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I’ve have been in Santa Monica for three days, but have avoided going anywhere near the Santa Monica Pier where Route 66 ends as to extend my journey.

Today is my final day in California.  Jim suggests that we walk the Third Street Promenade (shopping, dining, and street musicians) and then walk down to the Santa Monica Pier to find the end of Route 66.

Santa Monica Third Street Promenade

Santa Monica Pier

Santa Monica Beach

Monument marking the end of the Will Rogers Highway

We stop at the Santa Monica Information Booth. The woman is very helpful and points us to the Route 66 marker. She hands me a log to document this trip. I enter the URL of this blog. I make one last attempt to purchase a Route 66 hat. All the others have been too small. It fits. The booth has a poster where you can take a photo to mark the drive’s end.

Route 66 enthusiasts argue about where the road ends. The National Historic Route 66 Federation says that the historic Route 66 end is at the very bland intersection of Lincoln Blvd. and Olympic Blvd. The other possibilities are 1) the end of Santa Monica Boulevard across from the Will Rogers Highway monument, 2) the entrance to the Santa Monica Pier, and 3} the entrance to Highway 1.

Since the end of Route 66 is open to debate, I choose to think of the end as under the arched sign for Santa Monica Pier. I began the drive under an arch. Might as well finish under one.

The drive is over, but the journey continues.

Happy Trails,

-JBBJR100

Addendum——————————————————————————————————————–

Post-trip thoughts:

Postcards: the First Vacation Tweets

Postcards live on Route 66 and I sent some to immediate family. I’m sure I’m not the first person to think that their messages were the first vacation tweets: a short message about what you are currently doing.

More Route 66 Postcard Info – http://www.66postcards.com/

L.A. – Everyone’s Second City

If you follow American mass media at all, movies, TV, pop music, celebrity news, then you know as many L.A. streets, neighborhoods, and adjoining towns as you do about your hometown. Hollywood and Vine, Sunset Boulevard, Malibu, Venice Beach, Marina Del Ray, Pasadena, Hawthorne, Santa Monica Boulevard, etc. Everywhere you look, you have a sense of deja vu.

New Trend: Spudware

The snack bar at the the Autry Institute uses biodegradable tableware made from potatoes.  Turns out that there are a number of biodegradeable alternatives to plastic utensils made from starches, biopolymers, etc. But I like the idea of potatoware. The potato farmers in Maine could use a new venue in this carbo-watching climate. And I think rewashing porous plastic utensils is a good way to breed germs and leach chemicals from the plastic. More Info – http://www.inhabitat.com/2007/10/13/spudware-cutlery-made-from-potatoes/

Brake Failure

Within a week of being home, the brakes on my car failed, with the pedal touching the floor. I was able to pull into a parking lot without incident. While I had a car rental on my drive, I couldn’t help thinking what would have happened if my brakes had failed on the Oatman Highway switchbacks.

Regrets

Somehow I missed the fried pie place.

All Set On New Cars Until Age 90

While I was visiting my brother, our almost 84 year old dad, my inspiration for my long drive west, announced that he had bought a bright red Chrysler Sebring with all the works. All the neighbors came out in his condo complex to admire the car. He said that he won’t need another new car until his 90′th birthday. I have been monitoring his driving for a year now and I have to say that he has a faster response time than my brother.

My dad is set on cars until age 90.

He is planning a long drive north to the Rangeley Lakes in Maine.

It was cloudy but hot when my father went through San Diego and it held no attraction for him as he hates the heat and after the war, he returned to his hometown of Hazardville, CT.

Ed and Jean must have brought two things with them: their Catholic faith as they went on to have 12 children, and a New England baked bean recipe, which when prepared by their youngest daughter, tasted exactly like my mother’s beans.

My brother must have inherited Ed’s weather gene as he hated winter and 25 years ago moved to L.A.

The only time I met Ed was at my paternal grandmother’s funeral. From the way they talked, Dad and Ed must have been close. Dad was worried about my brother being alone in LA and asked Ed to keep an eye on him. After that, Jim was invited to the major family events, including their annual Easter picnic on Laguna Beach.

On his Christmas visits home, Jim would tell news of this alternate relative universe. The first time my brother walked into Ed’s house he saw a photo of our grandfather on the wall.

Jim’s news of the cousins never stuck, as I had never met them.

After Ed died, youngest daughter Noots took over the role of family party co-ordinator.  Jim called her to tell her that I was coming out for a visit and asked if he could he bring me over. Noots suggested a pool party and barbeque in my honor. Four of the cousins could make it.

Jim’s role was to provide the appetizers, a role he said that he had perfected. The night before the party, I asked if Jim was going to have time to cook the appetizers in the morning. “What cooking?,” he said. “We are stopping at Trader Joe’s.”

As we drove out of LA towards the foothills I enjoyed having Jim drive while I took in the California scenery.

We drove into the hills of West Covina. As as soon as we entered the house I felt welcomed. Ellen Mary was the first cousin to hug me saying “We’re related, right?”  Then Cousin Noots gave me a welcome hug and later Cousin Brigid, who drove up from San Diego with her husband, Craig. As other friends and family arrived I was introduced to them. Cousin Joe and I skipped the hugs.

