Healing on Route 66

It had been a very long September, and we finally found ourselves heading east and back to Chicago in early October. The one week trip to California for my wifes mothers funeral had turned into three, and left us drained both physically and mentally. So with no rush to return home and needing time to switch gears in between, we decided to try to follow Route 66 home where we could.

The second day out we left Needles, CA and made our way into Arizona. We slowly lost the morning clouds and fall haze, as the sky opened up and gave us beautiful light blue skies with little puffy white clouds. In a way such skies seem to be natures definition of the happiness one gets when hitting the open road. Even though our hearts where still pretty heavy from what we had gone through in California, and what we were heading back to in Illinois, we felt as if we had some time to smile, laugh, and just enjoy being on the journey itself and being together as a family.

When we got close to Winslow, AZ it was clear that we needed to stop somewhere for lunch and it was at that point I made the suggestion we stop off at the La Posada Hotel's, Turquoise Room. Even though we had stayed at the La Posada before, we had yet to eat at the Turquoise Room and not having done so had always haunted my wife and I. We pulled off I-40 and stopped to fill our tank up at a local gas station, and as I climbed out of the car my legs felt as they usually do after hours behind the wheel, stiff, shaky and needing a good stretch, and that meant it was definitely a good time for lunch. So with my duty to my Jeep fulfilled it was time for my family and I to do our duty to ourselves and get a bite to eat, so off to the La Posada and the Turquoise Room we went. At that point it had been over five years since we had been to the La Posada last, and we were stunned by the changes we saw. True to their word the hotels owners had restored Mary Jane Colters crown jewel to its Harvey House days glory, and even improved upon it. The dirt parking lot was now paved in the section closest to eastbound Route 66, while the section closest to the hotel itself was now the home to one of the most beautiful examples of a Southwestern garden we had ever seen.

In many ways the restorations and improvements seemed to fulfill Colters original vision of the hotel, and the fictionalized history she assigned to it, to assist her in its architecture and design. In Arnold Berke's Mary Colter: Architect of the Southwest the author gets in depth with Colters original concept of the hotel, and its fictional mythos. For her backstory for the La Posada, Colter envisioned the hotel as a sprawling hacienda estate started by 17th century Spanish settlers, who in future generations would rise to prominence by raising cattle on the Northern Arizona plains. Each generation and century would add to the grand hacienda, turning it from a simple ranch home into and impressive mansion estate fit for the families lavish lifestyle, and many visitors. This fictional backstory gave Colter the guidance she needed in planning everything from the general layout of the hotel, to the fine details within it's decor, furnishings, landscaping, and even down to the Turquoise Rooms china patterns.

As we got into the Turquoise Room, it all came back to us from our prior visit how grand this grand dinning room really was. The Spanish Revival decor, rich with its Talavera, tapestries, bright colors, and red Spanish tile truly evoked the Southwestern spirit of design, that gives one a sense of grandeur, and openness. In many ways it also evoked feelings of warmth and welcoming, that made it clear the Turquoise Room would be more like an experience than just a meal. Despite hosting a larger event the staff still welcomed us in, sitting us in back near a window overlooking the active BNSF tracks, and panoramic plains beyond. Sitting there at that particular moment and time we got the feeling of being where we were suppose to be, and a sense of being home while away came over us.

It wasn't to much longer before we had food in front of us, starting with the Turquoise Rooms unforgettable corn bread. My wife dug into the scrumptious agave, honey, and butter topped corn bread and began to tear up a little. Not only was it a wonderful tasty delight, but it had reminded her of something her mother would have loved, and something of she had shared with her once before. As lunch carried on my wife's sadness began to fade and a smile came over her face, as she realized the meal reminded her of so many good times the two of them had together. In a way it was far more than just corn bread, ice tea, braised beef, and a Ceasar salad, but a healing experience. The warm sunshine, good food, the Turquoise Room, and the La Posada itself helped to remind my wife that even in mourning, the right circumstances, and environments could heal.

