CHICAGO — There is no better way to honor the 50th anniversary of the Interstate Highway System than trying to drive around Chicago.
Time stands still!
My week long trip is over; I drove from Chicago to St. Paul to Rapid City, South Dakota and back home through South Dakota and Iowa. Most of my driving was along I-90, the longest interstate route in America (3,020 miles from Boston to Seattle.).
Nowhere did I encounter the traffic dilemmas that I did around Chicago. And I didn't even travel the Chicago area in peak times. Of course, this is not a news flash. And the biggest city in South Dakota [Sioux Falls] has about as many people as Naperville (140,000). But I've been driving around Chicago for 30 years and I've seen 30 years of roadwork. This will be going on the rest of my life. So I jotted a few tips down while stuck in traffic yesterday to help future generations:
1. It's wrong to pay $1.90 for tolls to sit in construction zones for future open road trolling. Tolls should be abolished during construction times. But that makes too much sense. So sell advertising on all the orange highway cones that I saw on this trip and drop the toll. The endless series of cones would resurrect the charms of Burma Shave. Don't laugh. Several years ago no one thought there would be advertising on El trains.
2. Toll booth operators are always so grumpy.
Let them decorate their own booths. How about a tiki toll booth? Or the old woman who lived in a shoe? A hockey penalty box! Last Friday morning I spent almost an hour trying to get through the tollbooth near Beloit. A Wisconsin deer lodge/supper club motif would have cheered me up.
3. Save money by using fake flagmen on worksites. This is not a joke.
When I visted Tokyo in 2000, I saw workzones with lifesize male mannequins dressed as flagmen, wearing yellow helmets and holding flags and flashlights. But in the states someone would steal them. Second option, then: let flagpeople wear whatever they want; bikinis, White Sox uniforms, Brooks Brothers suits, Santa Claus outfits in the winter. People will pay closer attention.
4. More advertising reveune to cut consumer costs: obtain sponsorship for the electric tollway signs that relay travel times: "The Sun-TImes brings you Tollway Time," "Do the Crime; Serve the Time/Joe's Bail Bonds." Also run sports scores and a news crawl for when traffic is really backed up.
I bet Prescott Bush and President Eisenhower never thought of this stuff when they helped give birth to the interstates. But then they never envisioned the convluted Illinois Tollway system.
Finally while tooling around Iowa's open roads I was listening to the music of my friend Pat McLaughlin. He's a sweet country soul singer originally from Waterloo, Iowa who now lives in Nashville. A superb music bet for the Fourth of July weekend is Pat's appearance Saturday night at the FitzGerald's American Music Festival in Berwyn.
Some friends in Nashville took me to see Pat nearly 15 years ago when he was pegged as Nashville's Van Morrison [a description that makes him uncomfortable]. A magnificent performer in his own right, Pat has also written hit songs for Alan Jackson, Tanya Tucker and Delbert McClinton. Rick Rubin hired him to play guitar on Neil Diamond's recent record and the last recordings from Johnny Cash. Pat is taking a break this weekend from his new role as a member of John Prine's band. This is a set not to be missed. Maybe I'll see you there and I'll give you a detour out of Chicago.
SIOUX CITY, Iowa — Is Celine Dion related to Michael Buble?
That's the kind of stuff I was thinking about on the 370th mile of the 376 trip from Custer State Park in South Dakota to Sioux City, which meant I should pull over and get some rest. I planned to hit Iowa much earlier, but fell behind doing some great interviews in South Dakota.
I also got out of my Pontiac to stretch my legs and have a beer at a country bar/museum/casino across the street from the Corn Palace in Mitchell, S.D. It was around 7:30 p.m. and two women next to me were eating gizzards and getting liquored up to prepare for Wednesday night Karaoke — that began at 10 p.m. This wasn't going to be pretty. I caught the Bulls draft choices on TV [I wanted Brandon Roy] and left town.
The deal was to catch a minor league baseball game in Sioux City. Over the weekend my new friends at Sioux Falls told me that Ed Nottle was the manager at Sioux City. Ed is a baseball gypsy. He has majored in minor league managing. He's like the Hank Snow song in that he's been everywhere. Ed provided me with one my all time favorite road stories, one that is worth repeating on this trip of middle America's small towns.
