Route 66 Chronicles: Shadows of the Past over Route 66 Arizona - New Mexico (Broché)

It is a pleasure to share with you my memories of that famous, fabulous American highway, Route 66. Growing up near the Road in Arizona and New Mexico truly enriched my life, and if I can enhance, expand or deepen knowledge of it for the curious or the devotee, well, that only serves to authenticate the importance that the Mother Road holds for me.

The original motive for this work was the encouragement I received from my children to recount what it was like in the old days on Route 66. Once begun, over 7 years ago, the project took on its own momentum as I searched family archives, delved into history and explored the sites of the Route 66 region. So inspired, I spent much of my life fleshing out the mysteries hidden behind red mesas, the tales concealed within old buildings and etched upon canyon walls along the Little Colorado River. These tap roots, once discovered, sweetened the dregs at the bottom of my Route 66 reveries, and they offer a well-deserved salute to a long, winding landmark paramount in the lives of so many.

The bitter chill of January along the Little Colorado, the chocolate-colored rush of water near a toasty fire inspired my visions of mid-1800’s fur trappers huddled in lean-tos, dining on bacon and biscuits. Memories of cooking on that river linger when I’m exposed to the ambiance of an eatery designed to recreate the Old West — as in the Museum Club in Flagstaff, where I sipped a pop while Uncle Ray and the folks swigged on bottles of beer. I remember my father telling me about the skull atop a rock pile that marked the most dangerous spot on Arizona Route 66 at Two Guns. I used to stroll along in Holbrook with my Mamasita within a stone’s throw of two of the fiercest gun battle sites of the West — the bloodbath at the Bucket of Blood Saloon, and the Blevins’ House gunfight, where one particularly violent episode of the Sheep-Cattle owners’ feud took place. I explored The Cave of Death down in Diablo Canyon at Two Guns, a sad place considered to be haunted by ghosts of dead!

Apaches killed there by the Navajos.

In the 1940’s, kids like me were mesmerized by the beguiling objects found at Rimmy Jim’s in Two Guns and at the El Tovar at the Grand Canyon. Sugared oranges in miniature crates, colorful sweets in little glass cars fascinated us and were cherished treasures. The old trading posts, like the venerable Wolf’s on the Little Colorado, tempted their enchanted 1800’s travelers with champagne imported from Europe and other unimaginable wonders. Further down the river, Cameron’s proudly offered Indian blankets, furs and silver – earthy mementos snapped up by 1900’s tourists under the spell of the Southwest.

Many writers attempted to capture the quintessence of the West. Of an evening, I’d read Zane Grey’s captivating stories, tales that breathed life into my Tucker Flat Gang haunts — the high desert mesas and Camp Geronimo Scout Camp along the Mogollon Rim. Grey infused excitement into our favorite stomping grounds, and we joyfully interpreted what Grey created so beautifully in his books.

Then, there were the purveyors of fine food, elegant ambiance and décor — the Harvey Houses along the Santa Fe Railroad. Even at an early age, the caverns of the Alvarado in Albuquerque and the halls of La Posada in Winslow were special to me. I was fortunate to see, even hear speak, luminaries of the old days who starred in movies that were made around Flagstaff and Sedona. Seeing Hopalong Cassidy at Foxborro Ranch south of Flagstaff left me speechless, and listening to Errol Flynn under near riot conditions on the stage of the old Orpheum Theater was an experience that I never, ever forgot.

Young as we were my friends and I closely followed the epic of World War II, beginning with the Nazi march into Czechoslovakia, the death of Roosevelt and the radio announcement of the first atomic bomb. I was in Albuquerque that day in July when the first bomb was set off near Socorro. My Uncle Bill Mason was a Seabee in the Pacific Theater, and I’ve always been drawn to the stories of the Navajo Code Talkers and their heroism during World War II.

For half a century, the Flagstaff Pow Wow thrilled me and thousands of others. The chants and the drumbeats of the Apache Crown Dancers and the Navajo Yeibichai dancers made our hearts be fast and filled the July 4th streets of Flagstaff to overflowing as giant thunderheads gathered over the San Francisco Peaks. I worked off and on for years at my father’s soda fountain in Winslow, and consummated my Rite of Passage as a Winslow Bulldog on that famous ‘corner in Winslow, Arizona.’

The allure of Route 66 is due in part to the inevitable infusion of detail and drama into the vast array of its diverse icons. The contents of this book provide juicy information about those icons and will deepen understanding for anyone seeking heretofore hidden dimensions of the Road. I identify accessible sources available for those willing to take the time and effort to probe them, and hope that this effort will educate and entertain both the casual reader and the researcher. May those near and far discover newfound joy ~ and ‘get their kicks’ ~ reading about that great old Route 66.