With our bellies full, we bid the Turquoise Room farewell and walked around the La Posada for a bit. The mixture of southwestern decor and creative fine art details helped to temporarily remove us from everything, and we lost ourselves for a bit. Mentally we all became a little more relaxed, and accepting of our situation, yet also optimistic. Now, I'm not going to claim the La Posada is a place for healing or closure, but for us on that trip two days out from a dark event in our lives the La Posada, and Turquoise Room helped bring us closer to healing.

As we set out on the road again we continued to travel Router 66 where we could. As we visited some of our old haunts along the way we continued to come together as a family remembering better times when we traveled the route together, and healing through that. The day after the La Posada and Turquoise Room, we would reach Amarillo, TX  by mid to late-afternoon. For my wife, one site she always loved along Route 66 was Cadillac Ranch, a place she had photographed extensively on our first trip and a place she could recollect her mother always wanted to visit upon seeing those photos. Wishing to leave her mark in memory of her mother my wife decided that she too would like to add some graffiti of her own to the site.  So we dropped into a Home Depot a few miles up the road to buy bright red spray paint, something the staff there seemed accustomed to seeing by the smile on their faces when we told them. We must have spent a good hour and a half walking around the six derelict and half buried road yachts as my wife photographed them again, and left graffiti in memorial to her mother on a few of them. Again the healing process kicked in and although my wife did cry a little while there and after, the ability to bring some part of her mother to Cadillac Ranch did seem to help.

The day after that we would see the Blue Whale of Catoosa, a place my son had always loved along the route. After fighting traffic through Oklahoma City, and Tulsa we hit the giant blue whale and former waterpark around late morning/earlier afternoon, or to put it another way in time for an impromptu picnic which had to take place in the car do to early fall winds. For some strange reason every time we visit the iconic Route 66 landmark we tend to be there by ourselves, or maybe briefly with one other group of people. After geocaching the site, we took our pictures of ourselves in the whale recreating our stances and poses from previous visits and than took a few moments to sit and talk at the whale themed tables placed around the site. It's a quiet spot actually despite the noise from the road, a former stretch of Route 66 and now busy county road, nearby. The sun, fresh air and sound of wind blowing through the trees was a much needed respite and gave us the energy to push forward on our attempt to make it home that day, but also made us smile and laugh a bit as we revisited old memories from previous visits there. Again a healing moment bought on by the uniqueness of a site on Route 66.

The reminder of our trip would be uneventful at best, and hours after leaving the Blue Whale of Catoosa we would make it home in the early AM hours. Being home again would be surreal for the first few days, especially as we made very little contact with anybody, and mainly rested up from the long trip, and before catching up with the real world. As the next few months would roll out things would be hard for us in many different ways, but the healing and memories we had on our trip back would often carry us through.




     

Experiencing the Dining Car as It Use To Be

Train travel in the United States today is a far cry from what it once was. Only the long distance passenger trains have dining cars, and although the food is good and passengers are presented with a menu to choose from breakfast, lunch, and dinner much of the food comes semi-prepared. Dining on Amtrak is still a treat, and well worth experiencing both for its coolness factor and historical connection. Dining by rail though was once something completely different from what it is now. 

Back before the disintegration of the great passenger trains, dining by rail was something that helped distinguish one railway from another. Some railways even became famous for particular items on their dining car menus. Food on the dining car wasn't just sustenance to eat while the train sped along for many miles but instead it had become a gourmet dining experience that was on par with some of the larger cities finest gourmet eating establishments.

It wasn't always this way though dining cars really didn't come into fully functional service until around the time of World War I. Before then various food service  cars had been experimented with, railways tried everything from lunch cars to buffet cars to café cars, all of which came with varying results. Most of these experiments started back around the time of the transcontinental railway and lasted all the way through the late 19th century into the very early 20th century. For the most part though if passengers wanted to eat along the way in this time period it required passengers to deboard trains at towns where the locomotive was forced to stop to take on coal and water. One can only imagine the inconvenience of having to do such a thing especially with having to worry about weather or the possibility of missing ones train and/or meal. 

