, God bless ’em, purchased the decaying the station in 2003, spent 6 million bucks restoring it, and re-opened it for Amtrak service in 2005.

*Fresno Depot, looking a bit like a La Quinta Inn.*

Just as I was leaving, the San Joaquin arrived. There was a good crowd of people boarding at the platform. The station seems to be a very solid transportation hub for the city.

And this mention of trains brings us back to the original purpose of this trip. Twenty minutes after I left Fresno I arrived in Kingsburg, just in time for the Friends of the Historic Kingsburg Depot meeting. It’s a friendly and dedicated group of people, all donating their time toward the betterment of their community. And I think that’s the moral of today’s blog post.

At the meeting I learned that the 1238 steam locomotive is scheduled to be trucked to Kingsburg on two flatbed trailers in early May. I hope I’ll be able to return for that operation, which is something you don’t see every day. I’ll leave you with a photo I took of the space next to the depot that volunteers are preparing for the steam locomotive, complete with some fancy red fencing. Beneath that is a photo of the locomotive itself, still cooling its heels in Fresno, waiting.

bridges · movie theaters · Road trips · trains

Blob Blog

April 17, 2024 steveboilard1 Comment

By coincidence, I recently received as gifts two books concerning the Lincoln Highway. The first, which I read last year, is The Lincoln Highway by Amor Towles. It’s a fictional account about a trip along the fabled transcontinental route. The second book, which I’m currently reading, is American Road by Pete Davies. It’s a true account about a caravan of military vehicles which traversed the Lincoln Highway in 1919, in an effort to raise awareness and promote the paving of the route.

Established in 1913, the Lincoln Highway was the country’s first transcontinental route for automobiles. It began as a patchwork of existing stretches of roadway, most of which were just rutted dirt roads. Over time it got re-aligned and paved, with gas stations and diners and motels dotting the roadside. Today, most of the old Lincoln Highway is long gone, superseded by modern interstates.

In California, I-80 roughly traverses the old route. There are a few markers and memorials a long the way. (A couple of years ago I hiked a crumbling, original section of the road near Donner Pass. Here’s the blog post and here’s the photo:)

I also discussed the Lincoln Highway and included a photo of an original Lincoln Highway marker in this blog post.

I bring all this up because today I drove around a hundred miles of the old Lincoln Highway route heading west out of Philadelphia. Most of the original route is now U.S. Route 30. I was hoping to see some ancient infrastructure and roadside structures from the Old Days, but most of the route today looks like any other two-lane highway. Yet I did spy a few elements that date back to the early 20th century.

*1922 bridge and (presumably) much older building. These were surely around for the Lincoln Highway’s early years.*

*Phone booth in Compass, PA might not have been around for the original Lincoln Highway, but it qualifies as historic.*

When I eventually arrived in Downingtown (pop: 7,900) I was feeling a bit peckish. I stopped at the mid-century Downingtown Diner, whose sign announces that it’s the “Home of the Blob.”

*For the 90 percent of the country that isn’t familiar with the movie, is “home of the blob” a winning slogan for a diner?*

You remember The Blob, right? It was a 1958 science fiction film that featured a young Steve McQueen in his first starring role. The plot (such as it is) involves a giant, carnivorous blob of Jell-O from outer space. Do yourself a favor and watch the trailer; there’s even a shot of the diner.

I went into the diner and was greeted by Shannon. I quizzed her about the Blob connection, but surprisingly (shockingly, even) she admitted to never having watched the movie. She did inform me, however, that the diner building was replaced since the movie was made. (“But the basement is original!”)

*Though not the original, it* does look a lot like the diner in the movie.

The Downington Diner doesn’t shrink from it’s B-movie connection. Not only is The Blob featured on their roadside sign, but the menu features a “Blob Special.”

*I couldn’t bring myself to order the Blob Special.*

Shannon, who was as friendly and helpful as they come, instead whipped me up a delicious mint chip milkshake. (“It’s green, like the Blob!”) Which is true, if you go by the green blob on their sign. But it should be noted that the Blob in the movie is red.

*Seriously the best milkshake I’ve ever had.*

Now that I was fortified with 1,700 calories of blended ice cream, there was only one thing to do: Head over to the nearby town of Phoenixville (pop: 20,000), where the Blob’s famous Movie Theater Scene was filmed. (You saw it in the trailer, above.) Phoenixville was founded in 1849, and for years the local economy was centered on the Phoenix Iron Works. The company closed in the 1980s, and Phoenixville suffered a economic decline. But in recent years the city has been transformed, and today it appears charming and downright prosperous.