Several years ago I went to Duluth, Minn., to do a story on Bob Dylan's years there as well as a piece on the historic baseball stadium in town. Ed was the manager of the now-defunct Duluth Superior Dukes. I had read about Ed in the past. Ed is an excellent lounge singer and his passion for crooning in piano bars and hotel lounges often ruffled the feathers of stuffy major league executives. "We can't have our manager singing in a bar!," they would say at the same time their own players were popping greenies and taking steroids.
I knew I would like "Singin' Ed Nottle," as he is called. We talked at great length before the game. I seem to recall he spent off-seasons in Evansville, Ind. He talked about retiring because his wife had cancer. Then he told me he was going to sing before that evening's game. A Duluth season ticket holder of some 40 years had just lost her husband. Ed was going to dedicate a song to her.
Around game time the clouds turned snowglobe blue, so classic of Northern Minnesota in mid-June. The elderly woman sat in her box seat wearing a Dukes warm up jacket. The seat next to her was empty. Ed walked to the pitcher's mound and his entire team followed. The players and coaches took off their caps. They all faced the long-time fan. Ed then delivered an immaculate version of "Somewhere Over the Rainbow." It was a touching moment
The game began and the Dukes got off to a quick lead [I have my scorecard somewhere at home, I'm sure]. But the deep blue sky began to darken. It soon began to rain. The downfall became heavier and the game was delayed. I waited for about 45 minutes, but I had to drive back to Chicago, just as I have to do later today.
I pulled out of the parking lot feeling good about Ed and the extra effort he made for the fan. I was no more than 10 miles away from the stadium when I looked back at the old rickety ballpark.
A rainbow was shining over left field.
Now I'm not real religious or mystical. But I do believe in the biggest hearts of small towns. Tonight I wanted to see Ed Nottle and thank him for that. I missed Ed, but I know he's somewhere around here singing to someone.
RAPID CITY, S.D. — Surprises are the best part of any journey.
The drive from Mount Rushmore to Custer State Park should typically take 15, 20 minutes, or so I was told. It took me two hours to get to my little cabin at Legion Lake in Custer State Park.
Some kid at the Mount Rushmore concession stand gave me bum directions — or maybe I wasn't paying attention.
So I wound up driving through dark, one-way tunnels and sharp switchbacks along Iron Mountain Road southwest to Custer. I wanted to stop at the small town of Keystone to stock up on rations for my cabin. I'm not an outdoors person, so I thought it wise to get insect repellent, food, aspirin, alcohol, Mountain Dew, chocolate chip cookies, orange juice, vitamins and a copy of Sports Weekly for my eight hour stay in the cabin.
I missed Keystone.
By the time I emerged from Iron Mountain Road at Spokane Creek, it was 7:30 p.m. — feeding time for the buffalo in the state park. Holy moly.
Now, I've been up close to buffalo in a zoo and once before on the road outside of Jackson Hole, Wyo. But I have never seen so many buffalo life like I did in South Dakota. Traffic was stopped twice for herds of 60, 70 buffalo crossing the street. I was listening to the Cubs game on my satellite radio. One huge bull with big horns came right up to the window of my car. I could smell him and he was doing a deep grunt. I was a bit freaked out. Maybe he didn't like the sound of Ron Santo. So I gently rolled up my window and the bull walked around my car like a cop on the highway. I bet that kid at Mount Rushmore did all this on purpose just to mess with me — since I was the only person visiting Mount Rushmore alone.
I finally got to my cabin around 8:30 p.m. I was able to snag a nice trout dinner at the Lake Legion Lodge while I attempted to convince my Indonesian waitress that my cabin was surrounded by grizzly bears. I retreated to my retreat with a copy of my South Dakota WPA guide, trying to get some kind of 1940s handle on what I had been through (thanks Bill Lindemann!, I should have been alive back then). I also heard the Cubs lost — again.
