Road Trip to Woodstock & Beyond - Day 6

Click HERE to start reading at Day 1 entry.

On Tuesday morning, September 11, 2001, America came under attack when four commercial airliners were hijacked and used to strike targets on the ground. Nearly 3,000 innocent people lost their lives. Because of the actions of the 40 brave passengers and crew aboard one of the planes, Flight 93, the attack on the U.S. Capitol was prevented. The site where Flight 93 crashed is now a national memorial and was our next destination.

Tower of Voices

Pretty much in the middle of nowhere, outside of Stoystown, Pennsylvania, a rural town of only 428 residents, is an empty field now considered by most Americans as holy ground. The first thing you see as you near the site is the Tower of Voices, a 93-foot-tall (in recognition of Flight 93) musical instrument holding forty wind chimes, representing the forty passengers and crew members who perished. It is the only chime structure like this in the world. Surrounded by wildflowers, the structure was built on an oval concrete plaza on top of an earthen mound to create an area more prominent on the landscape. The shape and orientation of the tower are designed to optimize airflow through the tower walls to reach the interior chime chamber. The chime system is designed using music theory to create the range of frequencies needed to produce a distinct musical note associated with each chime. The intent is to create a set of forty tones (one “voice” for each of the passengers and crew members) that can represent the serenity and nobility of the site while also recalling the event that consecrated the site. It’s an interesting structure that sets the reflective and somber tone for what’s to come, but unfortunately for us, the wind must be blowing at least 5 MPH for the chimes to work and there wasn’t even a hint of a breeze while we were there. Later, I spoke to one of the Park Rangers and she said the sounds were haunting and mesmerizing. Go to Youtube and search on "flight 93 tower of voices" to listen to a recording of the chimes.

After leaving the Tower of Voices, we proceeded to the visitor center, a large single-story building that houses a permanent exhibition focusing on Flight 93. This is where emotions surged as we viewed actual artifacts from the crash – pieces of the plane, personal items of the crew and passengers, a scorched and torn bible, a child’s shoe, a man’s damaged wallet, bent silverware, a burned and badly damaged seat belt, a damaged watch stopped at 10:03 – the time when the plane crashed into the ground. There is a station with headphones for you to listen to heart-wrenching voice message recordings of the last words sent by doomed passengers and crew members saying goodbye to family, spouses, and children. “Honey, I love you. I don’t think we’re going to make it out of this. Tell the children I love them!” “Hey sis, something bad is happening on the flight right now. If I don’t make it, my banking papers and stuff is in the safe and the combination is…” “Hey, Babe. This may be the last time I get to tell you how much I love you and the kids. Please don’t forget that.” Most of the people standing there listening to those messages had tears in their eyes. I did too.

Going through the rest of the very well done exhibition brought more emotions to the surface – sadness, confusion (how could someone do that to innocent men, women, and children, no matter what you believe or how strong that belief is), impotent rage at the so-called “people” who did that, and yes, a strong need for revenge, a desire to rid the world of anyone who is capable of doing that to another human being.

The boulder in the field at the end of the path
is the spot where the plane hit the ground 

At the end of the exhibition hall, there are large glass windows that look out onto the actual site where the plane hit the ground. There is a large rock that marks the exact spot. I stood there in deep thought looking at that rock for a long time. So did my buddy Chip, not saying anything, each lost in our own thoughts. Later, as we walked outside of the building along the “Flight Path Walk,” (a paved walkway that followed the final flight path) we passed beside a white wall that was inscribed with the names of all 40 innocent souls.

It was an interesting, but sad day. Even now, as I sit here writing about it, I still get emotional. I’m sure I will for a long, long time. Pulling away from the site, we didn't say much for a long while. We didn't have to. Chip simply said, "Wow." I quietly replied "Yeah." Enough said.

Next on our road trip agenda was Intercourse. Of course, two guys in a car on a road trip had to amuse ourselves for a few miles with crude jokes about the town name. What can I say? It's what guys do when the wives are not around. Getting to the little unincorporated village of Intercourse, Pennsylvania from Stoystown was a genuinely nice drive of 175 miles through rolling, wooded hills, open green pastures, and small towns. Along the way, we passed a number of old abandoned homes and barns – all left to the winds of change and the whims of history, but every one of them has a story to tell. For most, the story will remain untold. When you don’t know the facts, you can only fill in the blanks with your imagination. How old is this old house, the one with the falling in front porch? Who built that old, weathered barn, the one with that door hanging on just by the top hinge? How many families called that old farmhouse “home,” the one surrounded by shade trees and now mostly covered with honeysuckle vines? Every time I see one, I think about that, and wonder, what happened to the people?

A few miles outside of town, we started seeing Amish in their horse-drawn buggies and distinctive clothing. As soon as we entered the town’s limits, the streets were filled with buggies, Amish children riding their strange self-propelled “skateboards” and lots of tourist’s cars. Somehow, perhaps enabled by the large streets wide enough for cars and buggies to drive side-by-side, it didn’t seem overly crowded. We were to be disappointed at our first stop, the American Military Edged Weaponry Museum. Their website said they were open. Guess it had not been updated because it was closed with signs on the doors indicating it was because of Covid-19. We were disappointed, but you gotta expect stuff like that to happen and just roll with it.