It was during this same period time that the Santa Fe Railway entered into an agreement with the Fred Harvey Company. The Fred Harvey Company would provide eating establishments at larger whistle stops for the Santa Fe and the Santa Fe would agree to extend the time it took take on coal and water for their trains so that customers could have a leisurely meal at one of Harvey's restaurants. These restaurants became known as Harvey Houses, and I will take a deeper look at some Harvey Houses in postings to come. But Harvey Houses did something else they gave passengers a quality meal that was stress-free since Harvey Houses were located close to the Santa Fe tracks, the food was prepared in conjunction with trains that where stopped over, and managers would often wonder the Harvey House dining rooms notifying passengers of departing trains.

As a decades wore on locomotive's became more technically advanced which required them to stop less for coal and water. Eventually locomotives only had to make longer stops at larger cities meaning many of the whistle stops where they had previously allowed passengers to the leave the train in order get a meal where now totally bypassed as the train passed through them at high speed. For the railways it was time to finally have onboard dining facilities. By the 1910's advancements in onboard cooking, and refrigeration finally gave the railways the chance to produce effective dining cars. By the 1930s dining cars were at their peak, and so to was each railways need to brag that it had the best food. To say the least the battle between the railways for the best dining car would carry-on for 30 more years finally culminating in the 1960s with the Santa Fe Super Chiefs Turquoise Room, a special five-star dining room located in the Super Chiefs dining car and known for attracting the glitz and glamour of movie stars and other famous people of the era. 

By the 1970s the railways, specifically the passenger lines would go into to decline and many of them would disappear from memory. However memories of the wonderful food on their dining cars still remain and some have dedicated themselves to maintaining the memory of this food.

The books above James D Porterfield's Dining By Rail, and George H Foster and Peter C Weiglen's The Harvey House Cookbook are two great books commemorating the railway dining experience.

Dining By Rail functions as both a great history book and cookbook. Porterfield gets in-depth with the evolution of dining cars on various railways and then also manages to get in depth with how the various railways came about designing some other most famous menu options. Porterfield carefully brings together some brief histories and recipes from over 40 different railways. One of my favorite parts of this book is when Porterfield mentions the great French Toast Battle in which the Northern Pacific, Soo Line, Union Pacific, Santa Fe, and Pennsylvania railways try to compete for the best French Toast recipe, and you can find the French Toast recipe for each of these railways right here in this book.  There are hundreds of other excellent recipes from the railway dining cars listed in this book as well as a lot of great insight into life in the dining car. It's well worth the read in these recipes are definitely worth trying at home if you want to get a taste of how high-quality the food was I many of these dining cars.

The Harvey House Cookbook is another fantastic book to add to the overall experience of dining by rail. The book is dedicated to Harvey Houses, but is intermixed with recipes from various Santa Fe passenger trains. This is another fantastic book for gaining both historical insight into the operations of Harvey Houses and Santa Fe passenger trains and for just getting overall taste of what it must been like to actually have eaten at these places during their heyday. The book covers some of Fred Harvey's most notable resorts like the La Posada in Winslow, AZ, and the La Fonda in Santa Fe, NM, as well as some of it's other operations like Los Angeles, and Chicago Union Stations, and Chicago's Midway Airport. This book has a fantastic layout in which the historical text is in between the recipe sections which are themselves laid out by meal segments. All though this book isn't as in depth with Harvey House history as some other books it is a fantastic and should I say hands on or taste buds on introduction to Harvey House's which is extremely unique for any book on this subject. The book also allows us to see how dining cars where developed by giving us a peek into the period in which rail travel dining transferred from Harvey Houses to actual dining cars since some recipes in this book come from the California Limited, Santa Fe's precursor to the Chief and Super Chief, and the first of their trains to present onboard dining in a first class manor.

I must own 2 dozen books on the Santa Fe, but of all of them these two are the only ones that give me a real feel for what it must have been like to have been there, and put this piece of history in such human terms through a connection to food.

Dag Nabbit

A few weeks back I had the privilege of guest blogging for The Boron Sun. The piece I wrote was about the 1940 film 20 Mule Team, a forgetten film I had seen some years back, and that had some relevance to the town of Boron's history. In the process of doing research on the film, so I could dot all my I's and cross all my T's, I discovered the film was actually suppose to be set in the town of Dagget, CA. 