I sensed a good deal of civic pride in the spotless business district and beautiful homes. I even encountered a group of students from the local college who were spending the morning sprucing up the public spaces with rakes and brooms. These kids are seriously the best–energetic, outward-oriented, positive, friendly.

But let’s get back to the reason I came to Phoenixville: to see the theater from The Blob. The place looks practically unchanged from its 1958 movie appearance.

The Colonial Theater actually dates all the way back to 1903, when it started out hosting Vaudeville shows. Showbiz greats like Mary Pickford and Harry Houdini have graced its stage. It’s gratifying that the good people of Phoenixville have seen fit to preserve and support this historic venue. In fact, every summer the town and the theater throw a major festival called Blobfest. I’m seriously thinking about coming back in July…

It was now time to return to the Lincoln Highway, which in the form of US Route 30, cuts through Pennsylvania’s picturesque Amish county. Farm houses, rolling hills, and horse-drawn buggies constitute the main scenery. I figure these scenes are pretty much unchanged from when the Lincoln Highway was established over a century ago.

Of course, when one travels through Pennsylvania’s Amish country one is obligated to take advantage of the Intercourse photo-op.

*There’s got to be a story behind the name change.*

After Intercourse I had a cigarette, and then headed into Strasburg, which is a well-known railroad Mecca. In addition to several impressive railroad museums, a steam-powered railroad, a model railroad display, and antique stores jammed with railroad memorabilia, Strasburg has a motel comprised entirely of old, full-size railroad cabooses.

*Not your father’s motel. (Well, not my father’s, at least.)*

When I was a lad I begged my dad to let us stay at a place like this while we were on a driving vacation. What could be more cool than sleeping in a railroad cabooses? Dad said no, however, figuring that the fun factor (such as it was) wouldn’t justify the compromises in terms of comfort. But today I made a different calculation. So, over a half-century later, I’m finally spending the night in a caboose. It’s actually a nice little room, and the funky floorplan and high windows really lends a certain charm. Plugs, I’m surrounded by other railcars and a full-size steam railroad. I admit, however, that if my wife were with me this would not be an option.

BsOTD

Today’s Brews (note the plural) Of The Day come from Spring House Brewing Company in Strasburg. Their tavern on Main Street is comfortable and inviting, with ancient dark-wood paneling and a dark-wood stairway to unexplained upstairs rooms. My server (Dani) didn’t know how old the building is, but the ripples in the front window glass suggest at least a century.

The brewery had 13 of their own beers on tap, and I found it hard to choose just one. So I ordered a flight of four. And then, I ordered another flight of another 4. What follows, then, are my eight Brews of the Day.

*Server Dani, who delivered my 8 Brews of the Day.*

*My first 4 Brews of the Day (in order from left to right)*

Empty Terrarium: Nitro Fruited IPA (6.3% ABV). Watery. Boring. A slight tinge of citrus but no real flavor and no fizziness. It’s like a chocolate Easter Bunny after the first, decapitating bite: no head and not hoppy. 1 star out of 5.

Commander Salamander: Fruited sour (4.5%). Seems to start with the same base as the Empty Terrarium, but somehow it’s fizzier (without really becoming hoppy). The sour taste is quite enjoyable–it’s fairly understated; more like sour apple gum than a lemon Warheads (TM) hard candy. This would be satisfying on a warm day (which today is not). It’s one of those beers that you should only have one of–not because of the alcohol, but because the second pint could be cloying. For the first glass, though, it’s quite satisfying. 3.5 stars.

Tasty Little Devil: Imperial Milk Stout (7.5%). Characteristic sweetness and creaminess of a milk stout. More roasty than chocolatey, But a slight peppermint note on the finish evokes a Christmas hot chocolate. Well balanced. I give it 3.5 out of 5 stars. I would have given it a 4 if they upped the alcohol at least to 8 percent, which in my mind is the floor for anything called “Imperial.”

Kerplunk! Imperial chocolate stout (8.0%). The punctuation is part of the name, presumably taken from the Milton Bradley game. A bit harsher than the Tasty Little Devil. But more importantly, this doesn’t really attain its potential. Reminds me of brownie mix stirred into water. 2 stars.