Inside the Kitchen Kettle store

Next up was just a couple of blocks away – the Kitchen Kettle Village with its 42 shops and restaurants. This is where we had a really nice time, shopping for souvenirs, walking around looking at the handmade quilts, pottery, art, fine leathers, and homemade foods. We ate homemade ice cream while sitting in the shade under a large oak tree watching an exceptionally talented duo playing instruments and singing. We came away with a lot of homemade food items to bring back home to share with our wives – jams, jellies, various mixes, and bags of jerky. Everyone was very friendly and interesting to talk with. One of the ladies in the Kitchen Kettle store (where maybe I got just a tiny bit carried away and bought 4 different jams and 4 different jellies plus a cornbread mix) told us nobody is positive how the town name of Intercourse came about, but the most common story is that the community grew up around the intersection of two main roads, what the Amish refer to as an "intercourse." It was a very relaxing, calm, and fun way to spend an afternoon, something we both needed after the emotional visit to the Flight 93 Memorial.

Trying to eat it all before
 it melts!

Reluctantly leaving Intercourse, we drove a short 20 miles to Lititz, another little town in Amish country. There, we found the Julius Sturgis Pretzel Bakery. Founded in 1861, it is the oldest pretzel bakery in America. They had many different flavors of fresh-baked pretzels for sale as well as a bunch of tools for making your own pretzels, t-shirts, and other souvenir items. Neither of us are big pretzel eaters, so we weren’t overly thrilled with this stop, but it’s cool to say you’ve been to the oldest pretzel bakery in America. And being able to truthfully say, “been there, done that, got the t-shirt” is part of the reason for a road trip!

It was getting close to sundown, our usual “let’s find a place to stop for the night” alarm, but we were both feeling good so we decided to drive 3 hours to our next destination, – Bethel, New York, to be there early in the morning. Unfortunately, our prevailing good luck with finding a good hotel each night, even without reservations, was about to come crashing down. Big time.

Click HERE for Day 1.  Click HERE for Day 2&3. Click HERE for Day 4&5.

Road Trip: From Arkansas to Woodstock & Beyond - Day 1

 My buddy and I recently completed an epic road trip. First stop was for BBQ at "Tom's Barbeque" in Memphis, Tennessee. I heard it was on Guy Fieri's show "Diners, Drive-Ins & Dives" and was featured in his book "Road Trip." It also appeared in an episode of "The Best Thing I Ever Ate" on TV. Gotta be good, right? Wrong. Terribly wrong.

The order window in Tom's BBQ

Turns out, Guy was there 11 years ago and the TV show was from 10 years ago. The restaurant has changed ownership and should now be listed number 1 on the Worst Barbeque In America. It looked like it has been at least 10 years since the place was cleaned. As we walked up to the order window, the lady behind the counter stared at us like we had just kicked her dog. The phone rang while we were ordering, she turned away, answered it, and ignored us for 5 minutes with us still standing there in mid-order. An older gentleman came over and said he would take our orders. After ordering, we went to the other counter to pay and the woman said, "over 55 dollars." I said, "Sorry?" since all I ordered was a plate lunch. She looked at me scowling and screamed, "I wasn't talking to you!" She then continued to talk to somebody I couldn't see behind her. 

Bad, just bad

When we finally got our food, my sliced beef brisket was a large dollop of chopped beef swimming in some kind of awful-tasting sauce. The beans tasted like they had been made several days ago and left out on the stove. The potato salad had no taste whatsoever. We asked if we could have some salt and pepper and were told nothing is available. My buddy's corn-on-the-cob was an old, dried-up, shriveled-up ear. He bought a canned coke and said that was the best part of the meal. We ended up leaving a lot on our plates. Not a good way to start a road trip. Our considered advice is to stay away from Tom's Barbeque in Memphis - far, far away! We headed on down the road to Brownsville, TN.

After escaping the horrid experience at Tom's BBQ (I'd just as soon bite a bug as eat there again!), we drove 64 miles to Brownsville, Tennessee. Located amongst the cypress groves where Bald Eagles nest, I have to say we didn't find a lot there. So why stop? Like a lot of road trip addicts, I love road kitsch, offbeat Americana, roadside attractions, and Brownsville has a great one - Billy Tripps Mindfield.

In 1989, Billy Tripp began work on his life’s project: the "Mindfield," an immense steel structure just a couple of blocks from the town’s main square. Using salvaged metal, Tripp constructed the largest outdoor sculpture in Tennessee. The sculpture is about an acre large and, at the tallest point, 125 feet high. Tripp has stated that the Mindfield represents his emotions, personal growth, as well as his significant life events. In 2002, after the death of his father, Tripp added one of the largest additions to the sculpture, a water tower from a closed factory in Kentucky.

Tripp's Mindfield

Currently, Tripp continues to work on the sculpture, building pieces in his shop behind the structure and then adding them. In a published interview, he said, “I see it as a conversation with myself, but it doesn’t bother me that it can be overheard by other people." Tripp has also written a book, The Mindfield Years: Volume 1, and is currently working on a second volume. Like the sculpture, the book is autobiographical and runs 725 pages long. Upon his death, he intends to be interred within the sculpture. “It will be my cemetery,” he has said. “It’s my grave marker.”

After seeing it up close, I can see my mind and Billy Tripp's do not work in the same way. His work is certainly interesting, but it may be a good thing that his wife is a psychiatrist.

We stayed just long enough to stare at it while trying to figure out how a mind can conceive of such a thing. We were both quiet for a while, lost in our own thoughts. Thinking about it was putting a strain on our minds so, giving it up, we got back on the road. It was near sundown as we headed toward Jackson, Tennessee, our next destination and we still needed a place to stop and rest our weary heads for the night.

After visiting Billy Tripp's Mindfield, we headed to Jackson, Tennessee for some road trip food goodies at "Woodstock Bake Shop" which had come highly recommended. But it was getting late and looking on down the road, there were not many hotels so we pulled into a decent-looking Comfort Inn along the way. In our experience, Comfort Inns are usually ok, but not anything to write home about. Surprisingly, this one turned out to be really nice - very clean, new furniture, very comfortable beds, and even large, fluffy towels. Not much in the breakfast department, but that was due to Covid, not a shortcoming of the hotel.