JBBJR and Jim with Cousins Ellen, Brigid, Noots, and Joe

The house was perfect for a party. The open living room adjoined the dining room. Noot’s husband, Ed, bought the house from his parents and had upgraded it significantly.

But outside was the real California attraction. There was a large pool with a diving board and adjoining spa. There were palm trees in the landscaping. The terrace overlooked the foothills, later providing a spectacular sunset.

Everyone but me brought food and it looked like a well-practiced routine in the kitchen. There were salads and slaws and lots of fresh fruit. There were three barbequed meats. Final proof that we were related: we were all big eaters.

At one point, Noots is running from the barbeque to the kitchen. Someone asks her a question. “Not now, said Noots, “I’ve got pork problems!”

Cousin Joe was the oldest, two years older than me, but he looked 10 years younger. He hikes and bikes frequently and dove off the diving board like a 12 year old.

Cousin Joe and Jim

Cousins Noots and Brigid kidded Jim. “You know, all these years and Jim never mentioned you. We didn’t know we had other cousins back east.”

“Hey, I always bring news and photos,” Jim answered in defense.  Like with his news of them, I’m sure it didn’t stick without having met me.

After supper, I found Brigid and Noots staring at me. “He has Dad’s eyes,” says Brigid. “Yes, so does his father,” Noots answered.

Brigid aand Noots

After supper (they call it dinner) everyone was in the pool or the adjoining hot tub (Noots called it the cess pool). The party was everything you could want in a California visit.  Everyone, I’m sure, had the usual problems and disappointments with life, but this group of California cousins knew how a good party could chase all your cares away and they knew the importance of human bonds.

From now on, I will remember Jim’s news about my new California cousins.

The Okie migrants who drove Route 66 to find work in California were savingsless. They carried all their possessions with them.

Depression Migrants in YouTube Video – http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xqaTv8cCWeg

Though I am without work currently, in no way can my case be compared to the plight of the dustbowl migrants. My drive on Route 66 was for pleasure, learning, and visiting and not for survival. I have resources they didn’t:

* A six month package from my former employer

* Unemployment checks

* A working wife

* Savings from ESPP (payroll stock purchases)

And, if things ever got that bad, and I’m sure they won’t, 401K funds targeted for retirement.

Most people still have jobs, but few feel secure.

Many people aren’t desperate, but find themselves with reduced income. My brother works for the state of California and will have 28 days less income next year.

Too many people without my resources do have much in common with the dust bowl immigrants.

LA is blanketed with For Sale signs. Marginal businesses have closed.

Yet, people with resources are making out in this economy. Two real estate people tell me that foreclosures are being scooped up for future profits.

And, everywhere in LA people are driving expensive cars and eating out.

Maybe they are owning the cars a few years longer and skipping dessert for non-dietary reasons. But they are not yet praying for a job picking peaches to assure that their family can eat.

I wonder how much my love of the American West was formed by the TV cowboys? Roy Rogers, the Lone Ranger, Gene Autry, Sky King (essentially a modern cowboy with a plane), Cheyenne, and Marshall Matt Dillon (Gunsmoke). Mine was the last generation fascinated with heroes in white hats bringing justice to the land of big sky. After the space race, outer space became the new west in Hollywood releases and the imaginations of a new generation.

http://www.autrynationalcenter.org/

http://www.geneautry.com/home.php

This blog followed a journey on Route 66 and touched upon the history of essentially white European expansion into the American West.

The Autry Center reminds us of the contribution of others.

The expansion took away the birthplace and rights of the American Indians. This is a topic covered extensively in various media.

The museum has exhibits on the contributions to the taming of the west from:

* Mexicans

* African Americans

* Asians

* Mormons

* Canadians

Yes, Canadians! 100,000 Canadian immigrants helped settle the west. Many of them French-Canadians. I never knew that. (Of course, I knew of Canadian trappers and missionaries, but not of this many settlers.) I wonder if French-Canadian cowboys had pea soup and meat pies with their fireside beans?

In Oklahoma, the Will Rogers Memorial Museums’ web site says  “Will Rogers was an Oklahoma Indian, a cowboy, an entertainer, a movie and Broadway star, a writer, a speaker, a comedian, a philosopher and a world figure. Towering above all, Will Rogers was a good and decent man.”

In California the Will Rogers State Historic Park web site says “In the early 1930s, Will Rogers was the most popular and highest paid actor in Hollywood.  From his start in vaudeville theater with a trick roping act, he rose to world-wide fame as a columnist, philosopher, radio personality, and movie star. During the 1920s, he bought land in Santa Monica, where he developed a ranch.  Eventually, the Rogers’ owned 186 acres overlooking the Pacific Ocean, in what is now known as Pacific Palisades. The ranch became the place where Will Rogers could relax with his family and friends, pursuing his favorite pastimes of riding and roping.”

So he started his career as an Oklahoma ranch hand who could do rope tricks and ended up as the best known entertainer and commentator in the country, living on a ranch in the hills of Santa Monica.

What’s the big deal about rope tricks? Watch this:

Some Will Rogers quotes:

“Advertising is the art of convincing people to spend money they don’t have for something they don’t need.”

