Cruise into a retro wonderland at Russell’s Travel Center, a hidden gem on Route 66 in New Mexico. More than just a pit stop, it’s a retro wonderland with classic cars, a free vintage museum, juicy burgers, and unbeatable milkshakes. Whether you're fueling up or time-traveling through Americana, Russell’s delivers old-school charm with modern flair, and they have a great story to share.
40 Fueling Nostalgia
By Mitchell Brown
Step back in time at Shea’s Gas Station in Springfield, Illinois— a Mother Road treasure bursting with the magic of yesteryear. This lovingly preserved spot showcases antique pumps, quirky memorabilia, and vintage roadside charm that captures the spirit of America’s Mother Road. It’s not just a photo op— it’s a storybook slice of history that turns every visitor into a time traveler.
50 A Family Legacy
By Nick Gerlich
In El Reno, Oklahoma, The Tribune isn’t just a newspaper— it’s a shining example of the great American tradition: the family-run business. Passed down through generations, this hometown paper blends passion, perseverance, and print to tell the stories that matter. Meet the family behind the bylines, where community and commitment go hand in hand—and every edition feels like home.
56 A Taste of Tradition
By Jim Lüning
White Fence Farm in Romeoville, Illinois, is a dining destination like few others. Open since the 1920s, it’s known for its signature chicken, sprawling grounds, and quirky touches like coin-operated player pianos and an on-site petting zoo. With nearly a century of hospitality under its belt, this offbeat institution continues to surprise, delight, and feed generations of happy guests.
68 Timeless Tastes
By JoAnn Chang
Red Cedar Inn, nestled in Pacific, Missouri, opened in 1934 along Route 66 and became a popular stop for travelers. Though it closed in 2005, its log cabin structure still stands today, serving as a museum and visitor center. The building preserves the rich history of this iconic Missouri landmark, and offers echoes of its colorful past.
ON THE COVER
The Arizona Route 66 Fun Run as it passes through Seligman, AZ. Photograph by Efren Lopez/ Route66Images.
Chief Yellowhorse Trading Post, Lupton, AZ. Illustration by Chandler O’Leary.
There’s something about a road trip across America that makes you feel like you’re chasing ghosts. Not the kind that rattle chains, but the ones that linger in long-abandoned gas stations, in sadly forgotten motels, in the cracked smile of a fiberglass giant holding a hot dog aloft like a beacon. Nowhere is this more true than on Route 66 — a 2,448-mile vein of asphalt and memory that winds from Chicago to Santa Monica and refuses, stubbornly, to be anything less than myth. But a drive across America’s most famous stretch of road isn’t only about nostalgia. It’s about mystery. Route 66 is not a museum piece; it’s alive in the weirdest, most infectious, vibrant way. It hums with the kind of secrets that only show themselves through the windscreen.
Take, for instance, the Gemini Giant in Wilmington, Illinois. Towering in his huge space helmet, clutching a rocket like he is still preparing for a 1965 space mission, he stares out over his quiet town. He doesn’t speak. He doesn’t move. But try standing beneath him and not feel like you’ve slipped slightly out of phase with reality. He’s not a statue. He’s a poignant reminder of a different time––in concrete boots. Route 66 is littered with these kinds of enigmas—enormous fiberglass giants, haunted motels, giant arrows in the middle of the desert. The line between kitsch and cosmic becomes very thin at 50 mph. You start to wonder what it all means, and then you wonder why you’re wondering. A lot of Route 66 feels like a riddle with no punchline, a giant story that America told itself in the 1950s and 60s. But here’s the thing: the mystery isn’t just in the attractions. It’s in the landscape. It’s in the conversations at diners where the waitress calls you “hon” and refills your coffee like you’ve been coming in for years. It’s in the sudden silence when your radio runs out of signal, and you realize the desert is really, really quiet. It’s in the impulse to stop the car for no reason, just because you saw a tumbleweed blow by or may have spotted a turtle crossing the road and need to take a look.
No one finishes a Route 66 trip the same person they were at the start. You shed bits of yourself along the way. You gain others in exchange — an appreciation for the absurd, a tolerance for the wind and silence, a respect for the sheer endurance of the seemingly forgotten. And maybe that’s the most American thing of all: that the most enduring route through the heart of the country is also its most unusual and unpredictable. The road doesn’t promise answers. It doesn’t even promise arrival. Just discovery.
In this issue, we focus in on a few of the many stories that define the highway. In Illinois, we start off not far from the very beginning of the route, down in Romeoville at White Fence Farms. The restaurant was acquired in 1954 by Robert and Doris Hastert, and today, it remains a family-owned establishment, with their granddaughter, Laura Hastert, serving as the current owner and manager. We love family-focused tales, and this is a good one!
Down in silent Arlington, Missouri, stands the remains of Stony Dells, a once popular tourist destination that became a local favorite, too. Built in the early 1930s by George and Vernon Prewett, it was a leader in its time. The resort declined after Route 66 was rerouted in 1946 and was largely abandoned by 1967, but its ghosts still roam free. Another story that we have been eager to tell you has its roots in El Reno, Oklahoma. Of course, we have an affinity for small family-run newspapers, but the Tribune is special. Owned and operated by the Dyer family, The El Reno Tribune , a twice-weekly newspaper, has been a cornerstone of local journalism since its founding in 1929. While the print media business may have changed over the years, this paper is proof that good journalism has not!
The super cool Russell’s Travel Center, located in the near ghost town of Glenrio, New Mexico, just 42 miles east of Tucumcari, the iconic Shea’s Gas Station in Springfield, Illinois, Hollow Mountain, a filling station built right into the Utah mountains, and more fill the pages of the June/July — our huge summer issue. So, this season, surrender to the neon glow and windswept plains, half curious, half content, letting the road unfold in its own rhythm. Route 66 doesn’t need to explain itself—it reminds you that wonder still waits around unexpected corners. And somehow, that’s more than enough.
Blessings,
Brennen Matthews
Editor
ROUTE
PUBLISHER
Thin Tread Media
EDITOR
Brennen Matthews
DEPUTY EDITOR
Kate Wambui
EDITOR-AT-LARGE
Nick Gerlich
LEAD EDITORIAL
PHOTOGRAPHER
David J. Schwartz
LAYOUT AND DESIGN
Tom Heffron
DIGITAL
Yasir Ahmed
ILLUSTRATOR
Jennifer Mallon
EDITORIAL INTERNS
Emma Steinmetz
Jake Baur
Sojourner Crofts
CONTRIBUTORS AND PHOTOGRAPHERS
Aaron Garza
Chandler O’Leary
Efren Lopez
Jim Lüning
JoAnn Chang
Katy Pair
Kevin Archer
Mitchell Brown
Sarah L. Boyd
Editorial submissions should be sent to brennen@routemagazine.us.
To subscribe or purchase available back issues visit us at www.routemagazine.us.
Advertising inquiries should be sent to advertising@routemagazine.us.
ROUTE is published six times per year by Thin Tread Media. No part of this publication may be copied or reprinted without the written consent of the Publisher. The views expressed by the contributors are not necessarily those of the Publisher, Editor, or service contractors. Every effort has been made to maintain the accuracy of the information presented in this publication. No responsibility is assumed for errors, changes or omissions. The Publisher does not take any responsibility for unsolicited manuscripts or photography.
ILLINOIS ROUTE 66 MINING MUSEUM
Illinois is home to a multitude of small towns and hidden gems along Route 66. Amongst these small towns sits the unassuming village of Godley, a tiny place with a population of about 600 residents. Once known as a “boom” town, the Illinois Route 66 Mining Museum stands as a reminder of the town’s past lucrative mining industry.
This micro-museum, as some would call it, houses a fascinating collection of historic artifacts from the coal rush in tandem with its town’s colorful history, and while often passed by, this is a stop that everyone should make.
Constructed in 2011, the museum is at home in the remains of an old 1970s garage. From conception, work crews came in to restore the structure and get it ready to showcase the town’s pivotal story, and by 2012, it was ready for its grand opening. While the building had no significance, the land on which it lies was once home to the first village hall; a nice touch of nostalgia.
“We moved to Godley, and I just started learning about it,” said Catherine Costello, one of the founders of the mining museum. “It has such a colorful history, whether you go from the mining days, the railroad, prohibition, and even the Al Capone days. The time that I was there, I’ve been out of state for three years now, there was still a lot of old timers [around] who were alive during a whole lot of this history. It was just too rich not to share.”
Godley has long been associated with its rich mining history. Farmer, Thomas Byron, first struck coal, “black diamonds”, in 1864, causing the boom to quickly come to Godley only a short year later. Immigrants flocked to Godley and neighboring towns with a goal of mining in the dark pits for the wells of coal that they had to offer. By 1888, the town of Godley, which had been home to the K Mine and M Mine, officially incorporated as a village, bringing in permanent residents—starting with a whopping 500 people.. And while hard to imagine now, a short five years later, the town had a prosperous nightlife with numerous taverns and bars. “There used to be so many bars and hotels [in Godley], and then once the [K]mine left, the village left,” said
Roxanne Alton, an employee of the mining museum today.
But as with most mining operations at the time, things were not to last. As the early 1900s began, after miner strikes in the 1890s, the K mine closed, and the M mine couldn’t bring the record employment numbers of the mid-late 1800s. As other mines in the surrounding area faced a similar fate, the Godley population dropped to a mere 50 families. Miners simply left in search of other jobs.
Today, the museum holds many artifacts from the town’s mining roots: old mining tools, Torino coins, mining lanterns, old horseshoes, arrowheads, and more. The museum also houses photographs and records from the time of the boom. The founders, Catherine Costello and Monica Mack, searched through estate sales in an effort to find important gems that encompassed the local history and received donations that fossilized the history of the mines and area.
“It is something a little different than most of the landmarks,” Costello expressed. “It’s the combination of everything from the fossils, the minerals, the mining, the railroad. The diverse history [gives] it something a little different that stands out on Route 66.”
A rustic, thin silhouette makes the museum recognizable from the road. In front of the externally ordinary building, a miner and his donkey stand connected. His hand reaches for the donkey’s reins, attached forever, side-by-side. A silhouette statue personifies the museum’s significance; the influx of the mining industry that put this town on the map. Godley, while small, showcases the rooted influence that coal had in Illinois. As the Mining Museum puts Godley on the map again, this time the Route 66 map, it marks the rich history that many small towns have had erased. Illinois is filled with Route 66 landmarks to visit, but as you cross through Godley, don’t forget to stop at this small but history-infused museum and discover how the world underground so greatly impacted the growth and development of this Mother Road destination.
66.
Photograph by David J. Schwartz –Pics On Route
KING OF THE ROAD
Photograph by Brennen Matthews
Across America, murals have turned walls into vibrant storytellers, capturing the history, spirit, and character of towns and cities. Nowhere is this more evident than along Route 66, where murals serve as landmarks on the iconic “Mother Road.” These pieces of art reflect the essence of their communities and celebrate the legacy of America’s most famous highway. From scenes of the road and Western themes to portraits of local figures, history is vividly brought to life. While towns like Pontiac, Illinois, and Cuba, Missouri, are especially known for their murals, one small Oklahoma town boasts a hidden gem honoring its own beloved figure.
Erick, Oklahoma, with a population of just under a thousand residents, is a modest historic town. One of its most notable claims to fame, however, is its connection to country music legend, Roger Miller, a bond the town celebrates with a mural of the witty country star. The mural adorns the side of a 1929 building located at the corner of Roger Miller Blvd. (aka Route 66) and Sheb Wooley Ave. The latter street is named in honor of Sheb Wooley, a fellow country-western legend and Erick native who had a profound impact on Miller’s early years. The brick building once housed a café and drugstore, and it later became home to the Roger Miller Museum until its closure in 2017, due to financial difficulties. Today, the building operates as a flower shop.
“There’s a few of the older people around Erick who knew Roger. He was a cut up,” said Joel Everett, a Muskogee events coordinator who assisted in organizing the mural project. “Those people remember him because he would be the guy in class that you were like, ‘I can’t believe he did that’. He was really connected to Erick and when he had his TV show, that was part of his jokes. His monologue often had something about Erick in it, some joke or story about town. He was very connected to the community.”
Roger Dean Miller was born in Fort Worth, Texas, in January 1936, the youngest of Jean and Laudene Miller’s three sons. Tragically, in 1937, just a year after his birth, Jean passed away from spinal meningitis. Amid the hardships of the Great Depression and unable to manage the care of her three young sons alone, Laudene saw no choice but to place each of her children with relatives. Roger was sent to live with his aunt and uncle, Armelia and Elmer Miller, on their farm on the outskirts of Erick. Roger’s childhood in Erick was spent picking cotton on the farm and attending a one-room schoolhouse, which he found monotonous. His passion for music was sparked when local rodeo wrangler Sheb Wooley, married Miller’s cousin. Wooley, who was fifteen years older than Roger, took him under his wing and gave him his first fiddle and showed him how to play guitar chords.