Click HERE to read the next entry.

Postcard From The Last Picture Show & Beyond

(Continued from road trip post 7)   (Go to the first post of this series)

The wives were expecting us home in a couple of days and we were about 500 miles away with more planned stops along the road ahead so we got up pretty early, ate a quick breakfast and headed west to the nice little town of Eastland, Texas.

From 1957 until 1968, Marene Johnson Johnson ( yes, that's her name) served as the Eastland postmaster. For seven years, once all mailboxes were filled and the packages delivered, Marene worked on her pet project - a giant mural made entirely of postage stamps. When she was finished, she gave up her postmaster job and left the mural, all 11,217 stamps of it, for future patrons to gaze upon and admire.

The Eastland Post Office Mural

The centerpiece of the mural is a replica of the United Nations seal surrounded by stamps from around the world. She also created portraits of Abraham Lincoln and Benjamin Franklin (America's 1st postmaster general), a map of Texas and the Confederate flag. Putting a final touch to her work, she surrounded all of it in a frame of yellow roses. It's not a thing that blows your socks off, but it sure is interesting to stand there and contemplate how much work went into it, how much patience and perseverance it must have taken and what a unique talent Marene Johnson Johnson possessed. 

Putting Eastland in our rearview mirror, we headed west on Hwy 6 for a short 10 mile drive to Cisco and the site of the infamous Santa Claus Bank Robbery. At the time it occurred, the Santa Claus Bank Robbery led to the largest manhunt ever seen in Texas.

On December 23, 1927, around noon, ex-cons Marshall Ratliff, Henry Helms, Robert Hill and Louis Davis held up the First National Bank in Cisco. The four men met in Wichita Falls while planning the crime and on the morning of the 23rd, they stole a car and headed for Cisco, about 120 miles away. Arriving just before noon, they were ready to make themselves some easy money.

During this time period, three or four Texas banks a day were being robbed. In response, the Texas Bankers Association offered a $5,000 reward to anyone shooting a bank robber during the crime. This reward helped turn a simple bank robbery into a deadly crime. As the group neared the bank, Ratliff donned a Santa Claus suit he had borrowed from Mrs. Midge Tellet who ran the boarding house where they had been staying in Wichita Falls. Ratliff got out of the car several blocks from the bank and a few minutes later, followed by children attracted to Santa, he joined the other three in an alley and led the way into the bank. As Santa entered, he drew all eyes toward him as a distraction. Several seconds later, the other three drew their guns shouting "This is a holdup!" While they covered the customers and employees, Santa grabbed money from the tellers and forced one to open the vault. Mrs. B. P. Blassengame and her daughter entered the bank while the holdup was in progress and seeing what was happening, she grabbed her daughter's hand and ran back out of the door. She began screaming for help, alerting most of the citizenry as well as Chief of Police G. E. (Bit) Bedford, who just happened to be nearby.

Several minutes later, Santa (Ratliff) had filled his sack with money and came out of the vault. Seeing someone outside, Hill fired a shot through the window. A shot was returned. Hill fired several more shots and then a fusillade of gunfire began as many citizens who owned guns were now outside the bank. The robbers forced all of the people in the bank out the door towards their car. Several of the hostages were wounded as they emerged into the alley, but most managed to escape. Two small girls, Laverne Comer and Emma May Robertson, did not break away and were taken as hostages. In a shootout in the alley, as the robbers tried to get to their car, Chief Bedford and Deputy George Carmichael were mortally wounded. Ratliff, still dressed as Santa, was slightly wounded while Davis was severely wounded.

As the four began their escape with their hostages, they realized they had neglected to get gas for the car and it was almost empty. To make matters worse, before exiting the alley, one of the tires was shot out. They drove to the edge of town, pursued by the mob, and attempted to commandeer an Oldsmobile belonging to the Harris family. Fourteen-year-old Woody, who was driving, gave them the car but ran away with the keys. The robbers transferred their things to the Oldsmobile in the midst of gunfire which wounded Hill, only to realize they could not start the car. Davis was by then unconscious and close to death, so they left him in the car and moved back to the first car with their two hostages. It was not until later they realized they had left the stolen money with Davis.

The First National Bank of Cisco building still stands today

The mob found Davis and the money and temporarily gave up the chase. The money, $12,400 in cash and $150,000 in securities, was returned to the bank which had an estimated 225 bullet holes in the walls. Besides the two police officers, there had been six townspeople wounded in the shootout, but no one was sure whether the robbers or the mob was responsible.

The robbers abandoned the bullet-ridden car and the two girls several miles from town and continued on foot. They stole another car the next morning and managed to evade the search parties for a while, until they wrecked the car near Putnam. They commandeered a vehicle driven by Carl Wylie, forcing him to drive and taking him hostage for twenty-four hours. They then let Wylie have his car back and stole another car.

The two wounded men, especially Ratliff, who by now had discarded his Santa suit, were doing very poorly due to their wounds, lack of food, and the icy, sleeting conditions. Eventually, the threesome was ambushed by Sheriff Foster of Young County at South Bend as they tried to cross the Brazos River. Another car chase followed with a shootout in a field as the three tried to make their escape. Cy Bradford, a Texas Ranger, hit all three men with his 6 shots. Ratliff was hit and fell to the ground. Helms and Hill were both wounded, but they managed to escape into the woods. Several days later, after dodging an intense manhunt assisted by an airplane, the two made it into Graham and peacefully surrendered. Two more men had been wounded in the manhunt bringing the total number of wounded to eight, not counting the three surviving robbers.

