Surprising The Surpriser

As a Route 66 tourguide, I like to be a surpriser and surprise the people on my bus tours with unusual facts.  And there is no better way to surprise people on a Route 66 bus tour than to talk about Paul McCartney’s birthday.

I say, “Let’s have a Route 66 trivia quiz!”

I start by asking the people on the Route 66 bus tour: “Paul McCartney turned 66 years old in 2008.  How did he celebrate his 66^th birthday?”  I keep on hoping that someone will make the connection: the number “66” appears in both “66^th birthday” and in “Route 66”.  But most Americans don’t make the connection because they assume that nobody who grew up in Liverpool, England, would ever have heard of Route 66.

Not so, most people in Europe have heard of Route 66, especially people growing up in Liverpool, which is only 55 miles from Blackpool, England, home of the Route 66 American Diner.

It is possible that Paul McCartney would have heard of that diner’s “Route 66 Burger Challenge” – where you have 30 minutes to down 10 burger patties, a pound of French fries, a bowl of chili, corn on the cob, and onion rings, all washed down with two liters of room-temperature Coca-Cola.  (Over 250 people have tried the challenge and failed.)

Paul McCartney celebrated his 66^th birthday by driving Route 66.

Next Route 66 trivia question is a multiple choice: “ Route 66, starts in Chicago and ends in Santa Monica, California.  Paul McCartney flew to Chicago and purchased a vehicle for his birthday trip.  What type of vehicle did he purchase?”

a.    An Aston-Martin

b.    A Lamborghini

c.    A BMW

d.    A beat-up ten-year-old Ford Bronco truck

The people on the Route 66 tour bus now go into deep thought, probably asking themselves: “If I had all the money that Paul McCartney has, which vehicle would I buy?”  People usually say “Lamborghini” or “Aston-Martin” or “BMW”.

Paul McCartney purchased a beat-up ten-year-old Ford Bronco truck.

At this point, I foolishly assume that the people on the bus would realize why Sir Paul bought a Bronco, and question number three would be really easy: “Where did Paul McCartney stay when he drove Route 66?”

a.    Five-star hotels

b.    Historic Route 66 motels

c.    Bed-and-breakfasts

d.    Campgrounds.

People usually answer say hotel or motel or B-n-b.

Paul McCartney purchased a tent and stayed in campgrounds.

Time to explain Paul McCartney’s goals for his Route 66 trip.  He was on vacation, and did not want his vacation spoiled by being recognized, and being mobbed by autograph hounds and paparazzi. 

Sir Paul just wanted to be the bloke in the next tent who had an old truck and a British accent.

He was recognized at a campground in Lebanon, Missouri, and at a few other places, but Sir Paul was mostly successful in being incognito and keeping his trip a secret.

He is a perfect example of the allure that Route 66 has for people around the world, so I like doing trivia quizes about him.

I did the trivia quiz on a recent Route 66 bus tour of the 1926 alignment of Route 66 in Illinois, between Springfield and Carlinville.  I asked how did Paul McCartney celebrate his 66^th birthday.  Then I asked what vehicle did he purchase.

At this point, a woman on the bus got very excited, waving her hand in the air, and yelling: “A BRONCO!  A BRONCO!!  A BRONCO!!!“

I was taken aback.  I asked the woman how she knew the correct answer.

“Paul McCartney’s truck broke down.  My daughter works for the American Automobile Association.  She was the dispatcher who sent someone out to fix his beat-up ten-year-old Ford Bronco truck.”

 

My mouth probably fell open in astonishment.  On that Route 66 bus trip, I was no longer the surpriser.



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This video is 7 minutes long, documenting the first person to ever defeat the Blackpool, England, Route 66 Burger Challenge.  He was an American!

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7XOx_yRc2Q4



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NOTE: Doug's best stories have been collected into a book: Puppy Out Of Breath. Price = $11. Send an email to ParadiseDouglas at gmail to find out how to purchase your own copy.

The Teenage Girl Who Dreamed Of Living In Paris

When my mother was a teenage girl living in Brooklyn, she dreamed of growing up and living in Paris.

She was a teenager during the Roaring Twenties, when Paris was the epicenter of art, literature, and fashion.  Paris was the home of Pablo Picasso, Ernest Hemingway, and Coco Chanel.

Yes, Coco Chanel.  My mother planned to move to France and become a fashion designer.  She knew she had an innate sense of design, and she knew she had the talent to draw --- she had the drawings to prove her skill.

My mother knew the first step in preparing for a fashion career in Paris was to learn French.  She asked to take French as an elective in high school, but there was a problem:  my mother was a twin.

Her father said that both his twin daughters must be treated equally.

My mother’s twin sister did not want to take French; so Mom was not allowed to take French.  Her future plans to live in Paris were squelched.

My mother used her design talents in other ways: she made lovely Christmas decorations for the house, her garden was the envy of the neighborhood, and she became a certified ikebana instructor.

Ikebana was a Japanese system of flower arranging, and it became popular in the US in the 1950’s.

Decorating, gardening, flower arranging.  But Mom kept her book of teenage drawings; she kept the book her entire life.

Mom did get to go to Paris.  I took Mom and Dad there when Mom was sixty-seven years old.  I was living in London at the time and knew of a delightful small Paris hotel, run by Madame and Monsieur.  The hotel had a resident dog.  A sidewalk café was right next door.

The hotel was modest: every room had a toilet and a sink, but the shared bathtub was down at the end of the hall.  You told Madame when you wanted to take a bath, and she would clean the bathtub for you.

My mother refused to use a bathtub like that.  I tried to point out that in America, people had used your bathtub before you rented your hotel room.  The only difference: in America, it would be 24 hours since a stranger used the bathtub; in our French hotel, it may be half an hour since a stranger used it.