Painted Pony: English style brown ale (5.4%). Nicely balanced. A bit on the bitter side (which maybe is the “English style” coming through?) Definite chocolate notes. Good backbone. The kind of beer you’d enjoy at the neighborhood pub at the end of your 12-hour shift in the mines. 3 stars

The Angler: Cali Pale Ale (5%). Definitely the California style. Clean, citrusy, bright. It’s perfect for those of you who like this style of beer. Which I don’t. But I know quality when I taste it, so I’ll give it four stars.

Demon Squirrel: Amber lager (5.3%). Now this is interesting. Malty, with some hints of fruitiness. Very balanced hops. Heavy carbonation adds dimensionality and compensates for the neutral finish. Flavorful without being overpowering. 4.5 stars.

CASK Mild Party: Dark mild (3.3%). The name of the style (“dark mild”) says it all. Intentionally served at room temperature, this is a dark-colored beer with absolutely no structure, backbone, carbonation, or even flavor. It has the consistency and mouthfeel of dishwater. It tastes like watery tea that’s been left in a styrofoam cup on the dirty Formica counter for a day and a half. And it can’t even deliver a mild buzz. It’s the kind of beer that makes you question your faith in God. 1/2 star.

Cars · movie theaters · Road trips · trains

A Stew-pendous Day

January 9, 2024 steveboilard5 Comments

This morning I awoke around 7:15, and looked out my window to see the world still cloaked in darkness. I figured it was still too early for the sun, since I was on the western edge of the eastern time zone. After my morning ablutions I returned to the window, but it was still dark outside. I looked up to see a blanket of black clouds covering the sky. The sun was entirely AWOL.

Undeterred, I got in my rental car and began to head out of Albany. But as I was passing through the historic downtown what do you think I saw? Yes, it was another Union Station. For those of you keeping score at home, I’m now up to four on this trip.

Albany’s Union Station was constructed in 1913. It replaced an earlier depot that had been built in 1857, but wasn’t able to accommodate the vast increase in rail traffic. Union Station continued to serve trains until 1971, after which it was slated to be razed. However, preservationists in the town mobilized to protect the building from the wrecking ball that was knocking down so many old buildings in the 1970s. Union Station was placed on the National Register of Historic Places in 1975.

The station was renovated and became a museum. It was part of a larger “Heritage Plaza” project that includes several other historic buildings, including the old freight warehouse. There’s also a Georgia Northern steam locomotive and rail cars on the tracks behind the station.

*Looks like it’s been awhile since trains ran on Union Station’s tracks.*

Having gotten my daily Union Station fix, I got back onto US 82 East. The wind had picked up and it was beginning to rain. As I drove out of town I saw public works crews blocking off streets and clearing drains.

Then, all of a sudden, the leaden skies fully opened up, and lightning started flashing like paparazzi from hell. This continued for the rest of the day. And in the mid-afternoon I started receiving tornado warnings on my iphone.

Thankfully, US 82 was not closed down by the storm, so I carefully made my way across Georgia with my wipers working overtime and only a few incidences of hydroplaning.

Because of the weather, I didn’t make many stops today. But I did break for lunch in the city of Waycross (pop: 14,000). Like so many of the places along Route 82, Waycross sprung up as a railroad town. In fact, its name references the town’s location at the intersection of six railroad lines. The town’s large, 1911 railroad station (can you guess its name??) was at the center of those rail lines, and it now houses the Chamber of Commerce and serves as a visitors center.

The guy at the visitor center encouraged me to visit the nearby Okefenokee Swamp, since Waycross is “the closest city to the Swamp.” Be that as it may, it would still require a long drive along a narrow road through peat bogs during a major downpour. Maybe next time.

Instead, I took a leisurely drive around the town and encountered two historic theaters. The Ritz theater opened in 1913 as a vaudeville house called The Grand Theater. In the mid-1930s it was extensively remodeled into a movie theater and its name was changed to the Ritz. It closed in 1977. However in the mid-1980s a group of Preservationist citizens resurrected the theater as a live performance venue. Today it’s the city’s main stage for community theater.

Waycross’s other theater has a less successful story. The Lyric Theater opened in 1923, and like the Ritz, it showed movies in the middle decades of the 20th century. I can’t find when it closed, but They Shoot Horses Don’t They? was playing there as late as 1970. For my money, the Lyric is far more interesting looking than the Ritz, but its interior is probably beyond salvation.