Helms, Hill, and Ratliff had several wounds apiece and had not eaten for days. All survived however, and soon faced trials. Hill pleaded guilty to armed robbery and in March was sentenced to 99 years in prison. He escaped from prison three times but was recaptured each time. After settling down, he was paroled in the mid-1940s, changed his name, and became a law-abiding citizen. Helms was identified as the one who had gunned down both lawmen and was given the death sentence in late February. After an unsuccessful insanity plea, he was executed by electric chair on September 6, 1929. "Santa" Ratliff was first convicted of armed robbery on January 27, 1928, and sentenced to 99 years in prison. On March 30, he was sentenced to execution for his role in the deaths of Bedford and Carmichael, although no one could testify to having seen him fire a gun in the bank. Ratliff appealed his case, going for an insanity plea. He had begun acting insane the day that Helms was executed, and thoroughly convinced his jailers that he was. His mother, Rilla Carter, filed for a lunacy hearing in Huntsville. However, the citizens of Eastland County were infuriated that he had not been executed yet, and even further aggravated to know that Ratliff was attempting the insanity plea. For his safety, he was transferred to the Eastland County jail. While there, he convinced his jailers that he really was insane as they had to feed him, bathe him, and take him to the toilet.

On November 18, Ratliff attempted to escape, killing Tom Jones in the process. He was quickly recaptured and put back in jail. A crowd began to gather the next morning and by nightfall had grown to over 1,000. They began demanding Ratliff be given to them. The sheriff refused but was overpowered as the mob rushed in and found Ratliff. Dragging him out, they tied his hands and feet and headed for a nearby power pole. The first attempt to hang him failed when the knot came loose and he fell to the ground. The second time, however, the knot held. Ratliff was pronounced dead at 9:55 P.M. on November 19. Jones' death brought the total number of dead, including three bank robbers, to six. No one was ever tried in association with the lynching, even though a grand jury was formed, as nobody came forward as a witness. The whole town declared they had not seen anything.

Leaving Cisco, we jumped on Hwy 183 north for 29 miles to Breckenridge to see a large mural painted on the side of a building. Tiny mirrors were mixed with the paint so the sign would sparkle in the sunlight. We also intended to see Breckenridge Aviation Museum's collection of World War II airplanes and memorabilia. Plus, there was an intriguing little sculpture generally known as a "Purple People Eater" thingy in a farmer's field just outside of town. I love road kitsch, offbeat Americana, roadside attractions. How could I pass up something with a name like that? Plus, in general, it's on our back roads route home so why not?

Where's the sparkles?

Unfortunately, things didn't go as planned. We arrived on a Sunday only to find the museum is not open on Sunday unless you call several days ahead to make arrangements. We did find the mural and it was indeed very large and it did indeed have little, tiny mirrors embedded in the paint. I expected to see this really cool, sparkling painting, but I'm afraid it didn't live up to my expectations. Even in bright sun on a cloudless day, the sparkles were minimal and you had to get up close and tilt your head on an angle to see the sparkles at all. Maybe in it's youthful heyday it was much more, but now that it's older, it has lost some of its vitality and sparkle. And we never saw the Purple People Eater thingy. I later found out the last time somebody reported seeing it was three years earlier and it had started to rust. A lot of things can happen in three years. I'm sure Breckenridge is a wonderful town with a lot of wonderful, happy folks living there, but I'm afraid we drove there excited and drove away disappointed.

The Royal Theatre

We took Breckenridge in stride as we are road tripper experienced enough to know not everything is as exciting when you get there as it was when you were just thinking about it. Sure enough, our mood began to lighten again as soon as we got on our way to our next destination - Archer City, home of Larry McMurtry and the town where "The Last Picture Show" was filmed. "The Last Picture Show" earned 8 academy award nominations and won two. The movie has been rated as a top 100 movies of all time. The film critic Roger Ebert gave it four stars out of four and named it the best film of 1971. He added it to his "Great Movies List" writing, "the film is above all an evocation of mood. It is about a town with no reason to exist and people with no reason to live there. The only hope is transgression."

We had another disappointment when we found McMurtry's bookstore was closed. Over a few years, he opened four bookstores in Archer City and stocked them with over 400,000 fine and scholarly books he had hand-picked for his personal collection. When he turned 76 years old and none of his children expressed any interest in operating a bookstore, he decided to sell 300,000 books at auction. The auction was a huge success and he closed 3 of the stores. Now there is only one left which contains between 150,000 and 200,000 books. As most of the sales now come from online orders, he also reduced the time the store is open to only 4 hours per day, Thursday through Saturday . 

The blinking yellow light

The Royal Theatre, which plays a major part in the movie is still there. At least the front is. Not many people know in real life, the back half of the theater burned down in 1965 and it has never been rebuilt. With its closure, the heart of the town was lost. The movie, released in 1971, used the front of the movie house, but filmed the interior scenes in a theater in Olney, a town a few miles south of Archer City. The blinking yellow light is also often seen throughout the movie and it is still there, still blinking. The whole time we were there,  we saw just three or four people and very few cars. Even on a Sunday, with a population of 1,700, you would think there would be more life, but when the oil crash hit and McMurtry closed his bookstores, I got the feeling the town has actually taken on the rather sad life of Anarene, the name given to it in the movie. If you haven't seen "The Last Picture Show," I strongly recommend it.

Always happy on a road trip!

 And with that, it was time to head back home, a distance of about 475 miles. It was already afternoon by the time we left, so we'll stop in Wichita Falls, Texas for a bite to eat and find a hotel room for our last night on the road. Between Archer City and Wichita Falls however, is the interesting little ghost town of Mankins. We had just enough daylight hours left to stop by there. Why go by Mankins? Because it is the only place in Texas, perhaps even the nation, where a monkey crossing the road was hit and killed by a car! To read all about Mankins and that poor monkey, click here.