Now, being a Route 66 and Santa Fe Railway enthusiast and amateur historian my mind suddenly clicked in with the question, "Dagget? Isn't that a town off 66?", 30 seconds later and with the help of Google maps I had my answer. Yes,  Dagget is off of old 66 directly East of Barstow, and Santa Fe's Super Chief and all it's other famous liners ran through it. Then I began to see Dagget in my mind with its hodgepodge of desert abodes, and it's creepy looking experimental solar power plant with that weird tower. If you didn't know any better you would mistake Dagget for being nothing more then Barstows outskirts which in all reality it is.

 

In the process of doing my research though I actually found some information about the town that was somewhat astonishing. Turns out Dagget at one time was very much the place to be, and a lucrative one at that. This small now nearly forgotten town was a hub for silver and boron mining in the 1880's and believe it or not it is actually the latter element and not the former that bought the town most of its wealth. 

But, if your like me your asking yourself, "If Dagget is so close to Barstow, then why wasn't Barstow the center for these operations?". I have a few theory's on this. 

One is that Santa Fe wanted Barstow to have a certain image. You see Barstow was the railways town it was even named it after a Santa Fe president. So I believe  Santa Fe wanted it to be a place where railway workers could live and raise families, with the whole churches, schools and civilization in the West thing. 

Another theory which may also go hand in hand with the first, is that Barstow had a Harvey House, which fed and accomodated tourists. So Santa Fe wanted a town that showed the West and cross country train travel in the best light possible. They wanted an image that mirrored Harvey Houses, that where clean and genteel with their fine linens, top quality food, first class accommodations and pretty young waitresses in black dresses with immaculate white aprons. 

So more then likely hoping to suit either or both of the above theories, Santa Fe (AT&SF) Couldn't have the goings on of a mining town in Barstow.  So Santa Fe decided to keep all of the mining based business of mining towns and what came with them slightly off site in Dagget. This also kept mining trains out of Santa Fe's crowded yards for loading and unloading of mine inputs and outputs. 

When comes to Dagget though you have to realize that it was actually Calico, a town to the North of Dagget where most of the silver mines and a few borate mines where. But Calico was not serviced by any major rail links, meaning silver was transported to Dagget for rail shipment, and in the process a lot of money exchange hands in this town making it a boomtown. But, at the same time borates where almost as lucrative, since borates much like now days had many uses and attracted many buyers. Boron of course had to be mined in Death Valley, and was carried into Dagget via the famous "20 Mule Team". But the 20 Mule Team's where slow, and could only carry so much, and it was only a matter of time till a railway the Borate and Dagget, was established as a spur line to carry borates out of Death Valley and into Dagget as the name implies. 

The Borate and Dagget Railway became highly lucrative and spurred the creation of the Pacific Borax Corporation, later called US Borax, maker of the famed Boraxo soap product and a modern miner and distributor of borates. But Pacific Borax would eventually move to Mojave, California 78 miles to the West, due to the fact that it served both Santa Fe and Southern Pacific trains and lines to San Francisco and Los Angeles could be easily served in one spot. 

Daggets mining heyday would finally come to an end around 1900, when Calico and would see the last of its mines for both boron and silver play out. But Dagget wouldn't go through a major decline though until after World War 2 thanks in part to both the Santa Fe Railway and Route 66 running through it. 

The town would also see a lot of traffic from Route 66. This also helped associate Dagget with one of Route 66's most famous movies derived from one of its most famous literary works. The film version of Grapes of Wrath would be filmed on Route 66 in Dagget in 1940 coincidentally the same year 20 Mule Team was made about Dagget but not filmed there. 

More then likely Daggets final decline happened after I-40 moved traffic south of town. Meaning Dagget was another victim of the Route 66's decommissioning. 

Today there isn't much to see in Dagget and there is not even a sign it was a mining hub a 100 years ago. But you can still see Santa Fe's BNSF descendent's running through town regularly, and watch tourist take sections of old Route 66 though town.