Oklahoma

          

Interstate 44 in northeast Oklahoma, down to Tulsa, is called the Will Rogers Turnpike, because Will was born in this territory, not far from Claremore, site of the WR museum and park.  I didn’t go there, or even to Claremore.  Probably more interesting to me is that Claremore was the birthplace of Lerskov Harold ‘Les’ Hardin, my stepfather for many years.  Les was “quarter-Cherokee”, probably not unusual in eastern Oklahoma, traditionally referred to as Indian Territory.  It was the settling place for many of the groups of Native Americans herded here from the Southeast along the infamous Trail of Tears.  Anyway, Les was a rough-hewn, rough-and-tumble Westerner, jack of all trades guy.  After being a WWII army explosives specialist, Les spent his life as a mountain man, mining explosives expert, gold miner, and wanderer.  From what I saw Les came from a tough crowd.  His grandfather’s brother was John Wesley Hardin.

But I digress.  I happily made my way south on the Old Road, keeping away from the Super Slab.  Some little towns were as dried-up as those I had seen in Missouri.  One sent me out on a lovely rough stretch of the highway that, after a few miles, ended in a cornfield.  Wrong turn.

                 

On the road to Tulsa I contacted Michael Wallis, to firm up our dinner arrangements for that night.  He instructed me to make two stops on the way down, both of which I found entertaining.

At tiny Foyil, I headed east several miles to Totem Park, created by a sculptor named Ed Galloway through the thirties, forties, and fifties, which includes the world’s largest totem pole.  Here are a couple of examples, world’s largest in the rear.

                  

 

  
Then at Catoosa I stopped at a long-decaying former tourist stop to see the Big Blue Whale.  This structure in a pond was once a popular place to climb and dive as kids enjoyed the swimming hole.  All that is left is a small souvenir shop whose proceeds go toward maintenance of the whale and the grounds.  
                    

     









Michael Wallis and I spent a long evening over dinner, reminiscing about many things, and I enjoyed many tales about his ongoing work on behalf of Route 66.  From his immense research for his book he has become a walking encyclopedia on the Mother Road.  He gave me a tour of downtown Tulsa, including the midtown promontory over the Arkansas River where he and others of the Route 66 Association are planning and fund-raising to build The Route 66 Experience, a headquarters/museum/visitor center.  It will overlook the spot where Route 66 crosses the river.  The next morning I stopped at a memorial park near that crossing to enjoy a great sculpture (above) signifying the transition between old and new roadway transportation.  I crossed the Arkansas and headed west out of Tulsa.

The road to Oklahoma City is pleasant, passing through numerous small towns.  Near Stroud, I saw the Rock Café with its complement of mockups of vehicles from the “Cars” movie.  It also shows off a good example of the local flat beige/rust rock (like flagstone) used in this region to side commercial buildings.  Further on, outside of Arcadia, stands the very old but nicely maintained Round Barn.

          

Chandler boasts one of the more interesting Phillips 66 filling stations.  Incidentally, Route 66 played a part in the decision by Frank Phillips and his cohorts to name their new gasoline that way.

  

Northeastern Oklahoma seemed to me a land of rolling hills and woods largely cleared for farming.  After I went through Oklahoma City and west toward the Texas panhandle, the land steadily flattened and dried out.  The highway is in varying states of repair, but interesting, with an occasional very old bridge.


                                           

Through the little towns blindsided by I-40, it was sometimes hard to tell at a glance whether a motel was dead and gone, or still on life support.  Also, I have noticed that an ongoing prop for parading Route 66 awareness is the old (preferably rusty) truck from the 1940s.  (I actually have one of those . . . next year may be when I get it painted and running again.)

           

Incidentally, the Glancy Motel-Hotel in Clinton, pictured above, was next door to the long-running Pop Hicks Restaurant, known far and wide for marvelous fried chicken.  Oops – Michael told me the Pop Hicks burned to the ground some years back.  Grease fire, no insurance.

Though I was pushing to get well across the Texas panhandle to Amarillo for the night, I did make a visit to the wonderful Route 66 Museum in Clinton.  It presented an extensive history of the life of the Mother Road, with many props from different periods.  A prop I loved was a slick Chevy Nova convertible (circa 1963) in the front window.

By this time Route 66 is climbing imperceptibly, through land that seems steadily more sparse and featureless.  I passed through a few towns along very flat open country, and soon left Oklahoma.