As a teenager, Roger became restless. Wooley had moved to Hollywood to pursue a career as a singer or actor, and Roger was eager to follow in his footsteps. At 17, he had a run-in with the law for stealing a guitar and was presented with the
option to enlist in the Army or serve jail time. He enlisted. After his discharge, he moved to Nashville, where he got his break by joining Minnie Pearl’s band as a fiddle player. By the late 1950s, Roger Miller had gained modest recognition as a songwriter. To further his career, he moved to Hollywood and signed with Smash Records, recording fifteen songs in just two days. Hits like “Chug-a-Lug” and “Dang Me” launched him into stardom. His 1965 hit “King of the Road” topped the charts and achieved gold certification, cementing his status as a leading country artist. In 1974, he contributed to Disney’s “Robin Hood,” and in the 1980s, collaborated with Willie Nelson and wrote the Tony Award-winning musical “Big River,” adapted from “The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn,” making him the first country artist to receive this honor. Sadly, his career was cut short when a solo guitar tour in 1990 was interrupted by a diagnosis of lung cancer. He passed away on October 25, 1992, in Los Angeles.
When the museum honoring his legacy closed in 2017, there was a need for a new way to commemorate his life. The board of the Roger Miller Museum and Everett, who had assisted in organizing fundraising events, particularly the trail runs, for the museum in the past, got to work on brainstorming what would be the best way to honor their hometown hero.
“After the museum shut down, we decided that we needed to do something, since the museum wasn’t there, to continue to let people know that Erick was Roger Miller’s hometown,” continued Everett. “We looked at the possibility of bronze, but the total package was outside of our budget. We looked at our range of possibilities, but thought, ‘People don’t always like to get out of their cars. A mural could have more of an impact.’ And it’s right there on the corner of Roger Miller and Wooley. So, we had the opportunity and the place to do it.”
Utilizing leftover funds from the museum and additional fundraising from the annual DoWackaDo Runs, the project came to life. Everett enlisted Bryan Lewis, a photorealistic muralist from North Carolina known professionally as JEKS, after discovering his work on social media. With photographs approved by Miller’s widow, Mary, Lewis undertook the mural project in August 2021, completing it over the course of a week. The mural design features Miller in five poses. At its heart, is a color headshot, with Miller’s charismatic expression and iconic smile rendered with meticulous detail. His eyes seem to sparkle with the same mischief and charm that characterized his music. On either side are two black-and-white portraits of Miller, framed by a classic Route 66 sign honoring Roger Miller’s deep connection to the legendary highway.
So, next time you’re cruising through Oklahoma, stop in Erick and take in this colorful depiction that provides a visual connection to the era when Route 66 was a bustling thoroughfare, and pays homage to the legacy of a musician who shaped American music and brought joy to millions.
THE GHOST OF STONY DELL
Photograph by David J. Schwartz - Pics On Route 66
Tucked away, not far from Route 66 in Arlington, Missouri — about 120 miles west of St. Louis — lies the vine-covered stone ruins of what was previously one of the most unique and treasured stops on the historic highway. Once the stomping grounds for World War II soldiers and movie stars like Mae West, all that remains of the once popular Stony Dell resort are abandoned stone fragments and mere echoes of the laughter and entertained chatter that once filled it.
Opened in 1932 by Vernon Prewett, Stony Dell quickly became one of the most popular roadside attractions of its time. Built with an artful appreciation of native stone and rock, the development was split into two by historic Route 66. The northside featured rustic cabins, and on the southside, across the highway and through an intricate stone archway, was a swimming pool, a two-story building with 54 dressing rooms, and a bustling restaurant.
Born in 1907, the youngest child of George — a merchant with business interests in Arlington, Jerome, and Newburg — and Sarah Prewett, Vernon Prewett was raised in nearby Phelps County. Vernon forged his own path at an early age, train hopping and hitchhiking to the West Coast at only fourteen years old. It is likely that it was during this experience that he learned the art of stone working — picking up odd construction jobs along the way. By his early 20s, he was back in Arlington. Using his masonry knowledge, Vernon began constructing his vision — using fieldstone, flat rock, and sandstone native to the Ozarks — on family land near his father’s filling station and general store.
“Vern’s motivation was probably Route 66 and the tourist traffic that it was bringing. Tourist camps and other roadside businesses were beginning to appear along the road in the rural counties of Phelps and Pulaski,” said Terry Primas, author of Route 66 in Pulaski, Missouri: A local history. “His father, George, already had a roadside business and Vern probably wanted to make his own mark.”
And make his mark he did. By the time that Stony Dell Swimming Pool — as the property was advertised at the time — had its grand public opening ceremony in May 1932, it was already a hit with locals who had enjoyed some time there, trying to beat the heat the previous summer. Though not the first swimming pool in the area, Vernon’s development was among the most impressive at 100-feetlong, by 40-feet-wide. A stone fountain supplied the massive pool with cool artesian water from nearby wells, providing a refreshing escape from the Ozark heat. Actually, the pool was known to be quite frigid, but that didn’t stop the constant visitors. The resort, already popular with locals, soon became a prime stop and part of the quintessential American road trip experience for Route 66 travelers, too, seeking a peaceful retreat amid Missouri’s Ozark scenery. While his wife, Zelma, managed the restaurant with its live spring-fed fish tanks, Vernon concentrated on expanding his development. In 1935, Stony Dell Park opened with a sandy beach, swings, and park benches, the perfect spot for a picnic. The same year, the Dell welcomed “The Human Seal,” an individual who came and showcased upside down swimming and Egyptian Floating, among other shows of
underwater skill. In 1937 and 1938, Stony Dell hosted exhibitions for professional divers and swimmers, a welcome use of the three diving boards of varying heights at one end of the pool. Beauty contests, live music, pool parties, swimming lessons, and even a zoo studded Stony Dell’s itinerary during peak popularity. None, though, would be as infamous as a visit from wisecracking movie star, Mae West. And when Fort Leonard Wood military base opened in 1941, Dell’s popularity and traffic soared to the point that policemen had to be deployed on weekends to direct movement in the area. It was an exciting time that must have felt like it would never end.
However, as World War II reshaped the nation, the resort’s future began to shift. In 1941, Vernon and Zelma divorced and he left the county to aid the U.S. military, leaving the burden of running Stony Dell squarely on his father’s shoulders.
“While Vern seems not to have been in uniform, he worked in the defense industry in some capacity after he left in ‘41. As far as Vern’s motivation for leaving Stony Dell, that may have been patriotism, as the country was mobilizing for the coming war,” Primas explained.
After World War II, Vernon did return to Pulaski County — with his second wife, Sarah Bowman — however, he never returned to the Dell. Instead, he shifted his focus to building homes, businesses, and commercial structures in the county.
The resort’s fortunes began to decline as post-war travel trends shifted, and in 1950, George sold Stony Dell to W.R. Brown, who then sold it to Fred and Ester Widener in 1954.
The Wideners operated Stony Dell with their children Katie and Harry working admissions, lifeguarding, and conducting swimming lessons. Fred operated the restaurant and opened a nearby gift shop on the north side of the highway, specializing in antiques, but the once-bustling destination struggled to maintain its charm.
As for Vernon Prewett, after a stint in the Mount Vernon Sanitarium in 1963 due to cement dust in his lungs, he moved to Kingsport, Tennessee — in 1965 — and operated a bicycle shop. Sadly, he passed away in 1977 at age 71, leaving behind four children from his marriage with Sarah.
In 1965, Stony Dell changed hands for the last time when the Missouri Highway Department acquired the property to make way for the construction of Interstate 44, which would replace Route 66 through the state. As traffic shifted and the iconic highway was decommissioned, Stony Dell fell into irrecoverable decline. Its moment in the sun was up. By 1966, the wrecking ball delivered its final blow to the resort.
“Stony Dell was a unique attraction on Route 66. Its uniqueness was a combination of geology, meaning the rock, hydrology, specifically the artesian well that filled it, and Vern Prewett’s craftsmanship and ambition. It was right for its time, but its time ran out,” noted Primas.
Today, the physical remnants of Stony Dell resort are few, hiding among the trees, nearly undetectable from the highway. Only four archways remain standing, their natural coloring blending in with the lush green forest that now threatens to engulf them, a sad echo of the past for those who know to look.
HORSEPOWERED HEARTBEAT
Remember when driving was a joy? Back when you drove to escape, to feel that rush of freedom, or to connect with the person across that bucket seat from you. You’d share a smile when that one song came on; the stereo would get turned up, and windows would get rolled down. You can recapture that moment—or find it for the first time—on Route 66. Feel that horsepowered heartbeat that you’ve been missing in America’s Heartland.
RUSSELL’S TRAVEL CENTER
By Aaron Garza
Photographs by Katy Pair
The atmosphere surrounding Glenrio, a town straddling the Texas-New Mexico border, is characterized by an eerie, nostalgic stillness, evoking memories of its bustling past during the heyday of Route 66. Founded in 1903 when the Rock Island and Pacific Railroad extended its line to the area, the town thrived as a railroad town, but it was with the establishment of Route 66 in 1926 that Glenrio boomed. Businesses catering to motorists such as gas stations, diners, and motels, the most notable being the First/Last Motel, sprung up, and Glenrio became a key stop for travelers journeying along the Mother Road. Then came the construction of Interstate 40 in the late 1950s and 1960s and the destination was sadly bypassed, resulting in the closure of many local businesses. Residents moved away. The Glenrio of today remains an almost ghost town, a poignant and evocative symbol of a bygone era. However, there is still one thriving business, right along I-40 on the outskirts of town. At Exit 369A — the last exit before the New Mexico/Texas state line — is Russell’s Travel Center, a notable landmark among the stark high desert landscape, that combines modern convenience with a touch of Mother Road nostalgia. Its story is one of rising up from having next to nothing, to having it all.
Coming to Cimarron
The Russell’s Travel Center story begins far from Glenrio, with a man by the name of Emory Russell. Emory grew up in a Montana logging family. He joined the U.S. Air Force in 1954, where he served for four years before getting out of the service in 1958 and starting a new life as a logger, moving across Montana and Colorado, chasing the price of logs. In 1964, Emory moved his family of six — himself, his wife Barbara, and four sons — to the small town of Cimarron, New Mexico, in search of more work. Unfortunately for the Russells, historic levels of rain in the area had flooded out the logging business, making already low housing inventory even scarcer. The Russells found themselves with no job opportunities and living in cramped shared accommodation. Things were difficult.
“There were three other logging families. We were all staying in the same apartment, a little two-bedroom — lots of people were sleeping on the floor — but that didn’t last too long. Just until everyone could find other places,” said Mark Russell, Emory’s second oldest son and former owner of the Russell’s Travel Centers.
Fate was not done yet.
With time, Emory did find employment, but one day while at work, he twisted and broke his ankle. Unable to long-haul timber with his injury, he spent his time in recovery helping his wife with running the Dairy Bar, a hamburger business that she leased after previously working there as a waitress. Emory enjoyed mingling with people, seeing the smiling
faces, and hearing all the stories. In the process, the idea of a place serving as a nexus point for travel and life was planted; although it would need a little more time to develop before it would blossom into the Russell’s Travel Center that we know today. First, there were groceries to consider.
The One Stop Shop
The early 1970s. A time of flared jeans, rock music, recreational psychedelics, war, and much more, including the Great Inflation. From the biggest cities to the smallest of towns, none escaped the stagflation scourge sweeping over the country, especially not the small town of Cimarron.
“There used to be four grocery stores in Cimarron, they were all small stores except for one, and they all went out of business,” continued Mark. “People couldn’t buy groceries for what they were selling for at the time and the stores couldn’t get ahead of it, so they all went out of business. My dad decided to put up his own grocery store.”
And just like that, the Russells were now in the grocery game. They started out in 1971 with that first little store, but Emory couldn’t help but expand. A decade later, in 1982, he opened a second grocery in Las Vegas, New Mexico, some 90 miles south of Cimarron, and sought to leverage the strength of family to grow his empire.
“I’ve got four brothers, but only three of them were in the business,” explained Mark. “I went to, what was at the time called, the Technical Vocational Institute in Albuquerque, to become a diesel mechanic. I put myself through school and worked at a grocery store to pay for my apartment and food and all that. Then my father got an opportunity to get a store in Las Vegas, New Mexico, and so he asked me if I’d come run it,” he continued. “I quit working for the company I was working for — I was a store manager at that time — and went to work for my dad. My brother Tim came to help and then my brother Rusty also joined. Eventually, we had three grocery stores in Las Vegas, New Mexico.”
People needed groceries. So, Emory kept looking for old grocery stores that were struggling and kept buying them up. The Russells spent every spare cent and every hour they could find to maintain their businesses, which would end up totaling to fourteen grocery stores across the states of New Mexico, Colorado, and Texas.
But the Russells didn’t stop with grocery stores. Whenever a business in their now settled hometown of Cimarron started to struggle and go under, Emory would help them get their heads back above water, picking up business after business to ensure that the people of Cimarron were able to meet their needs. Gas stations, laundromats, restaurants… The Russells eventually pulled a few of these separate businesses together to open Russell’s One Stop Shop, not only providing services to their fellow Cimarron residents, but employment as well.