“Don’t let yesterday use up too much of today.”

“Even if you’re on the right track, you’ll get run over if you just sit there.”

“I am not a member of any organized political party. I am a Democrat.“

“I don’t make jokes. I just watch the government and report the facts.”

“If the world comes to an end, I want to be in Cincinnati. Everything comes there ten years later.”

Jim and I visited his beautiful ranch in Santa Monica.

Ranch Tour

The ranch was a stupid rule against interior photos, so I can’t show you his living room or study.

More info about the Will Rogers State Historic Park – http://www.parks.ca.gov/?page_id=626

More info about Will Rogers Memorial Museums in Oklahoma – http://www.willrogers.com/

Jim works at a California university. His passion is guitar playing and song writing. His favorite guitar store is two blocks away.

Jim is developing a website, http://www.tuneyourguitar.com/ with renown guitarist Fred Sokolow. They are planning a major overhaul before launching the site officially.

Fred and Jim working on their web site,

Jim is a great host. After I give up the rental, he drives me where ever I want to go.

]]> http://route66gifts.wordpress.com/2009/07/29/25-brother-in-paradise/feed/ 0 route66gifts 100_0973 100_1033 100_0974 http://route66gifts.wordpress.com/2009/07/29/traffic-in-paradise/ http://route66gifts.wordpress.com/2009/07/29/traffic-in-paradise/#comments Wed, 29 Jul 2009 18:11:18 +0000 route66gifts http://route66gifts.wordpress.com/?p=447 ]]> As I approach the San Bernardino mountains, the landscape is still pretty barren, but traffic and stores increase significantly.  When I cross the foothills and rejoin Route 66 on Foothills Ave, I have a feeling of entering paradise. Vegetation is full, palm trees line the road, houses and stores are well-designed.

Route 66 follows the foothill towns of La Verne, Glendora, Azusa, and Duarte. I miss a turn and find myself heading directly to downtown LA, rather than via Pasadena. “Now I’m not bragging, man, so don’t put me down, but I’ve got..” a built-in GPS. Route 66 from Pasadena ends up on Sunset in Hollywood. I make turns to head to where I think Sunset is and I end up right on target.

The driving is terrible. Californians must learn to drive from drag racing. On green, accelerate as fast as possible, leave no room between you and the car in front of you, change lanes without warning, and brake only at the last minute.

I’m driving down Santa Monica Blvd. when I decide that it is getting late. I won’t do the final leg tonight. I go to my brother’s apartment, two miles from the Santa Monica Pier.  We have a late night supper at some hip eatery and then sleep.

Those who migrated to California to pick crops would head north after Needles, CA, Those who wanted to go to the coastal cities first had to cross a barren Mojave Desert.

As I drive across the flat desert and then its hills  I note how bland the landscape seems. I’m sure that geological processes for desert features are just as interesting as for red rock cliffs. But what makes us thnk of red rocks as beautiful while desert hills have all the appeal of a gravel yard?

For the last time on my drive I see a long cargo train parallel to the interstate. I saw dozens of trains on my journey, carrying coal and other goods. The railroads obviously had a major role in western expansion. There are many other blogs covering that subject.

Classic films of Route 66 show Oki trucks from the dust bowl navigating narrow roads and switchbacks without curbs or guardrails to protect against a  long drop off the sides. Many immigrants hired locals to drive the trucks over the switchbacks. What I did not realize was that the road has not improved much since those films were taken.

Sunset occurred as I approached the mountains. It was only eight miles to Oatman. Surely, there would be enough dusk light to safely travel the switchbacks.

Wrong.

These YouTube daytime videos will give a sample of what I had to navigate for eight miles in the increasing darkness:

It was the most intense driving of my life. I kept the left wheels on the center line, where there was one. I drove very slowly. My fear was that something would appear in the road and that I would automatically turn to avoid it. I kept repeating to myself, “Stop, don’t turn.”

There were hills and cliffs above me and many rocks on the side of the road that had been pushed from the road. Or maybe a local would drive the road fast and I would have to make room. Later I learned that wild burros will often stand in the road.

Going down the hills were as bad as going up. Finally, I reached Oatman. A former mining town, it was now a weekend tourist destination with cowboy attractions and shops. A bar was open. I was tempted to stop to calm my nerves, but I didn’t know what lay ahead.

Here is a silly slideshow on YouTube about Oatman and its wild donkeys:

The drive after Oatman was better, but not over. It took another 30+ minutes to get back to the interstate and another 19 miles to find a motel in Needles, CA.

I was glad this day was over.

Kingman was that town. The Pixar film gave the town’s rocks a Sedona-like red glow and several features were borrowed from other sections of Route 66, but otherwise Kingman was the heart of Route 66.

Kingman info – http://www.kingmantourism.org/Welcome_to_Kingman/

I arrived too late to visit the Historic Route 66 Museum, but I took a photo from the entrance window.

Historic Route 66 Museum – http://www.kingmantourism.org/Kingman_Tourism_Content/Kingman_Museums/Historic_Route_66_Museum/

Mohave Desert Museum

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