Maybe I should trade in my lifelong love of the Cubs for camping. There's campgrounds in Wisconsin, right?
All the campers I saw this morning were so happy. They smiled and waved at me as I tried to find my way out of the dense forest. It was 7:30 a.m. People in Chicago aren't so happy at 7:30 a.m.
And camping is like being a Cubs fan in the same way you're sitting around waiting for something to happen. You sit, and sit, and sit. Camping is like being a Cubs fan in the way I was swatting at moths trying to find the light in my cabin. Those moths never found the light.
I gotta hit the road. I'm writing this from the restaurant at the Alex Johnson hotel in downtown Rapid City and people are starting to talk about whiskey and they're migrating to the video poker machines. I'm heading home and this should be a fun day, for this is the first day without an agenda, appointments, interviews etc. I may make Sioux City, Iowa to see my friend Ed Nottle, who now manages a minor league baseball team there. Even if I don't make it, or if I drive by Sioux City, I'll share that story of Ed with you tomorrow.
Send money!!!
RAPID CITY, S.D. — According to Mari Sandoz's fine 1942 biography "Crazy Horse (The Strange Man of the Oglalas)," the military leader of the Oglala Sioux was considered unusual and a non-conformist.
Well, I'm in good company.
It has been a lifelong dream to visit the Crazy Horse monument, which I will do tomorrow.
Sandoz traveled the Badlands in the 1930s and lived among the Native Americans. She interviewed buffalo hunters and running partners of Crazy Horse like Red Feather and Short Bull. I can't wait until tomorrow and I know I have a few crazy tricks up my sleeve in terms of people to meet.
I have been blessed by the weather while driving across South Dakota. All day today the clouds were like cotton balls dancing across the blue sky. The clouds seem to be so close to the ground here. Driving out of Mitchell, S.D., was like driving into a picture postcard. This forceful spirit bodes well for the Crazy Horse visit, the culmination of a rewarding trip that has incorporated wonderful food, goodwill from South Dakotans and several surprises. For example, I was told to stop at Al's Oasis (Exit 260) near Chamberlain. I was all jacked up about the 5-cent coffee I saw advertised on roadside billboards. I'm here to report that coffee is not 5 cents if you carry out. It is 50 cents.
Radio wasn't quite as good today as it has been since I left Chicago on Friday morning [did I mention how horrible the tollbooth construction is just south of Beloit, Wis.? A 45-minute delay on a Friday morning. I've driven across America — Illinois has the worst tollway system in the United States.]
Even worse than the delay was catching Harry Chapin's: "Taxi — The Segue" on satellite radio. I never knew he did an afterwards to what was a stupid song to begin with. But while listening to Rob Dibble and Kevin Kennedy on my all-baseball station, I learned that major league baseball goes through 300,000 baseballs a season.
If I had a cell phone, I might have been talking to someone and I would have missed that.
I also pondered some "Rules of the Road Trip" and need help in assembling a list. Like, never buy a camera at a museum gift shop ... too expensive. Or don't reach over and turn down the radio when you're in the passenger seat and your cell phone rings [this is from my last big road trip to New Orleans.] Does the driver always get to pick the music?
Help me.
I'll be somewhere in a cabin tomorrow night looking for wireless access.
9:30 p.m. June 25, 2006
SIOUX FALLS, S.D. — I do the majority of my road trips alone, so a blog is someone for me to talk to while driving my car. Plus, the blog never asks, "Are we lost?" My bloggin' around will be more personal than the Detours travel column I've been doing the last 15 years or 190,000 miles ago.
I'll try to share the music I'm listening to, the food I'm eating — generally in the car — scenery and the sudden roadside attractions that always seem to fall my way. Today at the Sioux City Canaries minor league baseball game I bumped into John Kouris, the team's new director of promotions. He's a former Chicagoan who performed at Second City, in '96 and '97, he played football at Notre Dame and was last seen reading poetry with Sergio at Weeds before moving out to South Dakota.
He takes chances.
That's what a good road trip is about.