“At one point, if I remember right, my dad was the third or fourth largest independent employer in New Mexico,” said Mark. “I remember it was quite an honor.”
With all this business success under their belt, a love for customer service firmly planted, a generational entrepreneurial spirit fired up, and ever the forward thinkers, the Russells looked back to Emory’s original livelihood that had brought them down to New Mexico in the first place, for inspiration. And what business is synonymous with the longhaul truckers that help keep the American economy moving and booming? Why, truck stops, of course!
An Oasis on the Asphalt
The Russells would go on to sell ten of their fourteen grocery stores across the states of New Mexico, Colorado, and Texas, and in 1995 opened their first travel center in Springer, New Mexico, along I-25, about 20 miles east of Cimarron. While the Russell Travel Center included everything a road traveler would need, from gas, a truck and car wash, showers, a general store, and more, the family decided to add their own unique spin to it. A diner-style restaurant and a display of six classic cars from Emory’s private collection took their travel center from being just a regular truck stop and gas station, to a destination.
“My dad grew up around ‘50s cars. He and my mother had this ’54 convertible, a real hot rod that he loved,” continued Mark. “He was a mechanic in the air force, so he was always involved in motors and after the service, worked any kind of job with cars. Parking them, moving them, driving them. That’s how he got to the logging truck driving that got us to Cimarron.”
But it was in 2010 that the Russells opened the doors of their most famous center in Glenrio, New Mexico. The location used to be the site of Longhorn II, a motel, service station, and cafe built back in the late ‘50s along the new Interstate, when New Mexico’s stretch of Route 66 was being rerouted. The Longhorn II closed in 1976, and a string of other businesses and families came and went, until the Russells settled in and proved that they were ready to stay and serve I-40’s travelers. Home to a Route 66 diner, a
Subway franchise, a gift shop, and what they tout to be the ‘best showers on the planet’, this new center added an even bigger draw: Russell’s Car Museum.
Emory first purchased a 1957 Chevrolet convertible in 1977 and from then on, his passion for classic cars had amassed a sizable collection. The museum was a perfect remedy for storage. The car museum currently houses over 20 classic vehicles ranging from a 1955 Chevrolet pickup, to a spirited 1959 Corvette, as well as memorabilia and exhibits that highlight the golden era of Route 66. The Russell family’s dedication to preserving this history is evident in every detail, from the polished chrome to the meticulously maintained interiors. With Emory’s entrepreneurial spirit, his friendly charm, and genuine interest in the lives of the folks coming through his doors, the truckers and travelers coming through New Mexico did just what was hoped for. They talked. And word spread. Russell’s Travel Center at Glenrio became more than just a pit stop; it became a cultural landmark that attracted Route 66 enthusiasts, tourists, and history buffs.
“My dad’s passion all along was for people to see his cars. When he bought a car, he didn’t keep it in the garage or just drive it around. He couldn’t wait to get it in the museum so people could see it. There are two kinds of collectors: the guy that’s collecting the vehicles for himself and the collector who collects because they want other people to see. Our car museum was free, so that everyone could come in and see all the memorabilia and cars and collectibles from a lot of different eras. The museum was a big part of our business, a big draw.”
A replica of a 1950s filling station inside of the museum.
Housing nearly three thousand collectibles — from restored gas pumps to classic oil company signs and countless other automotive paraphernalia alongside the classic car collection, the Russells’ museum drew in visitors from all over the U.S. and beyond.
A Fact and an Offer
As the wheels of time churned forward, family member after family member began to retire until Mark was the only one with his hands still officially on the reins. Emory though, industrious as ever, despite crossing the 80-year-old line, still dove in from time to time where he could, in order to keep things flowing the way he wanted, the way that got them their success in the first place. Years of work and a well-fostered community, though couldn’t stop stiff competition from popping up. After 28 years of running their travel centers, Mark was presented with two things: a fact and an offer. The fact?
“The travel center business is getting really heated and competitive. They’re building travel centers everywhere. They’re kinda like banks now, you’ve got one on every corner,” explained Mark. “I was wanting to retire; we thought this was a good time to get out.”
The offer? A buyout from TravelCenters of America. Founded in 1972, in the Buckeye State of Ohio, the
TravelCenters of America — you may be familiar with their blue and red lettered TA logo — has had a quickly changing history over the last 50 years. Starting as the Truckstops of America company founded by Phil Saunders, the company has switched hands, names, and expanded ever outward ever since. Fast forward to the 2020s, and TravelCenters of America — sporting their mainstay name since 1997 after merging with National Auto/Truckstops — has established a presence in nearly every U.S. state with over 300 gas stations, travel centers, and more, making them a familiar sight for any road traveler who knows the asphalt veins of America. And in 2023, they expanded a little bit further.
“They had actually called us about two and a half years before and asked us if we were interested in selling. At the time, we hadn’t really talked about it or thought about it, but we proceeded to consider. My mom and dad weren’t ready to let go of the museum, it was my dad’s big passion,” said Mark. “I don’t remember if it was my brother’s idea or my father came up with it, but the thought was, ‘Well, let’s see if we can keep running the museum and lease it.’
We approached TA with the idea, and they’d never done anything like that, so they asked us how we wanted it to work. The idea was that we would run it with our people, because we didn’t want anyone else to be responsible for our stuff. They agreed to it. It would have been silly for them not to because of how big of a draw to the travel center that museum is.”
The deal finally went through in early October 2023 and the Russells let go of their last travel center, having sold their Springer location to TA that same year. Now TravelCenters of America has the run of the land, but is still sporting the Russells’ name for the next couple of years, as per the agreement, while the transition fully settles in.
“We sold our grocery stores, everything but the one we started out with. Now we’ve remodeled it and gotten it straightened out. My nephew is running it. It’s our last store and it was our first store. The Russell’s One Stop Shop,” noted Mark. Their presence may be much smaller now, but the Russells are still around, comfortably situated in their chosen home of Cimarron.
Life in New Mexico for the Russells began with next to nothing, not even a whole house to themselves. If you ask them though, it wasn’t just their own hard work that won them the legacy that they’ve carved out in Cimarron and beyond.
“We give all the glory to God. How can you go from not having anything to having fourteen grocery stores to having travel centers and being known all over the United States and being able to share this with others?” said Mark. “It’s not us, it’s a Godsend. Lots of people work hard, lots of people go out of business, but we didn’t.”
With a vision to offer more than just fuel and food, the Russells set out to create a place where travelers could step back in time and experience the charm and history of Route 66. Whether you’re stopping by the travel center to stretch your legs and check out Emory’s classic car collection or exploring the nearby ghost town of Glenrio on your Mother Road adventure, know that when you leave, you carry with you a little piece of the past, a reminder of the days when the road was more than just a way to get from point A to point B. It was an adventure, a journey filled with discovery, and at places like Russell’s Travel Center, that spirit lives on.
Some old jukeboxes on display inside.
Springfield’s Oldest Barber Shop
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For travelers journeying down the winding ribbon road to visit the legendary birthplace of Route 66 — Springfield, Missouri — a barbershop may not appear noteworthy on the list of historic sites to visit, but it should be. Stretched across a glowing collection of vintage buildings dating back to the 1900s sits a small, easily overlooked structure perched between a residential sidewalk, two houses, and a freshly cut green lawn. On closer inspection, one can spot the candy-cane swirl of red, white, and blue alongside an eye-catching painted mural, the perfect photo-op. You’ve reached the one-and-only Route 66 Barbershop, the oldest barbershop in a very old town.
Established during the golden age of 1948, when barbershops flourished under the razor-sharp edge of quality cuts and conversation, the Route 66 Barbershop was first utilized by Milford Mullen and lived under another name: Mullen’s Barber Shop. A traditional barber, Mullen made the most of his business. “He built it with his own two hands for three hundred dollars,” said Grant Kendall, the current owner and lead barber today. “He started cutting hair in Aurora, Missouri, and then [after moving to Springfield] he acquired the land that was right there, and he built a house. Back then, in those early days, [people] worked where they lived, and people just came by your house.”
From the 1880s through the 1940s, barbershops were not only places men visited to get a good haircut — they were a time-honored rite of passage. A bonding experience spanning decades. Such a hallowed experience deserved recognition, and Mullen achieved just that. In his quaint little space with minty green walls and two 1940s-styled black leather barber chairs positioned in the center, Mullen worked his magic. Once Mullen had built the business into a destination, it was time to pass the legacy down to someone else. And that someone, fittingly, was Mullen’s son, Don. In 1955, Don received the best gift an eighteen-year-old boy fresh from high school in the ‘50s could ask for — he inherited his father’s business. Walking in his father’s footsteps, Don continued adding to his business and “everything that came with it.” Passing the shaving-creamcovered torch from father to son, it was only a matter of time until Kendall — a descendant from a family of barbers — would also embark down the road of this meaningful career. And in 2011, the third-generation barber was presented with
that golden opportunity.
Trimming hair at the Florissant Barbershop in St. Louis, Missouri, Kendall yearned for a chance to stretch his wings. Eventually, word spread that Don was searching for a fresh face to run the antique shop. Through his father’s encouragement, Kendall called Don and plans were placed in motion — on December 10, 2011, he got the building.
“I was 23 when I moved here from St. Louis. I grew up in a small Missouri town called Moberly and had never been to Springfield. I was looking for work, and the barber who I got the shop from was looking for a young guy who could be there for several years. He had been there for 57 years himself and had customers, from when his dad had operated the shop. Some guys, when I first got here, had never had a haircut from anyone else in their life!”
As Kendall discovered, cutting hair for an old-school neighborhood was an exciting experience. Not only living in the Mullens’ old house and walking to work every day — the barbershop planted directly within his front yard — but also becoming part of the community. “I try to realistically carry on the tradition of what Route 66 was to that next generation of what it would be, and that’s how I categorize myself. When I moved to Springfield for this barbershop, I had no idea of the significance of Route 66. I learned the tradition of it and wanted to preserve it,” Kendall continued.
“I love the traditional feel of the shop, and we try to embrace that. In my mind, when I got out of barber school, I thought that I would have a big shop with lots of chairs and turning parts, but God had other plans. I could buy a bigger shop on a busier road but wouldn’t have what I have in this shop.”
In 2013, Kendall collaborated with Farley Lewis, a missionary and painter, to create a mural depicting the barbershop’s old-fashioned uniqueness and attract tourists worldwide. Boasting the imagery of a red-and-white 1961 Chevrolet Corvette and the flashy phrase “get your cuts on Route 66” — the “kicks” replaced with “cuts” for business flair — the mural proved to be the perfect finishing touch.
Route 66 has always been a living, breathing highway represented by impossibly tall, fiberglass giants, ornate neon buildings, and even unassuming, but welcoming barbershops.
A trip across America’s most famous road offers more than can be expected because the journey is nothing if not diverse.
DESERT VIBES
By JoAnn Chang
Photograph by Brennen Matthews
For most, it’s just a dot on the map, a tiny place in the middle of nowhere. But for others, Hanksville is an oasis in the wilds of Utah. People like Butch Cassidy used it as a way station in the past, and today the Hollow Mountain convenience store — the area’s most unique destination — serves as a fun stopping point for travelers on their journey between Moab, Capitol Reef, Lake Powell, and other popular natural attractions in southern Utah. Settlers first established Hanksville in the late 1800s, naming it after Ebenezer Hanks, one of the town’s early settlers. Butch Cassidy and his wild bunch would use it as a supply post when they hid out at Robbers Roost, southeast of town. Through the years, agriculture and mining became the focus for locals, numbering just over 100 souls today. “Back in the 40s, 50s, 60s, and through the 70s, this was a uranium center,” said Don Lusko, current owner of Hollow Mountain. “There’s big uranium deposits, and lots of uranium was mined, and pretty much everybody in town was involved in it, one way or the other.”
In 1984, Harry Thompson, a miner who had honed his skills in the uranium mines, teamed up with his friend Dan Harrison to embark on a new venture. The two noticed the steady stream of travelers passing through town, many towing boats en route to Lake Powell, and saw an opportunity to tap into that traffic. They purchased a 4.5-acre property at the intersection of highways 24 and 95 for $1,200, eager to turn their vision into reality. But they had a challenge in front of them. There was a mountain in the way.
Having a mountain dominating your property might be too much of a setback for some. Not for Harry Thompson. “They thought a gas station should be here, so they began blasting the mountain away. They were going to build a normal store but decided to make a tunnel inside the rest of the rock that was left [instead],” shared Lusko. The result is the one-of-a-kind gas station store built into a mountain, now a beloved roadside attraction. If it wasn’t for Thompson’s mining background, that corner would look very different. “That did play a big factor. That put it into their minds that it was possible to do. Somebody else buying this property to build a station, it would never have crossed their minds. They would have blasted the hill away and put up a normal building,” said Lusko.