Postcard from the Haunted Excelsior House Hotel

I woke up this morning and it was 14 degrees outside. The weather lady said the wind chill was 8 degrees. It reminded me of a road trip my good buddy, Chip, and I took one winter. For a number of years now, about 3 times each year, we pack a few things, leave the women and children behind and head out on a road trip, a "Mancation" if you will. We used to feel guilty going off on a grand adventure to who knows where and not bringing the wives, but now that we're both retired and our main occupation is hanging around the house, it seems the women-folk are more encouraging we do this than they were before.

 Chip and I have been best friends for going on 50 years now, ever since we met in Pensacola, Florida while in the Navy. Somehow we kept getting assigned together and for almost 4 years we saw some "interesting" times together sailing the world's oceans and sleeping about 2 feet from each other, me in the top berthing rack and him in the middle one. It cemented our brotherhood. And now, even though we live in different states, we usually don't go more than a couple of days without touching base with each other just in case we need to argue about something.

I have always enjoyed reading and every time I read about someplace or something interesting, I put it in my "Places To See" spreadsheet and spend many hours researching to find the history and back story of those places and things. I also like to eat so every time I see something like "Top Ten BBQ Places" or "Top Ten Hamburgers," I add those to my spreadsheet too. Over the years, I've noted almost 500 of these places and it's my intention to visit them all and write about the more interesting ones. Call it my retirement job.

In order to check out some of these places, Chip and I had made plans to go on a Texpedition; driving around Texas to see some of those sites and eat at places recommended. We made reservations for our first night at a hotel that is reputed to be one of the most haunted in the whole state, the Excelsior House Hotel in Jefferson, Texas.

The day before our scheduled departure, Chip drove the 325 or so miles to my house and spent the night. We planned to get an early start the next morning but became a bit concerned when the weather forecast called for severe cold down Texas-way over the next few days. No problem we figured, as I have a good truck with new tires and we'll just take our big coats and bundle up.

A little after night changed to day, we headed out in clear, balmy 39-degree weather. After stopping for breakfast at a nearby IHOP, we turned the truck southeast and hit the road. Riding along we had much great fun in the typical fashion of two male friends on a road trip - crude humor, tasteless jokes, and numerous castings of dispersion on each other's mental capacity, driving ability, looks, and tastes in women, movies, books, and cars. During these times, we often solve all the world's problems - if people would just listen to us!

Interesting ice formed on the hub of my truck

About a hundred miles into the trip, we noticed clouds rolling in and the outside temperature gauge showed a steady decrease. It began to rain which rather quickly turned to sleet. Being the manly men we think we are, a quick conference decided since we were halfway there already, to just keep going. Soon though, we went down some backroads, roads that the locals evidently knew to stay off of when ice falls from the sky. The sleet got heavier and the roads became icy. Our talk turned to quiet as the tick, tick, tick of the sleet on the truck became heavier and our anxiety grew. I slowed down to about 20 miles per hour as the truck kept sliding from one side of the road to the other. Driving a pick-up in conditions like this with nothing but a couple of suitcases in the covered back is not fun. Thinking more weight might help, we stopped in a town and filled up with gas. The truck was covered with ice which fell off in sheets as we opened the doors.

Somehow, a few miles later, we arrived at our destination without getting stuck on the side of the road or rolling over in a ditch. The drive had taken a lot longer than expected, but we were still a little early for check-in at the Excelsior House. We went inside to let them know we were there so don't give our room to someone else. The front desk lady was extremely nice and told us we could go on to our room since it was ready. She also told us the Garden Club was holding a chili supper in the dining room that evening and we were welcome to have some really good homemade Chile if we wanted. She didn't have to ask us twice!  

Located in the heart of Jefferson's Riverfront district, the Excelsior House is the 2nd oldest continuously operating hotel in Texas (the Menger Hotel in San Antonio is slightly older). Around 1855, riverboat captain William Perry realized there was a need for a hotel in the rowdier part of Jefferson so he purchased land and built a hotel he named "Irving House." After Captain Perry died, the hotel was bought and operated by a succession of owners. In 1877, it was purchased by Kate Wood and renamed the Excelsior House. Over the years, additions were constructed and it underwent several restorations until it was sold to the Allen Wise Garden Club in 1961. Since then, many volunteers have spent thousands of hours updating and restoring the hotel. Each room has been furnished with period antiques harking back to its glory days.

Many famous historical figures have spent nights in these rooms. Presidents Grant, Hays, and LBJ have signed the guest register as well as folks like W.H. Vanderbilt, John Jacob Aster, Oscar Wilde, Steven Speilburg, and Jay Gould, who wanted to bring the railroad to Jefferson. When the city fathers turned him down, he put a curse on the town and left. He promised the end of Jefferson and said "grass will grow in the streets and bats will roost in the church belfries." Gould's curse almost came true when the town's steamboat port had to close and the population went from 35,000 to 1,000. To serve as a reminder of what might have been, the Garden Club purchased Goud's custom-built railroad car, placed it across the street from the hotel, and today offers guided tours through it.

Stories of the hauntings of the Excelsior House are numerous with many people who do not know each other and are unaware of the stories all telling of the same, strange and unexplainable happenings. Several of the rooms are named after the historical people who slept in them. While there are three rooms that seem to be the most haunted, the Gould Room is by far the most famous. There have been many reports of an ethereal headless man who has been seen walking the hallway outside the Gould Room. A number of guests have told of a woman in black sitting in a rocking chair rocking a baby in the Gould Room. It appears there is a least one ghost who likes to lightly touch people on their face or tickle their neck while they sleep. Sometimes it will yank the covers off in the middle of the night. Voices speaking in German have been heard coming from rooms where nobody was staying. Many reports have been of guests smelling a strong perfume in one room which quickly dissipates when the room is entered. A well-liked prostitute known as Diamond Bessie, tragically murdered in the nearby woods, used to stay in the room and was known to always wear a strong, sweet-smelling perfume. 