I also want to solicit responses from readers that will help me find my way. I've never been to South Dakota before. It feels like Iowabraska to me. My beaten-down Cubs pal Mike Reischl has already suggested Wild Billy's Tombstone in Deadwood and Al's Truck Stop on I-90 in Oakton, S.D. Earlier tonight I wandered by a bar called the Arrow Lounge in downtown Sioux Falls. The brick dive bar had a big neon arrow above the door pointing inside. I wanted to go in, but I had to get back to my Sleep Inn here to begin my blog.
A few things to get out of the way before I salute John:
1. I drove to St, Paul, Minn., over the weekend to do a couple of stories [one on pie], then drove five hours southwest to Sioux Falls. The single best phrase I heard on radio that entire time was on Bob Dylan's XM radio show, where the theme was marriage. He called the nine-time married Zsa Zsa Gabor "one of the mechanisms of evolution." I think Dylan's show is heavily scripted, but that line wasn't. Some other interesting St. Paul news is how the NBA's Minnesota Timberwolves is leaving its flagship station for country station BOB (KLCI). Can you imagine the Bulls on a country station?
2. What's with this list from the National Highway Traffic Safety Administration about "The 10 Most Dangerous Foods to Eat While Driving."?? 1. Coffee, 2. Hot soup, 3, Tacos, 4. Chili, 5. Hamburgers, 6. Barbecued food, 7. Fried chicken, 8. Jelly or cream-filled doughnuts, 9. Soft drinks (?!), 10. Chocolate. Wimps, wimps, wimps. What about sushi? Or fondue? The only dicey meal on that list is barbecued food. In '91 when I did Route 66 all the way, I stopped for some ribs outside of Oklahoma City. I was by myself and it was a true challenge to eat, drive winding roads, wipe my face and push the scan button on the radio when Garth Brooks came on.
One of the best things John Kouris is up to is leading fans in a sing-along, act-along to the Village People's "YMCA." Lots of ballparks do that, but the Canaries are blessed to have the Dowrummel Village Senior Citizen retirement center out beyond left field [where former Cub Chad Hermansen was stationed Sunday afternoon for Sioux Falls]. So a few times a year Kouris recruits a few 80-something residents from the village to lead fans in the Village People standard.
This is why I love minor league baseball. The people at Sioux Falls were so hospitable in making this weary traveler feel at home. They even gave me a Bob Barker Bobblehead doll from last season. Barker grew up on a South Dakota Res. Not surprisingly, the team is owned by Mike "Fun is Good:" Veeck. A couple months ago, the major league St. Louis Cardinals wouldn't even return my phone calls. [In my mission statement, I forgot to say I will not rant, which many bloggers do — this isn't a rant, it's the truth.]
So Kouris, 32, was working the stands on a sunny afternoon with his dog Payton — named after Walter, not Manning, as he pointed out. The Jack Russell terrier hails from Humboldt Park. Kouris' wife Lauren was communications director at Zanie's and one of her co-workers had a litter of Jack Russells. Sunday was "Dog Day Afternoon" here. "I was working as a grant writer at the American Heart Association in downtown Chicago," said Kouris, whom I never met. "I was a server at the Signature Room. I was a restaurant reviewer for the Reader. "I was bored with grant writing. I wanted to get back into sports. I read an article on Mike Veeck when his book 'Fun is Good' came out. So I wrote him a letter in December 2005 that said when I was a kid growing up in Northwest Indiana, his dad [Bill] and Harry Caray and Mike Royko were guys I aspired to be like. I told Mike I wanted to get back to my party roots. I asked him to help me do that. I asked for advice."
Kouris' father was a referee at the 2006 Rose Bowl. After Kouris and his wife visited his father over the holidays, they returned to their Ukrainian Village apartment. Still no word from Mike Veeck. "The next day, the first day back at work I got a call from the Sioux Falls GM," Kouris said. "He said they had a position for me. So we flew out that weekend. Here. Never been here [laughs]. I didn't know where I was. I like to say we're in the Plains, but this is definitely the Midwest. In mid-January I quit my three jobs and moved here. Didn't tell anyone. Sergio doesn't even know I'm here."