After just two months of construction, the Hollow Mountain service station opened its doors on Memorial Day weekend in 1984. Visitors were immediately charmed by its rough stone interior walls. As time went on, more rock was blasted away to make room for bathrooms. “If you look on a map, we’re 60 miles from the nearest town in one direction, 50 miles from the nearest town in another direction, and 128 miles from the nearest town in the third direction, and we are situated right where somebody needs a bathroom, a little shot of gas, and maybe a snack. We have the nicest, cleanest restrooms for hundreds of miles.”
Don Lusko, a local rancher, started working at Hollow Mountain in 1996 as a bookkeeper for Harry Thompson in an effort to augment income from his cattle ranch. His mother’s family were some of the original settlers in Hanksville, and finding ways to stay established in the area was important to him. In 2004, when Harry was tired of running the store, Lusko decided to take the plunge. “I wanted to keep my family here in the Hanksville area, and that requires making a living,” he continued. Don and Harry shook hands on the deal and the Lusko family became the new caretakers of Hollow Mountain.
These days, just about anyone stopping by Hollow Mountain is bound to run into a member of the Lusko family. “Mainly me and my wife and my children have all taken turns working here, and my sister and her family have also participated. We’ll hire anybody that we trust to come and join the team. In a town of 105 people, the labor force is kind of small to choose from. I would rather be doing other things, but here I am working a few shifts a week myself.”
While visitors are drawn in by the convenience store inside a mountain, once in the store, they’ll find typical gas station fare. During the early days of Lusko’s ownership, he would often see visitors making big purchases of t-shirts and other souvenirs. Today’s visitors have other things in mind. “Now, it’s just get a stick of gum, use the bathroom, and get back in the car. I mean, everybody has gasoline, everybody has soda pop, everybody has junk food, but a clean restroom is hard to find,” said Lusko.
Over the years, Hollow Mountain has built up a cult following of sorts, which surprises Lusko in its reach around the world. “We had one tourist come in and share that he was in a hotel in Taipei, Taiwan, and our store was on a mural on one wall in his hotel room. Another tourist from Germany brought us a calendar — I think it’s the 1992 Mercedes Benz calendar — and there’s the front of our store, and you only see a little piece of their Mercedes Benz car. I have seen us pop up on the Travel Channel, on several touring documentaries. So yeah, I think we do have a little bit of a following. I noticed that even if somebody doesn’t stop here to shop, they’ll stop on the highway just to take a picture.”
Future visitors to Hollow Mountain are likely to find it much as it is today. The Lusko family has no plans to expand the store further into the mountain, leaving it as a lasting tribute to the resilience and determination of Hanksville’s locals. Even 50 years from now, chances are good that anyone stopping by will be greeted by a member of the Lusko family, themselves continuing the tradition. Hollow Mountain has become a part of their story, a legacy Don Lusko plans to preserve by one day passing the reins on to his son. This unwavering family dedication to the store and to Hanksville, Utah, pays homage to the pioneering spirit of both its current and past owners, and is just as enduring as the mountain itself.
FUELING NOSTALGIA
By Mitchell Brown
Photographs by David J. Schwartz - Pics On Route 66
The allure of Route 66 is rooted not just in the romance of cross-country travel and the freedom and adventures that it promises, but much of its magic lies in the nostalgia that it evokes, the deep appreciation for the era when it flourished. This nostalgia — generally, a longing for the past and simpler times — is what makes Route 66 impactful for so many, and what has sustained a plethora of landmarks, ensuring that they stay relevant, even decades after their doors first opened. Special locations like Shea’s Gas Station Museum in Springfield, Illinois. Once a bustling stop along the Mother Road, Shea’s now stands as a living tribute to that golden age, inspiring generations of travelers who seek not only the romance of travel, but a glimpse into a bygone era.
In the Beginning
Like many notable locations across the historic highway, the story of Shea’s Gas Station spans generations, beginning with Springfield native William “Bill” C. Shea—known early on by many simply as Bus (short for Buster). Born on December 30, 1921, Shea spent much of his childhood hanging around a local Texaco station, where he formed a close bond with the owner, Moise “Mud” Deruy. Little did he know that this humble gas station and his early friendship with Mud would kick off a career in the industry that would later become his legacy.
In 1941, at the ripe age of 19, Shea joined the U.S. Army and headed off to fight in World War II. While overseas, he was fortunate to survive the Allied invasion of Normandy (known more commonly as D-Day) and served his country well, earning himself five European Theater battle stars and a Pathfinder badge. After the war, he returned to Springfield, where his old friend Deruy offered him an opportunity at the station. Shea agreed to a partnership, and they renamed the gas station Deruy and Shea Texaco. Tragically, some years later, Deruy passed away from a blood infection, leaving Shea to carry on the business on his own, which he did for the next eight years, working seven days a week serving Route 66 travelers and locals alike. By 1955, Bill had outgrown the small Texaco station. So, he closed it down and opened a bigger and better (heated with inside bays) Marathon brand gas station only a few blocks away at 2075 N Peoria Road. It is still a prime spot on Route 66. Here, he continued to serve millions of travelers for many years until the winds of the Eisenhower interstate system began to sweep the nation. The oil embargo in the early 1970s also created a decrease in the number of gas customers, and the EPA standards on storage required a significant upgrade in fuel tanks. Thus, by 1982, Bill Shea decided to stop selling fuel and pivoted to selling truck accessories: Shea’s Finest Truck Covers. A couple of years later, Route 66 was officially decommissioned.
Bill, The Collector
Fortuitously for Shea, he was both a traveler and a collector. Over the years of running his gas stations, he spent weekends driving around Illinois, trading for items related to gas stations, oil companies, and Route 66 memorabilia. And he never really got rid of anything. So, by the time he stopped selling fuel, his station was packed with treasures that he had gathered: old gas pumps, oil cans, gas company signs, vintage candy, cigar boxes, and even wooden telephone booths, which filled the store to the brim. Tourists and travelers who still journeyed along the old road continued to stop by, snap some photos, and chat with Shea, gradually turning his station into a roadside attraction in its own right; a museum that celebrated not only the highway’s significance but also the culture and memories tied to the era of road trips and filling stations.
“I believe that Grandpa’s decision to display his collectibles and begin sharing them with the world is what kept him alive for so many years and gave him purpose,” said Tiffany M. Baker, Bill’s granddaughter. “He was a very stoic man with a dry sense of humor, but he thoroughly enjoyed the distance people would travel to see him and his collection. He always wanted to know their name and where they were from, and you couldn’t leave without signing a guest book.” That guest book became something of a trademark for both Shea and the gas station because it became a point of pride for how many names were in it and the number of countries that the visitors hailed from, cementing both the famed nature of the road and his place in its culture.
Like Father, Like Son
As his now roadside attraction and museum gained popularity, Shea, now in his 70s, found himself needing assistance managing it. His wife Helen helped operate the station, but she was also balancing work being an inspector at Sangamo Electric. Fortunately, their only son, Bill T. Shea, stepped in to lend a hand. A devoted son and family man, Bill T. — a fellow veteran who served in the Vietnam War — found himself with some free time on his hands after retiring from the Operating Engineers local union. He also shared his father’s passion for welcoming guests and wanted to support him in continuing to do what he loved, even as his father’s health declined. With his warmth and charm, Bill T. quickly became just as familiar to the visitors as his father, making them excited to return time and time again to say hello.
Although he didn’t officially take ownership of the station, Bill T. was dedicated to preserving its history and legacy. He made it a point to be there every day with his father, and like him, he found a more profound sense of purpose and joy through their shared passion, especially when engaging with travelers from around the globe. One of his favorite activities was giving tours of the station museum to visitors, which earned him the affectionate title of “Bill Shea, Tour Guide,” from his family.
Over the years, the station evolved into a multi-generational hub for the Shea family. It became a cherished destination for the five grandkids to visit their grandfather. Saturdays during the school year and summer months were often spent there, making it the go-to spot for family gatherings. The kids swept the floors, trimmed weeds, and learned how to maintain the property. It was here that they also learned
to weld, prep camper shells, and collect aluminum cans, crushing them with a forklift to cash in for spending money. A particularly special spot was Shea’s napping loft. This elevated space overlooked the station floor, allowing him to keep an eye on visitors while he worked. It also served as a cozy retreat for the kids, where they could relax and watch Saturday morning cartoons. It was a place where they created joyful childhood memories and cherished time with their father and grandfather. In 1993, after 47 years of being a fixture of the Springfield community and on Route 66, and for everything he accomplished in his life and what he witnessed in the war — even returning to Omaha Beach twice for the 40 th and 50 th anniversaries of D-Day in 1984 and 1994, respectively — Bill Shea was inducted into the Route 66 Hall of Fame. December 30, 2011, Bill’s birth date, was declared Bill Shea Day in Springfield, to honor what he and his family had done for the community.
End of an Era
By 2013, Shea faced health issues that required hospitalization, ultimately reaching a point where he and Helen could no longer live independently. Their health forced them to transition to a nursing home. When the couple moved into the nursing home, it signaled the end of the museum’s regular hours. At that time, neither he nor Bill T. — who was in his 60s at that point — were in good enough health to manage it, and the grandkids were not in a position
to take it over. Sadly, Bill Shea passed away on December 14th of that year at the age of 91. Helen followed soon after, a year later, in December 2014. She was 96. Since the business wasn’t profitable, only charging one to two dollars for entry, which wasn’t sufficient to cover expenses and often required out-of-pocket payments, it meant difficult decisions had to be made.
“We did what was best for our family. This was a hobby for Grandpa, and it was also very seasonal. He may get a large quantity of visitors during the summer, but other months would go days or weeks with no one,” said Tiffany. “My father was retired and disabled and could not run this as a business. All of us grandkids had full-time jobs and could not maintain it either. As much as we hated to see it go, we wanted to see our father get to do the things that he enjoyed while he still had time.”
By 2015, the property and the contents of the building were put up for auction, with certain items of the collection preserved by Shea’s grandchildren. Among the collection was Mahan’s Filling Station, believed to be one of the oldest filling stations in Illinois, going back to the 1920s, which Shea bought in 2000. The filling station was purchased at auction by Jeff Fulgenzi and is now on display at Fulgenzi’s Pizza & Pasta, which is just up the road from Shea’s. As for the rest of his possessions, his cherished guest books were saved and were later donated to Ron Metzger, owner of Motorheads Bar & Grill, and a fellow enthusiast and collector of Route 66 memorabilia. Today, the guest books
Bill Shea.
and other pieces of the collection can still be seen in a space designed to resemble Shea’s station. This seemed like it would be the end of the historic location’s story. Or, at least, that’s how it appeared until Randy Pickett entered the scene.
A New Beginning, Sort Off.
For nearly 37 years, Randy Pickett worked for the state of Illinois at the Department of Transportation, dedicating his entire career to roadways in various capacities. When he retired in 2015, he sought ways to fill his days. Known for his passion for classic cars, it was only natural that in 2017, he partnered with his friend Jake Niewold to launch a business in the auto repair industry, specializing in vintage vehicles. The plan was for Randy to purchase the building while Jake would handle the repair work and the client list. You can probably guess where they decided to set up shop: Shea’s Gas Station.
Randy was not a stranger to Shea’s. Having worked in Springfield, he frequently stopped by the location to browse the memorabilia, and soon became acquainted with both Bills, particularly Bill T., who revealed a surprising link to Randy’s family history. “He goes, ‘Oh yeah, I knew your great-grandfather,’” said Randy. “So, he started telling me stories about my great-grandfather owning some of the properties across the street, which I never knew. Nobody in the family ever said anything. Both Bills knew my greatgrandfather, so that was cool to have that connection.”
Although the building purchase was finalized in May 2017, the business never actually took off. Randy’s partner had to back out due to family commitments, leaving Randy with an empty building. “I had no plans for it,” said Randy. “I knew I had no ability to repair old cars. I thought about buying and selling old cars out of it, but that would’ve required a lot of red tape, and I didn’t want to take something like that on into my 60s.”
While the building sat unused, Randy received several inquiries about leasing the property. Although the offers were lucrative and could have helped him pay off the mortgage, he understood the significance of the location and was
committed to preserving Shea’s legacy.
Back in Business
In June of the same year (2017), Randy decided to park some of his cars on the property. He also added some vintage antique signs (as well as some gas pumps), displaying them in the windows. He steadily began to bring more of his gas station or automobilerelated collection into the building until it eventually filled the station. Among his collection are several cars, including a 1957 Chevy twodoor Sedan, a 1965 Corvette Stingray, a 1964 Impala, and a 1972 Jeep Commando. With no plans to use the building for profit — but instead use it to facilitate his hobby — Randy got a job as a truck driver. This allowed him to earn extra income to help cover the building’s expenses. For a time, the station seemed to be just a hobby and a means to keep him busy, or so he thought. But the city of Springfield had other interesting plans.