The famed movie director, Steven Spielberg, was booked to stay in the Excelsior House in the early 1970's while filming Sugarland Express. As it happened, he was given the Jay Gould Room. According to him, as soon as he walked into his room, he felt uneasy, as if someone was watching him. It had been a long, hard day and he wanted to lay down for a few minutes so, dismissing his unease, he walked on into the room and casually tossed his briefcase onto a rocking chair in the corner of the room. The briefcase immediately flew back into his face, as if it had been thrown back at him. He decided to go eat and get to bed early, but when he returned and lay down, he had trouble sleeping, again feeling as if someone was watching him. Finally drifting off, he was suddenly awakened by a little boy tugging on his nightshirt and asking if he was ready for breakfast. While staring wide-eyed at the little boy, the figure slowly vanished and through the apparition, Speilburg could see the rocking chair in the corner rocking back and forth. It was only 2:00AM, but he got up, packed his things, woke up his film crew, and made everyone drive 20 miles to the nearest Holiday Inn where they stayed for the rest of their time filming around Jefferson. After filming on "Sugarland Express" ended, Spielberg wrote the screenplay for his next movie, "Poltergeist."

Our Room

When Chip and I arrived, we found the lobby area to be filled with interesting old pictures and antiques. The lady who checked us in, gave us an old-fashioned room key and told us how to get to our room in "the original section of the hotel." She informed us they had turned on the wall furnace so the room should be warm, but if we needed, there were extra blankets and quilts in the wardrobe. Grabbing our bags from the truck, we passed through a door from the lobby, walked a short way down a hall and hauled our bags up a skinny flight of stairs which creaked and groaned with each step. On the 2nd floor, we turned left to the end of the hall to our room. While inserting the key into the lock, the door creaked open. It had not been locked. I guess the maid just forgot to lock up.

On entering and closing the door, we found the room to be clean and fully furnished with old antique furniture except for the flat-screen TV. The bathroom was antique as well with an old sink and claw-footed tub, but there was also a tiled shower stall and, of course, the toilet. It was only then I started remembering some of the stories I had read - a rocking chair in the corner of the room, two beds with carved, wooden head and footboards made of Circassian Walnut, a large wooden wardrobe, a club-footed tub - we were in the Jay Gould Room! In for a dime, in for a dollar, and besides, who really believes in ghosts? As we unpacked a few items, it seemed the room, even with the ancient wall furnace turned all the way on high, was not warming up. After such a tiring drive and it being several hours until the chili supper, we decided to take naps. The outside temperature was in the upper 20's and it didn't seem to be much warmer in our room. Covering up with the covers on our respective beds, we both crashed.

Waking up a while later, we noticed the door was slightly ajar. I was sure I had locked it before my nap. Worried that maybe someone had come in and taken something, we took inventory of the things we had brought up with us. Everything was right where we had placed it except for one thing - Chip's iPad. We searched high and low, in his suitcase, everywhere. Nope, it was not there. Finally, I asked, "Are you sure you brought it in from the truck?" "I'm pretty sure," he replied. "Well, let's get bundled up again, go outside and look in the truck just to be sure." We searched the truck. Not there either. Well, crap. We locked the truck doors and started to head back inside to report the theft when Chip said, "Hey, here it is!" And there, wrapped in its black leather case sitting on top of my black pickup bed cover, now under a good 1/4" of sleet pellets, was his iPad, right where he had set it while getting his suitcase out of the truck. It had been sitting out in public in full view of anyone passing by for several hours in mid-20's temp and getting covered in sleet. We rushed back inside, back to our room and found the door once again partially open. Chip turned on his iPad and low and behold, the thing started right up!

Our bathroom - before the deep freeze

Before heading down to the "new" section of the hotel to the dining room, we turned our attention to the door that wouldn't stay closed. After several minutes, we figured out that if you lifted up on the door, the lock would fit into the cutout and be secure. Our haunted door was nothing more than a misaligned lock.

Getting back downstairs and milling around with some of the Garden Club members while waiting for the chili and fixings to be spread out on a table, we talked with the lady who had checked us in. She said it should be quiet for us tonight as we were the only ones in "the old section." I asked her, "Do you mean anything by saying it "should" be quiet for us tonight?" "I'm not sure I know what you mean," she replied. So I asked her, just to be sure, "Which room are we in?" "Oh, you guys are in the Jay Gould Room, one of our most comfortable. If you need anything, Phyllis will be the night manager on duty." Seeming to not want to answer any more questions, she excused herself and walked away.

The chili was great. There must have been ten different topping choices, free sweet tea, and cupcakes for dessert. Everyone was friendly and we had a number of good conversations. Several of the Garden Club members seemed to make funny, sideways glances before edging away from us when they found out we were staying in the Gould Room, but that was probably just my imagination. After eating our fill, we headed back to our room for a good night's sleep.