*The Lyric Theater looks pretty solid, from a distance.*

*Note the detail in the original decoration of the facade.*

*2018 photo of the interior, fr*om “Cinema Treasures” website.

The reason I came across those theaters is because I was looking for a Studebaker dealer. Let me explain:

Loyal reader Victor R sent me a link to a database of Studebaker dealerships all across the country. The database lists two dealerships in Waycross: Johnson Motor Car Co. at 302 Albany Ave, and J.N. Stinson at 406 Tebeau St. The first address is now just a vacant lot, but there is a building at the Tebeau address. I think the current building is not the same as Stinson’s dealership, though, because according the database Stinson was in business in 1925. And what I saw today is clearly not a 1925 building.

*Probably was* **not** *used as a Studebaker showroom.*

Eventually I got back onto Route 82 to complete the final 60 miles of the trip. The weather was worsening again, but it was still driveable. A cup of coffee from a Waycross coffee bar kept me alert.

It seems that I’m always able to sense when I start to approach the Atlantic, and today was no exception. I don’t know if there’s a scent in the air, or if the landscape changes (definitely the density of trees thinned out), or if the development patterns change, or maybe the style of architecture is different. All I can say is that it felt like I was getting close to the end of the continent. I was anticipating the satisfaction, the closure, of arriving at that final Route 82 sign that says “END” on it. Like this one at the eastern end of Route 60:

The rain was getting heavier, but I just knew I was almost there. I fixed my eyes on each sign I passed, straining to see past the rain on the windshield and the rapidly-sweeping wipers, anticipating the dopamine hit I would surely receive when I caught side of the “END.” And then, suddenly…I’m on US 17 north! What happened to US 82??

It took me some retracing of my steps to sort things out, but the bottom line is that there’s no END sign. Instead, there’s what I’ll call a “handoff” sign that marks both 82 East and 17 North simultaneously. This is the easternmost sign for US 82.

Well, that was anticlimactic. But no matter. I had safely made it to Brunswick, that’s what mattered. And to celebrate, I took a picture of the big stew pot that supposedly was used to make the first Brunswick Stew in 1898.

*“In this pot the first Brunswick Stew was made on St. Simon Isle July 2 1898.”*

There only remained two things left to do: First, I got my Brew of the Day (see below). And then, tomorrow, I will do a Mystery Travel Task that will complete an important collection for the Boilard Travel Archive. All will be made clear tomorrow. Now it’s on to the:

BREW OF THE DAY

Today’s BOTD came from Weber’s Growler Factory in Brunswick. It’s an interesting place, with forty beers on tap to fill your growler or to drink there by the glass. They also have a lot of bottled beers and an extensive selection of cigars. Sadly, they also have one of the most disinterested, unfriendly bartenders you’ll ever meet.

*Eclectic taproom.* *(photo lifted from Yelp, since I didn’t want to tick off the bartender with my camera)*

I was overwhelmed by the menu, so I asked for something local. Turns out the only beer from a Brunswick brewery is a Mexican lager. Lagers really aren’t my cup of tea, especially on a stormy winter day. So I asked if there was anything from elsewhere in Georgia. I ended up with a “De-stress Express” from Georgia Beer Company in Valdosta, GA.

Interestingly, though I didn’t plan it, the De-stress Express is quite similar on paper to the Stone Xocaveza I drank last night. They are both stouts that are intended to evoke a mix of coffee and chocolate. But while Stone’s effort tasted flat and uninteresting and even a little off, today’s entry from Georgia was a winner.

De-Stress Express’s chocolate and coffee tastes don’t fight against each other; they complement each other. The coffee keeps the chocolate from being too cloying, and the chocolate keeps the coffee from being too bitter. Some light hoppiness is present, nicely balanced by the creamy, milky lactose. Today’s beer also had more carbonation than Stone’s, which helped to create a foamy head and to provide a nice tickle on the tongue. The beer comes across quite bright and fresh, which is a bit unusual for a stout. Perhaps that’s because it’s a local brew? Mouthfeel is very full-bodied and creamy. Definitely for sipping rather than quaffing. It took me almost half an hour to get through mine! ABV is a manageable 6.5 percent. I wish I could get it in California. Four stars out of five.