Fast forward to 2021. Enthusiasm for the much-anticipated Route 66 Centennial was beginning to spark renewed interest in the rekindling of lost nostalgia. Scott Dahl, the director of Springfield’s Convention & Visitors Bureau, approached Randy with a proposal to restore the station to its former glory. The city of Springfield would cover all expenses, with the total grant exceeding $100,000 aimed at restoring the building’s exterior and resurfacing the parking lot to enhance safety and aesthetics. The only commitment Randy had to make was to keep the place open until 2026, a task that required little convincing on his part.
After two years of securing funding, restoration work began in August 2023. Sadly, Bill T. was not there to see the legacy that his father had created, and one that he had championed, be given a new lease on life. He passed away on July 28th, 2023.
On May 21, 2024, the gas station officially reopened to the public, primarily for photo opportunities around the exterior, with Randy making occasional appearances to allow visitors to explore his collection inside. “Some people say that I put my blood, sweat, and tears into this place. I’m not a hero or anything; I’m just old-school. I saved it for someone else to come along,” continued Randy. “Some locals came in and said that they remembered coming in and seeing Bill, and how nice he was, and how much they missed him.
I think they were just happy it was open [again].”
Founded during the golden age of Route 66 and the Great American Road Trip, Shea’s Gas Station evolved from a bustling service station into a cherished museum. Today, it continues to not only preserve the rich history of the road for new generations of travelers, but its timeless charm continues to inspire those seeking a connection to the past, as they journey along the iconic highway. Both Bills would undoubtedly be proud.
Vintage gas pumps outside of the station.
A FAMILY LEGACY
By Nick Gerlich
Photographs by David J. Schwartz - Pics On Route
Acentury ago, the primary means of disseminating the happenings of the day was by newspaper. While radio was just finding its legs, printed media had been in place for years, and cities large and small alike typically had multiple outlets from which to get their news. Of the roughly 300 cities and towns along Route 66, this story is no different. From the anchor cities of Chicago and Los Angeles to the mid-size cities of St Louis, Tulsa, Oklahoma City, Amarillo, and Albuquerque in between, and the many dozens of tiny burgs scattered along eight states, the Fourth Estate — the press — held sway. Even in tiny El Reno, Oklahoma, eighteen newspapers — including three in German— once kept a population of fewer than 10,000 informed. It was, as some accounts relate, a newspaper graveyard. Today, only one remains, the El Reno Tribune, a third-generation, family-owned publication that is a true survivor. This comes at a time when newspapers, large and small, are worrying whether they can keep the ink flowing and the lights on.
Frontier Town
El Reno was settled in 1889, as a result of the Land Run and the coming of the Rock Island Railroad. It was named after Union General Jesse L. Reno, and nearby Fort Reno, built in 1874 in an effort to maintain peace on the Plains. Today, El Reno is a growing city of nearly 20,000 residents. Located about 40 minutes west of Oklahoma City on 66, it is showing signs of becoming an exurb, those cities far enough out to retain their small-town charm, while still close enough to be commutable to work. It is also a town known both locally and far and wide among 66 enthusiasts, as the Onion Burger capital of America. This title is supported by three tiny shops specializing in the tasty, delectable treat, and an annual festival.
It is here that brothers Ray and Sean Dyer, and their sister, Erin Thompson, publish the El Reno Tribune on Wednesdays and Saturdays. With a circulation of 3,000, they cover the happenings of not just El Reno, but also Canadian County, with a focus on the news items that tend to be overlooked by the much larger Oklahoman in OKC. While the Dyer family did not establish the newspaper, they lay claim to having owned it for more than 80 years of its existence. Now, that is something to write about.
Looking Back
Established in 1890, this part of Oklahoma became known as Oklahoma Territory, when the entirety of Indian Territory was split in half. The Democrat, one of the earliest newspapers in town, traces its lineage to 1891, when Extus Leroy Gay and William A. Clute arrived from points east and established the media outlet. Clute assumed full ownership
in early 1892, but a few months later sold it to Travis F. Hensley, who renamed it the El Reno Democrat. By then, the Rock Island Railroad had come to occupy a prominent position in the city’s economy. El Reno grew steadily with this lifeline to markets eastward. Weaker newspaper competitors were weeded out one by one.
October 1929 is a month forever etched in the history of the U.S., most notably because of the stock market crash on the 28th. But 27 days earlier, on the very first of the month, the mood was far more optimistic, not just nationally, but also in El Reno.
The Tribune started in 1929, though there were several newspapers before that. Eugene C. Pulliam, an Indiana businessman, who had been buying newspapers nationally, bought and consolidated the El Reno Democrat and the People’s Press, christening it the El Reno Tribune.
Pulliam subsequently hired Raymond Joseph “Ray” Dyer as the Editor-Publisher of the Tribune, setting in motion three generations of Dyers at the helm. Ray was born in 1899 in Chanute, Kansas, where he developed an interest in journalism while in high school. He went off to study it at the University of Kansas, graduating in 1923.
Dyer went on to work at newspapers in Kansas City, St Joseph, Missouri, and Oklahoma City through 1927, but then switched gears to do public relations work for two firms. Yet, journalism came back calling; first in 1932, when he was named Secretary-Manager of the Oklahoma Press Association, and in July 1934, when Pulliam hired him.
A decade later, Ray bought the paper outright from Pulliam.
“Our grandfather purchased the newspaper from Eugene Pulliam back in 1944. Mr. Pulliam owned several newspapers in Oklahoma. Mr. Pulliam [had] started letting his managers — at his various newspapers — purchase them from him,” Sean recalled.
By the mid-1950s, Ray’s son John Raymond “Jack” Dyer started working at The Tribune. Jack had graduated from the University of Oklahoma, did a stint in the Army, worked as a journalist, and responded to an advertisement for a News Editor job that his father had placed in the Oklahoma Press Association.
“Our father Jack came back home and joined with his dad. He had already worked at several other papers. He and his sister Kay [bought] the paper from our grandfather in the 1960s,” Sean added.
The stability that Jack brought to the newspaper, especially at a time when Ray, Sr., was getting up in years, came to an unexpected halt. “Dad died in 1981 at the age of 49. His sister Kay then came to El Reno to help run the paper with our grandfather,” Sean recalled with sadness.
“I had already left college, and was working here,” Ray interjected. “Sean was at OSU [Oklahoma State University], and Erin was only 12 years old.”
Just like that, the El Reno Tribune found itself tossed in a sea of uncertainty.
Unwitting Accomplices
Jack’s death ushered in a new era for the newspaper as a third generation of Dyers found themselves, perhaps unplanned, in the role of publishers. The younger Ray had joined the paper the year that Jack died, functioning as a reporter and office manager, quickly learning that small family-owned businesses often require everyone to wear multiple hats.
“I started out as a paperboy. That was a lot of fun for a 12–13-year-old kid,” Ray laughed. “I tried to go to college, but it did not work out very well. I came home and started writing, went to the paper in Fort Smith [Arkansas], went to MacAlester, [Oklahoma]. I came back when my dad got sick in 1980, and I have been here ever since.” Today, he is Editor.
Sean came on board soon after leaving university. “I graduated from OSU in 1982 with a degree in Business Administration, but had [taken] a couple of journalism courses,” said Sean. “I grew up with the paper. I started working in the back, doing circulation, and hand-inserting.”
He is Co-Publisher today.
Toward the end of the 1980s, Raymond Joseph ‘Ray’ Dyer’s grandchildren — Ray, Sean, Erin, Shannon, Kelly, and Tricia — were gifted the stock of The Tribune, marking the next step of this succession process. The paper continued just as it always had, a daily newspaper with an audience footprint of just one county.
“I graduated from college in 1991,” Erin intoned. “I had a degree in fashion merchandising and marketing and was heavily involved in retail.” She had gone to work in her field but soon returned to El Reno and to the family business.
“There were two people retiring from the advertising department. I came back to work in advertising, which goes hand in hand with retail. I still get to do the retail side.” Erin started at OSU but transferred to and graduated from the University of Central Oklahoma. Today she functions as Co-Publisher and Advertising Director.
By 1993, though, perhaps reading the writing on the wall, the trio made the painful decision to change their publication schedule. “In the early 90s we had a weekly [paper] come into town to compete with us, and we were a daily newspaper back then. Those folks stayed around for a year or two, but we outlasted them,” said Ray. “That’s when Sean got the idea that we don’t need to be a daily, and we can focus on local content and publish twice a week.”
“It was hard, because we had to let people go. Fifteen or 20 people lost their job in one day over that decision,” said Ray. But like the news business everywhere, The Tribune team had to pivot.
Burying the Lede
The last quarter of a century has witnessed relentless technological and social change wreak havoc on newspapers. While competitors emerged decades ago with radio, followed by television, and then cable TV news channels, it wasn’t until the coming of the publicly available internet around 1994 that the tidal shift really had its beginnings. While the final years of the 20th Century found a digital divide between the haves and have nots, by the time the 21st Century rose above the horizon, the democratization of information started unfolding. Pocket-sized digital cameras started becoming commonplace, and while it was still somewhat clunky to have to tether by cable to a desktop computer to download photos, and then upload to discussion boards, a very nascent citizen journalism took root.
Sean and Ray Dyer, and sister, Erin Thompson.
“The society page at newspapers was the social media of their day. But today, everyone is their own editor, their own publisher. Newspapers have been set back because there is so much more information flowing so quickly. Newspapers don’t control that flow like they once did,” Sean commented. The coming of social media gave users easy platforms on which to spread the news that they captured, along with photos and commentary. Stir in smartphones, and suddenly the time lag between news happening and being reported live could drop to minutes. Even the biggest city newspapers could never hope to deploy an army of correspondents on par with a general public armed with always-on technology. The result, as begun around the turn of the century, was both newspaper circulation and the actual number of newspapers falling off a cliff. In 2000, there were about 1,500 daily newspapers in the U.S., and more than 7,500 non-daily newspapers. Today, there are about 1000 dailies and less than 4,600 non-dailies. The rate of extinction has increased to the point that every two weeks, five more fall by the wayside, either by shuttering completely, or merging with other papers.
It is in this tableau that Ray, Sean, and Erin find themselves trying to remain a viable business proposition. Even though El Reno’s population is increasing, circulation is not. The exigencies of this reality have caused them to keep The Tribune lean, but making payroll is dependent primarily upon ad sales, with the hope that there is some left for management. The complete staff includes 10 persons, including the three Dyer siblings. “We’re not into titles,” said Erin, even though they have them. “We all do whatever. We clean the bathroom, take out the trash. We wear many hats.” Local high school sports coverage, city council meeting reports, a photo of last week’s parade, and a well-written OpEd piece notwithstanding, there is no overcoming the fact that anything in print today is at best yesterday’s news. Worse yet, several people have probably already posted it to social media. However, The El Reno Tribune soldiers on. “You have to know your market. We grew up here. That’s what has given us an edge,” Sean explained. “We just continue to practice journalism. Our credibility is still our life blood.”
“We’re just more reliable than social media,” Ray said, adding that they have embraced citizen journalism when they can. “We’ve built a reputation that we try to be fair. You never have fun at another person’s expense.”
Today and Beyond
The Tribune has embraced the change around it. It now sees itself as both a newspaper and advertising company, a tactic used by multiple small-town newspapers around the nation. It’s a matter of survival.
Much of the content it published on its website is paywalled. Subscribers can choose for both newspaper and digital delivery, or digital-only. The paper also maintains a significant social media presence. With people acquiring and consuming their news in very different ways from a century ago, even 20 years ago, it behooved them to go where the eyeballs are.
Although these efforts have helped sustain The Tribune, there is still a big hint of uncertainty down the road. While Ray, Sean, and Erin are at ease in their joint ownership of their family’s newspaper, they also know that there isn’t a fourth generation to take over.
“None of our kids is interested in the newspaper,” said Ray. “They’ve all got other things and ideas. We’re trying to do everything we can to keep the newspaper locally owned, and it might involve a local foundation.” With the Dyers, there seems to be an ever-present hope. And maybe for good reason. Only 13 percent of family businesses remain in the same family for more than 60 years. Just 12 percent successfully pass from second to the third generation, and even fewer make it to the fourth generation.
But the Dyer trio remains optimistic that they can find a local entity that would show the same level of commitment as the elder Ray Dyer displayed when he bought The Tribune from Pulliam all those years ago. While their retirements are not imminent, they are not far off. It is no small wish, especially at a time when newspapers in general, and especially those in small towns, are struggling.
“My dad gave me advice when I was young. I wanted to be a football coach, and he said, ‘There’s no money in that’,” Sean said with a chuckle. “We are a close family. All six of us have worked there. Our children have all dabbled in it, our nieces, and nephews. It has always been a family operation.”
Fortunately, the three work well together, finishing each other’s sentences, and laughing off the challenges of the profession. “Sometimes we don’t get a paycheck,” Erin quipped. “We’re codependent,” Sean added. “What else would we do?” Erin shot back.
The Dyer family, though, has been up for that struggle all along. Printer’s ink has run through their veins all these years, and they do not want to see that inkwell run dry. The Tribune may be tiny compared to the big city press, not to mention television networks and the internet, but there is still plenty of news fit to print in El Reno and The Tribune is just the place to feature it.