The door that refused to stay locked

It was quiet going back to our room and very obvious we were indeed the only guests in the whole section. Arriving at our door, once again, the damn thing was ajar. I was positive I had jimmied the door so it locked securely when we left earlier. Entering the room, it seemed even colder than before. Chip took a chair and jammed it up against the door to ensure it stayed closed and nobody could get in while we slept. We fired up our laptops to check email and the news. It had gotten colder outside with the temperature now down to 18F. I don't know how cold it was in our room, but it was cold, damn cold. We got ready for bed by pulling out and dividing up all the blankets and quilts in the wardrobe and piling them on those already on the beds. Keeping our clothes on, we crawled under about 25 pounds of covers on our respective beds. Quite often, we will stay up late talking lies and telling sad truths we hope the other will think are lies, but not this night, not when it's so cold you can actually see your words leaving your mouth. 

It was warm under all those covers and I slept pretty comfortably through the night. No weird sounds, no empty creaking rocking chairs, no covers pulled off and nothing touched my face or neck. Evidently, it was too cold even for restless spirits. What was really hard was crawling out of those covers into our very cold room. Eventually, my bladder told me cold or not, you better get out of bed and take care of business. In the bathroom, I held things up as looking down into the toilet, I found it was a solid hunk of ice. I turned to the sink and turned on the hot water - nothing. I tried the tub and the shower - not even a drop of water. The pipes were frozen. I turned on the TV as I told Chip he needed to get up since we had to go find a bathroom somewhere. The weather guy on the TV informed us the temp had dropped to 8 degrees - a record low for that day!

The hallway outside our room where

a headless man is said to walk

Grabbing our overnight kits, we headed over to the newer section hoping to find a suitable place to take care of our needs. The chair against the door was still in place so we moved it out of the way and quickly went down the stairs. In the lobby, it was, thankfully, much, much warmer. We met Phyllis and after telling her about our frozen pipes, she heartily apologized and showed us to a little bathroom. She explained they only serve breakfast on weekends (we were there on a weekday), but she had a fresh pot of coffee going and she broke out some breakfast muffins. 

After a couple of muffins each and starting on our 2nd cup of coffee, we got to talking with Phyllis about the hotel. She gave us a wonderful little tour and told us all kinds of interesting information about each of the many pictures on the walls and items in the display case. She showed us the famous signatures in the hotel's register. We got her to talk about the hauntings and she admitted sometimes late at night, she would hear things - footsteps, voices. But she claimed nothing bad had ever happened and she didn't get scared. She also told us about the old hotel across the street, The Jefferson. She informed us that the Excelsior is famously haunted, but in her opinion, the Jefferson has more ghosts and some of them are not nearly as innocuous as the Excelsior's. 

The courtyard from the balcony outside

our room. That's not snow, it's sleet

She told a wonderful story about a poor fella that accepted a job as night clerk at the Jefferson. Since the nights sometimes were long and dark when there were few or no guests in either hotel, they would cross the street and visit to pass the time. One dark night, she saw the gentleman run out of the front door, jump in his car, and drove away like a bat out of hell. That would be the last time she ever saw him. He called her the next day to say he couldn't take it anymore and he would never go back. He said he had heard footsteps on the 2nd floor and knowing there were no guests that night, he went upstairs to find out who had snuck in. He walked all the way down the hall, not seeing or hearing anything until he came to the end of the hall when all of a sudden the locked door to the room swung open and he saw a pair of red eyes staring at him. He turned and ran back down the hall, but the disembodied red eyes followed him and as it went by the individual rooms, each and every door slammed open! The eyes followed him all the way to the front door as he ran away screaming. The gentleman and his wife quickly sold their house, moved away, and have never been back.

The fountain in the courtyard in the morning

As we checked out, Phyllis talked about her husband and how he goes fishing nearly every day on nearby Caddo Lake. She said she doesn't mind because when he stays home, he gets bored and finds things to fix, but he's not very good at it and just generally gets in her way. She then jokingly said, "If you meet my husband, don't tell him what I said!" Before heading out the door, we asked for her recommendation of a place to get breakfast and she directed us to the Port Jefferson Outpost, "the place where the locals go."

The Outpost just before the local guys arrived

Following Phyllis's directions, we found the Outpost a few blocks away. The front 3/4 of the store is one of those little Mom-&-Pop places that sell all kinds of things like scented hand-made soap, knick-knacks, signs, sauces, and jams. Go all the way through though and in the back is an ordering counter, several picnic tables, and a sit-down counter. On a little table at the end were several urns of hot coffee where you can help yourself. The girl we gave our order to was very nice and a full breakfast was very reasonably priced. We wondered a little if this really is where the locals come since we were the only customers. However, just a few minutes after we sat down, a couple of older gentlemen came in, then a man and his wife, then a few more guys, all wearing gimme hats from Massey Ferguson, Farmall, John Deere, or Janes Farm and Feed. Everyone was friendly, smiled, and said hi. Finally, a bearded gentleman in another gimme hat strolled in and everybody called him by name. He was obviously a popular guy. Getting a cup of coffee and telling the counter girl he would have his usual, he came over and took the last open seat which just happened to be next to us. They all talked about fixing tractors, barn roofs, and boat motors, but mostly they discussed fishing - were the fish biting, where are they biting, what are they biting and who all is going fishing today. The conversation took a lag so Mr. Popular turned to us and stated with authority, "You guys aren't from around here." Every head in the room was focused on us, wanting to know our story. We told him no, we were just passing through and had spent last night at the Excelsior House. "Oh," he exclaimed, "then you must have met my wife, Phyllis!"

Small world! We talked about various things for a while and then the guys started drifting out one-by-one to go fix something or to go fish. Our breakfast was finished so with bellies full and cups of coffee for the road, we said our goodbye's to Phyliss' husband and headed out for our next destination, the town of Uncertain. Don't worry, Phyliss, we never said a word.