Front pages of El Reno Tribune.
A TASTE OF TRADITION
By Jim Lüning
Opening photograph by David J. Schwartz - Pics On Route 66
For most travelers, eating along Route 66 is as much a quest for the best as searching for those iconic roadside attractions that have made everyone’s top 10 list. Let’s face it: food is a huge part of any travel experience, but a road trip down historic Route 66 is nothing if not a culinary delight. Like some of the icons, restaurants like Lou Mitchell’s, The Big Texan, and Cattlemen’s have solidified their spots on travelers’ itineraries, but one venue that has been around for a long, long time and deserves a visit, too, is just down in Romeoville — 40 minutes south of Chicago and the start of the Mother Road — and, if you hanker for the taste of a long family owned business, White Fence Farms is your newest treat.
Horses, Hamburgers, and Shuffleboard
Francis Stuyvesant Peabody was a prominent American industrialist, particularly known for his influence in the coal industry during the late 19th and early 20th centuries. In 1890, he incorporated the Peabody Coal Company — today known as Peabody Energy — in Illinois, and in 1895, coal mining started in Williamson County, Illinois. Under his leadership, the company expanded significantly, becoming one of the largest and most influential coal companies in the United States. Francis was also a significant figure in agriculture, acquiring several acres and creating large Peabody farms. He established the Mayslake Peabody Estate and commissioned the construction of what is today known as Mayslake Hall, a Tudor Revival-style mansion that is listed on the National Register of Historic Places. Sadly, in 1922, a year after the completion of Mayslake Hall, at the age of 63, Francis died of a heart attack while on a fox hunt on his property. In 1924, the estate was sold to the Franciscan Order. Heir to Peabody’s coal fortune was his son Stuyvesant “Jack” Peabody, who was now president of the company. Jack and his wife, Anita, were well-known Chicago area socialites. Jack was an avid horseman, and with wealth came the ability to explore that passion. So, he established stables — where he bred, boarded, and trained thoroughbred racehorses — and a racetrack on his 450-acre farm in Romeoville, Illinois. While the farm originally served as a weekend retreat for the family, who enjoyed the picturesque setting and the opportunity to escape the hustle and bustle of city life, it also became a place where Peabody entertained various guests. Being in the countryside, there was not much in the way of dining for his moneyed guests and racetrack visitors, so Jack decided to do something about it. On a 12-acre property across from his farm, he opened a restaurant in a repurposed barn, serving mostly hamburgers on the inside and shuffleboard on the outside. And just like that, White Fence Farm Restaurant — christened after the white wooden railings around his property — was born. It quickly became a popular venue with a growing clientele.
Coincidentally, along one of the property boundaries was Joliet Road that would, in 1926, become Route 66, bringing the motoring public with it. And, at that point, it was off to the races.
Jack died in 1946, just two months shy of his 58th birthday. Jack’s son, Stuyvesant Jr., ended up selling White Fence Farm, which changed hands several times over the ensuing years until 1954.
New Owners, New Vision
Robert Hastert Sr. and his wife, Doris, started a wholesale chicken plant — Aurora Poultry Market — in Aurora, Illinois, in the 1930s, supplying chicken to the surrounding community and even to the World War II effort. After the war, their poultry business evolved into a restaurant called Harmony House that served a uniquely prepared chicken meal. With four years of growing success, the Hasterts were looking to expand when a 12-acre plot with, at this point, a rundown restaurant with shuffleboard and some vintage cars displayed out front, came up for sale. This was in the spring of 1954.
There are conflicting stories of how the sale of the property was settled. Some say a card game, some say a coin flip, and even Laura Hastert — current owner and granddaughter to Robert Sr. and Doris — knows all the stories but cannot say for sure what is true. However, a handshake and deed transfer was definitely handled, and Robert Sr. and Doris purchased the 12-acres of land that had an eatery and plenty of room to grow. And grow, they did.
Early Days on the Farm
Robert Sr. and Doris brought the best of Harmony House to White Fence Farm and got to work putting their mark on their new 120-seat restaurant; work began on renovations and expansion. Robert Sr. had a philosophy about the new restaurant: people would happily drive out to the thencountryside to have a great meal with great service, and no one should have to wait for a seat. This philosophy was the basis for constantly adding dining space. And being located on Route 66 was fuel on the popularity fire. Remember, at the time, Route 66 was the busiest highway in the area. I-35 was not built yet; I-55 was not there. If you wanted to travel, you drove Route 66.
“They started revamping the property, upgrading it until the late 1970s, [and] adding on rooms. It was originally two rooms and now we have 12 dining rooms, and we’re on the same 12 acres that we started with. We also still have the same 567 parking spaces. The only reason my grandpa and dad quit adding on was because we ran out of parking spaces,” said Laura. Today, White Fence Farms seats 1,100. “My grandparents built their home on the property so that they could oversee their employees coming and going from work. My grandfather could always be seen in the restaurant walking around with his cigarette asking each guest how their meal is. He was always in a suit, even on his day off. He was all business but, at the same time, made each person feel special.”
An Icon is Made
As with many businesses on Route 66, White Fence Farm was a family affair. After graduating in the 1960s from
Bradley University and serving in the navy, Robert “Bob” Jr., one of Hasterts’ two sons, returned home and, along with his wife Jeanne, joined the family business. Bob Jr. took over as general manager and, together with his father, zeroed in on improving the efficiency of the cooking process. Bob Jr. recognized the need for innovation to meet the demands of a growing customer base, and so commissioned industrialsized pressure cookers to be made so that they could cook enough chickens without compromising on quality. The restaurant offered a unique dining experience that attracted visitors from near and far, but it was the recipe for the “World’s Greatest Chicken” that kept people coming. They also incorporated the use of walk-in fridges as a cooling and holding space for the chicken, which was delivered fresh daily. While the fried chicken and the real corn fritters were the cornerstones of their success, they also added fish, shrimp, and steaks to their simple, traditional menu.
Bob Jr. became the real force behind the business, transforming the rural roadside restaurant into the landmark family-style restaurant we know today. He oversaw several key improvements to the restaurant’s facilities and operations, including modernizing the kitchen, expanding dining areas, and enhancing the overall guest experience.
White Fence Farm became a gathering place where teenagers got their first jobs, where families celebrated milestones, and where the community came together, solidifying its place as a central part of Romeoville’s social and cultural fabric.
Generational Legacy
After pursuing a hotel management degree at the University of Denver, and working for several large corporations, Laura returned back home in the late ‘90s to help her father run the business. Her mother, Jeanne, who had worked alongside her father, had passed away in 1994 and Robert Sr., her grandfather and patriarch of the family, had succumbed to cancer a couple of years later in 1998, aged 83. Laura was no stranger to the business, having been involved in one way or another since her youth, so she fit right back in. “My first job was at age 12: pulling a trashcan on wheels around the large parking lot on Mondays to pick up trash [that] customers left in the lot from the busy Sunday before. Then I worked as a hostess, cashier, and server. I always knew that I would work in my family business. I like the business part of the restaurant more than the culinary, which is good because our menu is quite simple: not your typical restaurant with a chef preparing daily specials. I came back here to help my grandma and dad as they were getting older. This is not for anyone who doesn’t want to be here. You have to want to be here, not because you’re expected to.”
Sadly, her father, Bob Jr., passed away in 2010, aged 73, and the mantle of preserving White Fence Farm’s legacy was passed firmly onto Laura.
Under her stewardship, the restaurant has continued to flourish. Robert Hastert Sr. developed a business culture with a don’t-fix-what-ain’t-broke attitude that his son and granddaughter have carried on. The famous fried chicken
Current owner, Laura Hastert. Photograph by Jim Lüning
recipe has remained unchanged since the restaurant’s inception, and the family-centered approach endures, creating a warm, welcoming environment that makes both employees and guests feel like part of the White Fence Farm family. Many of the employees have been there for most of their lifetime with multiple generations of a family working for White Fence Farm.
“Judy Rice, she’s our front of the house manager. She’s been here 42 years. Judy’s whole family works here: their kids and the grandkids. Our day receiving manager, Chuck Kern, and his wife and kids work here — and grandkids on the holidays when we need them. He’s been here maybe 47 years. Thank God for these families; they get us through sometimes,” said Laura. “They all know their jobs. In fact, I was amazed that when my grandpa died, who was the head of the ship — I mean, everyone was sad — but they just showed up and kept doing their thing. No one looked around and said, ‘Oh, what’s going to happen to the company?’ Everyone just came to work. When my grandma died in 2006, same thing, when my dad died, the third owner, in 2010, sad and all, but no one looked around saying, ‘Are we still going to have a job? Are they going to sell or what’s going to go on?’ They all just showed up and did their job.”
A Showcase and a Farm
In the early days of the Hasterts owning White Fence Farm, it seemed natural to incorporate some animal attractions at the venue. After all, it did have “farm” in its name. It makes one more reason to come out to get a great meal. But the wider environment was to change with the years. “At first there were some goats, llamas, and chickens in an area that kids could go up and pet them. Kids got to feed the animals and get all excited about dinner,” said Laura. “You buy a cup of feed for the animals, then come inside and feed yourself, just like on a working farm. If my grandpa would have known when he purchased the land in 1954 that all of the cornfields around us would one day be warehouses, he would have bought all 450 acres. He bought the 12 acres we are still on, thinking that this would be a destination drive
down Route 66 to an attractive place to eat good food with good service. But, like everywhere and, in hindsight, who knew?”
In 2015, Laura updated the animal shelters by adding a large red barn and two big pastures to house a number of Norwegian Dwarf mini goats and alpacas. Here you can pet and feed the animals, but only with approved feed purchased from White Fence Farm, of course. Added to the animal family are two giant cow cut-outs. A 20-foot momma cow and a 10-foot-high baby cow. This has turned into a great photo op for anyone traveling through. You have the cows, the barn, and the fence all in the background. Inside, the 12 dining rooms are ripe with collectables on display. From the 68 grandfather clocks, a collection of antique cars, and a Route 66 room with memorabilia, the large restaurant is a time capsule of a simpler time. But when the 2020 pandemic hit, they, like all restaurants, had to adjust.
“Since reopening in 2021, we don’t use all the tables and rooms. Folks still like to be spaced out more than before. I think folks are returning to going out more, but the way the world has changed with such an increase in wages and prices, I feel like it will be a long time till we get our business back to any type of normal,” said Laura. “The new normal is so expensive for us and for folks to go out to eat. It’s hard to keep such a large place operating. We have kept our prices as low as possible, while still being able to open the doors. We still get all our food in fresh and prep it the way we did 70 years ago, which entails a lot of labor. Folks still get the best, freshly made product around here at a lower price than anywhere else.”
Today, the farm’s rustic charm, complete with white picket fences, barns, sprawling lawns, and family-friendly activities, continue to make it a favorite destination for those seeking a taste of traditional, American comfort food in a pretty, relaxing setting. And, just as Hastert Sr. predicted, “you serve good food, provide good service, and people will come.” And, at White Fence Farm, they keep on coming.
“Folks still drive from surrounding states to celebrate their family events here. We still get so many baby boomers; their kids now come, remembering when their grandparents would meet and bring them here. We get a lot of out-of-country visitors doing Route 66, too. But we used to have busloads of folks arriving,” noted Laura. “Years ago, I-55 had many cornfields. My grandpa spoke to the farmers and got permission to park semi-trucks in their fields up and down I-55 that had White Fence Farm on them. [And] that told travelers how far they had to go to get to our place.”
While the world outside has changed dramatically since its founding, the farm has retained its old-fashioned charm and commitment to providing a memorable dining experience. Its story is one of tradition, and a timeless appeal that continues to resonate with each new generation. Theirs is a Mother Road tale. It is a true American story.
A tribute to farm life. Photograph by David J. Schwartz - Pics On Route 66
FOR THE LOVE OF ART
By Aaron Garza
Aand the Mother Road are intrinsically linked.
From curious sculptures like the enormous Muffler Men, to exquisite murals in nearly every Route 66 town, to eccentric public art installations such as Totem Pole Park in Foyil, OK, and Red Oak II in Carthage, MO, creativity thrives both along America’s Main Street and in tucked-away corners just beyond the blacktop, just out of plain view. But museums are also in plenty; places that offer an array of both classical and contemporary art from both the U.S. and abroad. One museum found right in Tulsa, the Oil Capital of the World, has something a little extra special to offer visitors. Meet the Philbrook Museum of Art.
While the Philbrook did not open their doors until 1939, the story of the Philbrook finds its roots much earlier in the youth and exploits of the museum’s namesake and benefactor, Waite Phillips. Already a famous oilman who took the experience that he gained from working alongside his brothers in their oil business — the famed Phillips 66 brand — Waite started his own company in 1914, the Waite Phillips Company. Eager to set his mark on the industry, he focused his business on offering an all-inclusive and full coverage approach that handled everything from the drilling and refinement of oil to its shipping and distribution. However, once up and running strong, Waite decided on yet another change when, in the mid-20s, he sold his company for a tidy fortune that would help kick off a long streak and legacy of philanthropy.
“It’s always an easy mnemonic to remember,” said Susan Green, Marcia Manhart Endowed Associate Curator at the Philbrook. “He had about $25,000 in his early startup costs, and in 1925, he sold his company for 25 million. That’s exponential growth, and you can imagine what that would be like in today’s money. With that money, he and his wife did so much good for the community. While he absolutely took care of his family, they both very much believed in giving back.”
Fortune in hand, the Phillips family began to pour their money into the city of Tulsa and beyond. Buildings and organizations appeared with the Phillips’ name attached. The Philcade and Philtower in downtown Tulsa, which became home to a variety of businesses over the years; the Philmont, a ranch in New Mexico that they would eventually gift to the Boy Scouts of America — a location that now serves as their largest campground in the nation — and, of course, the Philbrook: an Italianate, Beaux-Art, and Art Deco-style villa built in 1927 at 2727 S Rockford Road, the very place where it still stands to this day. Built right on Crow Creek — the eponymous “brook” — Villa Philbrook was originally meant to be a home for himself and his family, but Waite soon found that there was a greater purpose that his new home could serve the community.
“There was a grassroots group of people who realized that Tulsa had a library, had a wonderful music symphony
opera, but didn’t have an art museum in the community, so they lobbied the Tulsa Art Association for an art museum.
The Phillips recognized that while they had a decorative arts collection and some Southwest paintings, they didn’t have an extensive collection like other collectors, but they had a house,” continued Green. “The Phillips had all the wealth they needed. They didn’t need to sell the house for the proceeds, so they were able to give it away when they saw that there was a need for an art museum.” Not ones to leave the job half done though, the family went above and beyond as they often did in their business efforts. “Not only did the Phillips give their house and their gardens away, but they also endowed the museum. And then they stepped away,” said Green. And the Philbrook is not the only example of the Phillips’ generosity, either.
“They built two hospitals, including in the area where Waite’s twin brother passed away… they gave to the University of Southern California. They gave to many places as anonymous donors. They absolutely believed in the billionaire’s pledge, where they gave away most of their wealth, and in many of these situations, they didn’t want their name tied to it. They had places named after them — Philbrook, Philcade, Philmont — but they didn’t want their portrait, they didn’t want a sculpture to themselves, they didn’t want it to be about them.”
Gifted to the city of Tulsa in 1938, a quick remodel of the building allowed the Philbrook to throw open their doors to the public for the first time on October 25, 1939, marking the beginning of their long legacy as one of the Tulsa art community’s greatest allies. Over the course of those 80 years, the Philbrook has expanded the humble collection that the Phillips started them off with, gathering the works of local Tulsa contemporaries and artists from around the world alike. From their Native American collection featuring the works of Woody Crumbo and George Morrison, to a portion of the famous American and European artworks found in the Kress Collection, to the Philbrook’s mascot Great Danes by the renowned American sculptor Anna Hyatt Huntington — the very first pieces of art that the Philbrook acquired beyond their original collection, which stand proudly within the halls of the Philbrook, noses rubbed golden by the loving affection of the museum’s many visitors, despite the museum’s requests to refrain from touching the artwork — an expansive and ever expanding collection of art, both modern and contemporary, graces the galleries of the Philbrook all for your viewing pleasure.
So, the next time you find yourself in Tulsa, take a moment to step off the Mother Road and take in the beautiful sights at the Philbrook Museum of Art. Tulsa has always been a Route 66 leader, and when pursuing a more artistic experience while on the road, few finer stops represent the wonders that the visionaries of America’s Main Street had in mind when the adventure all started in 1926.
WINSLOW’S ROUTE 66 PARK
Strolling down the quaint streets of Winslow, Arizona, a town immortalized by the rhythm of a song and nestled along historic Route 66, travelers behold attractions representing the town’s rich cultural history. From the famous 1930s Spanish Colonial-Revival styled La Posada Hotel, the Standin’ on the Corner Park, to the far older 1917 Lorenzo Hubbell’s Navajo trading post converted into Winslow’s Visitor Center, these beloved sites stand as testament to the community’s pride in preserving their town’s legacy. But there is another attraction that emerges as a surprise. Spanning six blocks and representing a space where the past and the present converged in harmony, is the sprawling, decorous First Street Pathway Park.
In the late 1800s, the country was in full development mode and railroads were very much the leaders. The Atlantic and Pacific Railroad was busy focusing itself as it laid its tracks across the rugged terrain of Arizona, when it established a small station in 1880 named Winslow. The emergent town’s fate, of course, became intertwined with the railroad, bringing progress and commerce to this oncesleepy corner of the Arizona Territory. Winslow’s story again gained momentum when Route 66 was mapped out in 1926. The town found itself at the crossroads of this fledgling route, quickly becoming a favored stop for travelers seeking adventure along the Main Street of America. Winslow’s downtown flourished with motels, diners, and gas stations, each catering to the stream of road-weary wanderers. However, following on the heels of the decline of the railroad in the 1950s, everything changed with the coming of the interstate. Winslow, like many small towns along Route 66, experienced the ebb and flow of the changing travel patterns as the Interstate rerouted traffic from downtown.
“When they built I-40, nobody was prepared for the impact that the interstate was going to have,” recounted Bill Hall, chief executive officer of Winslow’s Chamber of Commerce & Visitor Center. “Traffic that used to travel through our downtown — it stopped. And one day, it was gone. And, for a couple of decades, not much was going on, and Winslow was bleeding.”
Without revenue streaming from tourists’ pockets, the historic downtown, once a bustling center of commerce and
culture, deteriorated. And with the passage of time, the town slowly began to fade into obscurity. Thankfully, a group of local visionaries saw potential in the forgotten corners of their town. From 2004 to 2015, the community devoted themselves to a $10 million revitalization project. “We grabbed our bootstraps and created this Renaissance Project. We ended up getting funds, and not just from the state. The First Street Pathway was the first project that we did for the Renaissance.”
With most of the funding stemming from a turnback agreement with the Arizona Department of Transportation, the First Street Pathway Park — part of a series of revitalization projects — was where Winslow displayed its cultural history on a pedestal, with a looping two-mile-long footpath winding through eye-catching attractions, greenery, and artistic flair, for everyone to see and experience for themselves.
“When putting [together] the elements in the First Street Pathway, right along the railroad tracks, we ended up putting up a fence along the pathway. It was a spot that had never been developed. One side [of the road] had homes and businesses, and the other side was just dirt: a wide area before there was a railroad track. So, we just thought this would be a good spot for visitors to walk,” explained Hall.
Not only has the park — which is tended by a professional park and recreation group paid for by the city — become a focal point for gatherings, exercise and relaxation, it also is a nod to Winslow’s past, serving as a vibrant outdoor museum.
“Mostly, it ends up being a surprise to visitors. [For] anybody who lives on Route 66 or who comes through Winslow, it’s part of their experience that they are looking for. They are looking for anything nostalgic or any kind of reference to Route 66.”
From a full-size steel windmill decorated with the wooden brands from neighboring ranches; an old VW Beetle and Ford Fairlane — “art cars” — painted to represent the iconic Route 66; signs inspired by the creative rhymes of the route’s classic Burma-Shave advertisements; antique train cars highlighting the town’s earliest roots; to a 36-foot-tall totem built by Peter Wolf Toth to honor Winslow’s border with the Navajo Nation, the First Street Pathway Park encapsulates bridging the past with the present. A tribute to community spirit and the rejuvenation of a town’s historic core.
On Route 66.
Photograph by David J. Schwartz –Pics
Get your boutique route 66 kicks
Explore the Grand Canyon from our new hotel and dine at Miss Kitty’s, a Southwestern steakhouse with wholesome plates, local brews and fancy drinks.
TRAILBORN.COM
TIMELESS TASTES
By JoAnn Chang
Photograph by David J. Schwartz - Pics On Route 66
Family restaurants are the heartbeats of their communities. They are a place to gather, celebrate wins, and lament losses. Where the locals go, and the servers greet them by name and know their usual order. Where visitors are welcomed like old friends. Small towns across America are full of them and Red Cedar Inn, in Pacific, Missouri, is a shining example. For over 83 years, this Route 66 treasure remained in the same family, preserving its legacy as one of the most intact full-service restaurants on the Mother Road.
The 1934 rerouting of Route 66 brought new opportunities to the people of Pacific, Missouri, during the challenging days of the Great Depression. For brothers James and Bill Smith, it was the perfect moment to go legit after their Prohibition-era bootlegging days and embrace a new venture. With their family farm in Villa Ridge supplying a wealth of free timber, they loaded up their Ford Model “AA” one-ton truck and hauled the logs to a hilltop site along the “new Route 66,” ready to build something that would stand the test of time.
Passing travelers were drawn to the unique appeal of the log construction. The square cut, V notched red cedar logs and signature wide white chinking attracted the eye and the rustic look carried through to the interior with peeled cedar posts, exposed log walls, and pine wood paneling. Christened as Smith Brothers Red Cedar Tavern, it wasn’t long before the spot became known for their fried chicken, but it offered other classics like steaks, frog legs, and fish too. A year later, with Red Cedar doing well, the brothers handed the reins over to the next generation. James Smith II took over management at the age of 24, with big plans of his own to see Red Cedar grow. One of his first hires was a young waitress by the name of Katherine Brinkman. Five years later, she became Mrs. James Smith II and joined her husband in running the restaurant.
“Mom didn’t like the name Tavern in it. A bunch of their friends were sitting there one night, and everybody was throwing out names, and that’s where the name Red Cedar Inn came from,” said Ginger Gallagher, daughter of James II and Katherine, and the third generation to own and manage the venue.
In 1944, the couple [James and Katherine] officially bought Red Cedar Inn and continued to look for ways to keep the business thriving. They added an outdoor barbecue pit and Sunday picnic lunches at the Inn became very popular in Pacific. “There was a little building next door that dad called the soda stand,” continued Gallagher. “Used to be that you couldn’t sell 5% beer on Sunday, so they sold three-two-beer (3.2% alcohol). Mom said it wasn’t a whole lot different. Did the same thing to you that 5% did. So, people would buy food in here, and then there were picnic tables out on the hill, and they go out there, get either a soda or beer, and go out on the hill and sit down.”
Fifteen years later, in 1959, James and Katherine moved onto the property with Ginger and her brother, James III. In the 60s, I-44 opened, and traffic along Route 66 declined; this had a big impact on business in the little town. The
family continued to manage the property until James II retired in 1972. They kept ownership, but leased it to other entrepreneurs, some more successful than others.
When James II passed away in 1987, Katherine took over management again, this time with the help of her children.
“We had to watch her make the chicken and dumplings and write down everything as she was doing it. One recipe I can remember said one large spoonful of sugar. It was a great big restaurant spoon. That would have been totally off if we hadn’t known exactly what she was talking about. She said we didn’t know we’d need these recipes later,” said Gallagher.
One of the first hires that Ginger — now a widowed mother — and James III made, was Wes Karna, a friend of James III. They needed a great General Manager. In a heartwarming twist of fate, Ginger, and Wes, after 17 years of working side by side, followed in the footsteps of her parents’ love story and married. Among their dedicated team was Kathy Bell, a hardworking employee with a genuine desire to master every role at the Inn. She affectionately called Ginger and Wes “Mom and Dad” and eventually celebrated her own wedding at the Inn — a testament to the deep connections fostered within its walls.
By 2005, Ginger and Wes had earned a well-deserved retirement, and with the next generation choosing a different path, the Inn finally closed its doors bringing their family’s incredible journey at Red Cedar to a close. The beloved building transitioned into office space. However, the city saw Red Cedar Inn as an important piece of its history worth preserving for future generations. “Instead of just having it become a used car lot, it could be something beneficial to our city, to historic Route 66, and help bring people back into town,” said Kelly O’Malley, Director of Tourism for the City of Pacific. The city purchased it in 2017 and began the painstaking process of renovating and restoring the property. The local materials chosen by the Smith brothers have stood the test of time, and the building remains almost unchanged from the day it first opened.
“We’ve won two preservation awards, and our architects won an architectural award for it.”
Red Cedar Inn Museum and Visitor Center opened its doors on August 26th , 2023. It offers a rest stop for travelers along the Mother Road, a hands-on museum for children, as well as museum displays showcasing the history of not just Red Cedar Inn, but the town of Pacific, and iconic Route 66. “Having Ginger here is something that not every museum is going to have, because we can get the history right now. We’ve got first-hand knowledge of it,” noted O’Malley.
It’s clear that the Smith family created more than just a restaurant in 1934, they created a place that’s brought people together for nearly 85 years. As the town of Pacific and Route 66 through Missouri continue to welcome local and international visitors, it is humble spots like Red Cedar Inn that will daily remind them of the important role that mom-and-pop places played in making America the nation that it is.