Postcard From Boot Hill, Texas

One of the reasons I so like road trips is that you never can tell what you might find just over the next hill. On a recent trip, just meandering around the central Texas Hill Country on Highway 39 near the town of Hunt, I came across "Boot Hill." Not on any map and down a narrow, twisting 2-lane blacktop road in the middle of nowhere, I almost drove right past it before thinking, "What the heck is that?" I pulled off to the side of the road (no worries as there was nobody else on the road) to take pictures and investigate. 

It seems the "Boot Hill" fence got its start in the early 1970's when a family with six kids began mounting their children's worn-out boots on the wooden fence posts of their friend and neighbor's property. The neighbor, John Jobes, thought it was kind of funny so he started putting his two daughter's outgrown boots on the posts as well. Then the ranch hands began putting up their boots and before long, it became the final resting place for other folk's boots. Now, the boots are on every post for a lengthy distance and have even jumped across the road.

It's not exactly uncommon for people to put all sorts of mementos out on a fence for the pleasure of gawking passerby's. There is a stretch of road near Placerville, California which has shoes of all kind placed on fence posts and another place in Minnesota where people placed their old sneakers on posts. There's even a lengthy section of road in New Zealand which has become widely known as the Cadrona Bra Fence, but you can't get more pure Texas than this stretch of road known as Boot Hill.

10 Commandments for Road Trips

When is the best time to take a road trip? Anytime as far as I'm concerned! I love road trips. I've always wanted to see what's on the other side of the hill; what's just down the road a piece; around the other side of the bend. It doesn't take long for me to feel bored if I just stick around the house. Road therapy I call it. Time to drive, head for parts unknown. I'll send a post card.

I've taken a lot of road trips. Especially since I retired several years ago. Over those dozens of trips far and wide, mostly on 2-lane back roads, I've come to realize there are rules to be followed if you want to have a good road trip. Feel free to add your own, but break any of the following at your own risk!

1. Choose your companions carefully - Sometimes it's wonderful to travel alone. Taking a solo road trip allows you to clear your head, think through things, go where you want and see what you want without interference. But it usually is more enjoyable if you have a traveling companion, someone to talk to while driving and share the trip experiences and sites you will see. Plus, it's always helpful to have a navigator, preferably someone who will give directions in a clear and timely manner, providing the driver with more than 10 seconds to move three lanes to the right. Make sure it is someone you are comfortable with and who shares the same interests. It's not a good situation when you want to visit a museum and they want to find the nearest bar. Sooner than you expect, 24-hour-per-day togetherness while sharing the close confines of a car and sleeping in the same hotel room has a tendency to expose and even exaggerate personality differences.
2. Have a destination in mind, but no rigid timelines. Be willing to stop for unexpected road nuggets - a quirky roadside site, the world's largest pecan, a fruit stand on the side of the road, that perfect spot for a picnic or nap. Some of them won't really be worth your time, but that's OK because others will turn out to be the most fun and memorable activities of the trip.
3. Have a comfortable and reliable auto. Remember, you might well be spending 8 or more hours in your auto so a comfortable seat is much preferred. And being in the middle of nowhere with a broken down vehicle can be miserable so get your car checked by a mechanic and do all the preventive maintenance called for before you leave. 
4. Snacks. There MUST be snacks. Apples, trail mix, nuts, peanut butter and a loaf of french bread makes the days on the road better. Healthy is good, but a road trip is NOT the time to deprive yourself. Be sure to add goodies to your snack sack - M&M's, Snickers, cookies and chips are perfectly acceptable. And feel free to add to or replenish your snack sack with goodies you find along the way - a fried pie or two from that little bakery you stopped at or a sleeve of peanut butter crackers from the convenience store where you got gas for the car. The path to a great road trip goes through the belly.
5. Pack light. Make sure you have what you need, but remember, the lighter the better. You will not be seeing the same stranger two days in a row so the people you meet will not know you wore the same outfit yesterday. Unless you do something strenuous, like taking a hike, neither you nor your clothes will be grubby or stinky within a day. The exception to this is underwear. Pack enough to start each day wearing a fresh pair. The same pair of jeans on the other hand, can be worn for a number of days. Dress presentable, but for comfort. No need to dress to impress strangers you will most probably never see again.
6. Bring plenty of tunes. A great road trip playlist is the soundtrack to a good adventure. Memorable songs and driving down little country roads just go together and makes your trip even more enjoyable. Don't be afraid to sing along with your favorites. Even if you can't carry a note in a hand-basket, sing along. Enjoy the moment!
7. Get off the boring, mind-numbing interstate. Back roads are where you truly discover America. Bring along some good old-fashion paper maps and don't forget your GPS, but be willing to slow down and spend quality time on little 2-lane roads that go from small town to small town. Road trips are not for getting from Point A to Point B as fast as possible. Enjoy the journey.  
8. Eat local, stay local. Be adventurous. It may be reassuring to stay in one of the nation-wide hotel chains like Marriott or Hilton, but it rarely is as interesting as a local mom-and-pop motel or a historical bed-and-breakfast. You must also eat, as often as possible, in a locally owned restaurant. Very often, the best food will be served up in an establishment only the locals know about. The number of cars and pickups in the parking lot will tell you whether you should eat there or not.
9. Trust your instincts. Be safe. If you happen to find yourself in what feels like a sketchy area, it probably is. If there are bars on the windows and doors of buildings and houses, pass on through. The goal is to have an enjoyable and fun adventure, not to tempt fate.
10. Take lots and lots of pictures. Bring your camera and maybe a journal to record the adventures and sites you encounter and the stories you'll hear. You'll be sharing your trip with friends/family and reminiscing weeks, months and even decades later. Banish any thoughts that you are taking too many pictures - you're not. Remember, it's easier to delete than to regret.

Feel free to add your own rules. Let me know in the comments section if you think I should add something. Here's to future road trips!