RIO PUERCO BRIDGE
About 20 miles west of downtown Albuquerque, on a former alignment of Route 66 paralleling I-40, stands a steel bridge. This is the Rio Puerco Bridge, a historic structure that weaves a tale of engineering ingenuity, regional connectivity, and the resilience of infrastructure against the backdrop of the American Southwest.
In the early 20th Century, the vast and arid landscapes of New Mexico posed both a challenge and an opportunity for those seeking to forge connections across the region. However, the Rio Puerco presented an extra formidable barrier to travel. With the absence of a reliable bridge for a shortcut through the Rio Puerco Valley, travelers had to head south from Albuquerque to Los Lunas and then onto Gallup. And whenever the Rio Puerco flooded due to soil erosion along the riverbank, the old bridges — most composed of wood or concrete — were swept under the rushing currents. “At the time, perhaps the technology or maybe the money to make a fairly good-sized bridge was not available,” said Jon Ghahate, a Southwest cultural educator for the Crow Canyon Archaeological Center. “The Rio Puerco arroyo is just a riverbed with no water in it: it only runs when it rains. It’s not very big, but when you think about the 1800s — if it’s not “needed,” no one’s going to invest money in it.”
and a popular design between the late 1920s and 1930s, that could withstand the occasional torrents that transformed the Rio Puerco from a dry riverbed to a rushing force of nature. “It spans the river and that’s to make sure to get good hydraulic clearance with the bridge,” said Vincent Dorzweiler, a bridge engineer serving with the New Mexico Department of Transportation Bridge Bureau. “Because minimizing substructure elements in the pier minimizes ways for debris to get caught up to cause backups in water. It also keeps your substructure elements out of the main flow. So heavy flow won’t remove the soil in front of them, which we scour.”
Completed within the year, the 250-foot-long, lattice of riveted steel — one of the longest single-span bridges in New Mexico — brought a stream of opportunities. “The boarding schools, commerce, as well as economic opportunities [across the bridge] were now expanding the opportunity for native communities to travel much further than their ancestors did,” noted Ghahate. Then in 1937, U.S. 66 was rerouted across the bridge, providing travelers with a muchawaited westward route through the Laguna Pueblo. To accommodate the increase in traffic, the bridge was remodeled in 1957, including lighter struts and metallic guard rails for securing the truss members.
But the local communities dreamt of a bridge that would span the wide expanse and efficiently and safely unite the people on either side. Fortunately, thanks to President Franklin D. Roosevelt’s New Deal pushing for the improvement of highways, New Mexico received the support it required. With emergency federal aid funds allocated toward roadway renewal projects throughout the country, the State Highway Department — known today as the Department of Transportation — got ready to work. A plan for a bridge that would not only conquer the Rio Puerco, but also stand as a testament to human endeavor against the backdrop of the desert, was put into place. And so, in 1933, working alongside the Kansas City Structural Steel Company, lifelong Albuquerque resident Frank D. Shufflebarger led the charge, implementing the bridge’s Parker thru truss design, an engineering marvel of the time
However, when I-40 was completed in the area in the 1960s, the bridge and the Route 66 alignment became part of the frontage road. And by the late 1990s, the bridge was deemed unsafe for vehicles. “A lot of times, in order to decrease our inventory, once a bridge has served its service life, 99 times out of 100, it is demoed or destroyed,” explained Dorzweiler. However, public outcry — and, perhaps, the bridge’s entry into the National Register of Historic Places in 1997 — convinced the department to preserve the structure. In 1999, a plaque honoring the bridge’s history was erected.
Today, the Rio Puerco Bridge, though weathered and worn, retains its historic charm and stands as a silent witness to the changing tides of time. While it no longer carries vehicular traffic, it is open for people to walk across, and soak in the stories of the families who crossed its span in jalopies, of the cattle drives that echoed with the clatter of hooves, and of the pioneers who dreamed of connectivity in the heart of the desert.
Photograph by David J. Schwartz –Pics
On Route 66.
Saint Francis Cathedral
Santa Fe’s architecture is defined as much as it is dominated by the Pueblo style. Earthcolored adobe, raised into low buildings with flat-topped roofs, that remind us of the long standing Native American presence in the area, that far predates any European settlement. However, one building stands out notably from the city’s skyline: a Romanesque structure of limestone with beautiful, towering stained-glass windows. The
Cathedral Basilica of St. Francis of Assisi, located right in the heart of downtown Santa Fe since 1886. The story of this church, though, extends far back beyond its completion in the late-19 th Century, starting with the first arrival of the Spaniards into the then Mexican territory of Nueve Mexico, securing what would become Santa Fe as their territorial capitol.
“The first church that was built here in 1610 was built out of wood and was burned to the ground in 1680 in the Pueblo Indian uprising,” said Stanley Robb, a docent at the Cathedral Basilica. “The Spanish retreated all the way down to El Paso, overwhelmed by the Pueblo assault. They came back 12 years later and rebuilt the area eventually with a very large adobe church in the Pueblo-style.”
This new church, La Parroquia, was not built right away, though. Construction ran from 1714 to 1717, after which the church stood for over a century unbothered, barely affected by the change in hands between the Mexican and U.S. governments after the New Mexican territory was ceded in the aftermath of the Mexican-American War in 1846. It wasn’t until a new archbishop, Jean Baptiste Lamy, was brought down to lead a new archdiocese in the Nueve Mexico territory that La Parroquia was under threat of being forever changed.
Jean-Baptiste Lamy, a French missionary who crossed to North America in 1839, rose through the ranks while serving a number of Ohio and Kentucky missions, and was consecrated as a bishop in 1850. He then moved down to Santa Fe to become the new bishop of the Catholic Church in New Mexico, later taking office as the first Archbishop of the Santa Fe Archdiocese in 1853. Rocky years as
the region’s new religious leader did not dissuade Lamy from continuing to whip the area into what he believed to be proper shape for a Catholic community. But one issue, perhaps more than any other, irked him, one that he absolutely needed to resolve.
“Being a Frenchman, he just did not like the adobe architecture or the Pueblo style. He decided to go forward with building the Romanesque-style church in 1869,” continued Robb.
“It took 17 years to complete because they kept running out of money. It was a very poor area and raising the money to do all of this took a very long time.”
Lamy raised funds, hired workers, and began work on the new church, one that would admittedly stand out noticeably from the surrounding Santa Fe architecture.
Using grey limestone from a quarry roughly 18 miles away, the new church was built up around the former church that Lamy had detested so much, swallowing and surrounding the old adobe with the new stone, literally creating a church within a church. The long years of construction finally completed in 1886, at which point it became impractical to run a church within a church. La Parroquia, unfortunately, had to go.
“When they completed the building of the cathedral, the archbishop blessed 30 workers, they came inside and disassembled the adobe church, took it out front, and landscaped the area right in front of the church,” said Robb. “So, now, when you walk across the plaza area to get into the Basilica’s front door, you’re actually walking across the remains of the old adobe church.”
Finished in 1886, consecrated in 1894 — after the church was finally paid off — and a part of Santa Fe ever since, the fortress-like appearance of the Basilica may make it look like an outlier within the traditional architectural styles of The City Different, but closer inspection reveals that this Romanesque building still very much carries the spirit of New Mexico. In its effort to stand out, the church has managed to solidify itself into being just as much a Santa Fe icon as its traditional architectural icons, and by extent, a Route 66 landmark.
David J. Schwartz
is plenty for everyone to see and do in Grants, NM. Cruise, Camp, Hike, Sightsee, Stargaze, Eat, Enjoy, Shop and Stay a while. Experiences here are authentic, from our diverse cultures and distinctive landscapes found nowhere else, to the people who are warmhearted and sincere.
HALFWAY THERE
By
Sarah L. Boyd
Photograph by Efren Lopez/Route66Images
From the 1920s to 1940s, as families wheeled their brand-new automobiles down paved asphalt roads, highway lodgings became the prominent indulgence of the motoring American public. Focusing on affordability, cozy tourist cabins cropped up boasting luxurious modern amenities such as tiled, private bathrooms, and soft, carpeted flooring. As part of a cost-effective approach, cabins evolved into single-roomed mom-and-pop motels, charming family-run businesses that offered unique experiences outside of the typical hotel chain. In the tiny town of Adrian, Texas, stands an unassuming brown brick building that is holding on to the spirit and legacy of America’s roadside motels. A welcoming throwback to a simpler time. In 1967, on the cusp of the gradually receding motel boom that dominated the ‘50s and ‘60s, Kenneth “Kenny” and Marjorie “Midge” Callstrom, who had moved to Adrian from California, built and opened a motel, right along the geographical midpoint of historic Route 66. Detailed in early blueprints, the ambitious couple had planned to build two, two-story buildings, comprising 20 rooms each. However, realizing that they perhaps had more than enough on their plate handling not only one motel and also a truck stop restaurant located about seven miles east of Adrian in a now-ghost town called Landergin, they ultimately decided to keep it simple. Inspired by Interstate 40, which was then also being constructed in proximity, they christened their new motel, the Fabulous 40s Motel.
While Kenny managed the restaurant, Midge, focused on running the motel. It was an exciting time as the couple worked to build their motel into a special roadside stop for Mother Road travelers. And they provided a welcome respite for motorists for over three decades until things took a sad turn. In 2004, 83-year-old Kenny passed away and Midge closed the motel’s doors soon after. In 2012, at the age of 95, she too passed on after a battle with pneumonia. It seemed like the cherished motel would remain a forgotten relic along the quiet two-lane highway. Thankfully this was not the end of its story.
In June 2016, the languishing motel was introduced to fresh faces: Roy and Ramona Kiewert. Originally from Nacogdoches, Texas, Roy, a long-haul trucker, and Ramona, a substitute teacher — had long been involved with Route 66 since 2006, when they bought and began restoring the Bent Door Cafe in Adrian. So they were very familiar with the Fabulous 40s Motel which was less than a mile away. After their daughter’s graduation in 2014, they moved to Adrian and were on the hunt for land for an RV Park. Coincidently, Midge’s daughter-in-law, who was now in possession of the Fabulous 40 Motel, was also Ramona’s cousin and so when she was ready to let go of the property, it seemed only fitting that the motel’s legacy be handed down to the Kiewerts. This exciting arrangement guaranteed that the business stayed within the family.
“We’ve been seeing the motel since the early 2000s,” explained Ramona. “Midge lived here, and my husband had been helping her take care of it. She was getting older, and he would come do maintenance. We were just interested in keeping the motel up.”
Once the purchase transactions were complete, the Kiewerts rolled up their sleeves, and began the first of what would become a series of property renovations that included landscaping, fresh paint, and the addition of black metal benches displaying the Texas star symbol. But the bulk of the refreshing was in the theme-focused rooms. “We have several Route 66 rooms that we’re working on,” she continued. “I have an ocean-side room which already had a picture of the ocean and was kind of decorated. And I have a Billy the Kid room because Billy had a hideout on one of the ranches around here — I was told — just short of Adrian. I have postcards in there, of the hideout. So that’s kind of a western room.”
Besides the nod to the love of Route 66 nostalgia, with framed puzzles and classic memorabilia present throughout the establishment, there is another feature that adds to the motel’s character; a rust-brown 1942 International Harvester K-2 pickup truck that is quietly parked on a grassy clearing out front. On the truck’s bed are giant American flag -themed wooden “66”, standing upright. Beside the truck is the motel’s red metallic sign showcasing the motel’s name in white lettering and a vacancy sign beneath.
“A young couple out of town had the truck. It belonged to their grandfather and, basically, it really belongs to them, but they said that as long as we kept the motel, we could keep the truck. They had it over at their house, but didn’t really want it over there, so my husband asked them if we could have it. They liked the idea of their greatgrandfather’s truck being on the midpoint of Route 66 for everyone to see and enjoy.”
Occasionally, to the amusement of traveling guests, a human-like figure can be spotted sitting behind the wheel of the vehicle — a smiling, straw-stuffed prop lovingly named “Guy.” Used as a decoration during one Halloween night, Guy, often adorned with a cowboy hat, has since become a welcome addition to the mom-and-pop establishment.
But it’s not just the motel’s quirky charm or its halfwaybetween-Chicago and Santa Monica- location that continues to pull people in — it’s also the people behind it. The Kiewerts have become known for their hospitality and heartfelt warmth making every guest feel like part of the family.
“You can’t read my letters unless you’ve been here — people stick letters on my refrigerator like notes at home. But I try to treat them like family and friends. A lot of them tell me that it’s like they are at grandma’s house, or they feel like they’re home with family. I get a lot of return visitors traveling east to west. They say that it’s their halfway point to wherever it is they’re going. So, yeah, we try to treat everyone like they’re family; it doesn’t matter who they are.”
Discovering offbeat, unusual places to rest weary heads has always been a big part of the fun when traveling down Route 66. Today, in the heart of the vast Texan plains, where the horizon stretches endlessly under the big, open sky, you will find the Fabulous 40s Motel, a time capsule that is waiting to welcome you with open arms and retro charm.