So, my mother flew from Paris back to the US, unwashed.  Maybe, just maybe, that experience took a little bit of an edge off her disappointment, fifty-three years before, when her fate as a twin squelched her dream of living in Paris.

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Here is a 2-minute newsreel segment from the Roaring Twenties - if you are an artist, Paris is the only place to be:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yp3ZlKEb-YA

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NOTE: Doug's best stories have been collected into a book: Puppy Out Of Breath.  Price = $11.  Send an email to ParadiseDouglas at gmail.com to find out how to purchase a copy by mail

Look Up While Walking Downtown

I was standing in front of the Mississippi Valley Trust Company in downtown St. Louis while leading a walking tour.  A guy on the tour asked me to tell him about the mermaids.  I thought he was pulling my leg. 

Mermaids in downtown St. Louis?  Really??

Then he pointed over my head, and there were two mermaids on the building we were standing in front of.  I was stunned, because I have been leading tours of downtown for 15 years, and I had never noticed the mermaids.

I had not noticed the mermaids because I had never looked up while standing in front of the Mississippi Valley Trust Company.  What else had I missed because I had not looked up while walking downtown? 

The county library had asked me to give a lecture on downtown architecture.  I decided that the theme of my talk would be: Don't Pass Me By: Look Up While Walking Downtown".

So, I took a camera downtown, and started photographing the tops of buildings.  I made some discoveries.

I discovered that there was a soldier in a gas mask on the Soldiers Memorial.

I discovered buildings that mimicked their neighbors.  The new AT&T building has setbacks at the top, just like the old AT&T building next to it.

I discovered a parking garage with giant stars of David.  Or maybe they were hexagrams: one showing air pointing up and earth pointing down, and another showing fire pointing up and water pointing down.  I will never know for sure because the garage was built around 1915, and the architects are long gone.

I discovered that sometimes architects drew your eyes upward by varying the rhythm of windows.  I photographed the four-story-tall Tiny Bar Building --- not just because I know the owner, but because each of the four stories has a different window pattern.

Mostly, I discovered that nineteenth-century buildings liked to have an ornate roofline, mid-twentieth-century buildings liked to have no roofline, and contemporary buildings like to have a little bit of flair.

The contemporary Metropolitan Building has a little bit of flair:

The mid-twentieth-century modern Laclede Gas Building has no roofline at all:

The nineteenth-century Bee Hat Building has an ornate roofline:

The Bee Hat Building made me worry.  I was giving a talk at a public library.  Would a picture of buxom ladies staring down at pedestrians offend some people in the audience?  I worried that I would be kicked off the public library lecture circuit.

I took the risk.  I included the Bee Hat Building in my PowerPoint show.  I put my show on a memory stick, and went off to the public library to fire up the projector.

I waited for the audience to arrive, still worrying about the Bee Hat photo.

The first people to arrive were two women in their sixties.  They came early so they could get front row seats.  When they sat down, one of the women looked at me, and asked, with great anticipation, “Are you going to show us the ladies with the big boobs?”

I stopped worrying.

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Ringo Starr sings "Don't Pass Me By" - a 3.5 minute YouTube video:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-lkkRB0bGhU

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NOTE: Doug's best stories have been collected into a book: Puppy Out Of Breath.  Price = $11.  Send an email to ParadiseDouglas at gmail.com to find out how to purchase a copy by mail.

Looking For The Hundredth Museum

I decided that I would perform a public service. 

I had just signed up on Pinterest, a photo sharing website.  I saw that most people on Pinterest were posting photos of things to do: pictures of intriguing crafts, cool wedding ideas, tempting food with their recipes attached.

I decided that I would perform a public service.  I started posting photos of museums in St. Louis.

St. Louis prides itself on having a world-class art museum, a world-class history museum, and a world-class science museum.  St. Louis is even prouder because the taxpayers voted to tax themselves to support these museums.

I knew about a bunch of smaller museums, such as our Saxophone Museum, our Motorcycle Museum, our Museum of  Historic Torture Devices, our Museum of Transportation, our Mastodon Museum, and I knew that St. Louis is building a museum to honor the founder of the International Brotherhood of Electrical Workers.

I then started scouring the Internet to find other museums in St. Louis.  Scouring meant having to ask Big Question #1: what is a museum?  The Museum of Modern Religious Art – yes, it has Museum in its name.  The World Chess Hall of Fame – not so easy, because it does not have “Museum” in its name.  So, I had to make some decisions.

I decided to put photos of Halls of Fame on my Pinterest board for Museums in St. Louis.  The Weldon Spring Nuclear Waste Site has a photo on my Pinterest board because it contains a lovely little museum.  Because 60% of all the migrating birds in North America pass through St. Louis, we have The Audubon Center at Riverlands.  This place calls itself an interpretative center, but it sure looks like a museum to me...it was put on the board.

But historic houses do not qualify as museums, so I created a Pinterest board just for historic houses.

While scouring, I came across Big Question #2: What is St. Louis?  Should I just have photos of museums in St. Louis city?  Should I add in St. Louis County?  What about all those museums just across the Mississippi River in Illinois?

I decided that a museum in St. Louis = a museum within a reasonable driving distance of St. Louis.  “Reasonable driving distance” is defined as a museum close enough to Doug Schneider’s house that he would be willing to drive to it.

So, I answered Big Questions #1 and #2, and I scoured the Internet, and I now have 99 museums on my Pinterest board.

I am now looking for the hundredth museum.  Not sure if it will be in Missouri or Illinois; not sure if it will call itself a museum or a hall of fame or a visitors’ center; but I am sure I will be boasting to people that I have found one hundred museums in St. Louis.

Hopefully, people will not ask me if I have visited all one hundred of the museums.

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FOOTNOTE: Pinterest is free to join and does not send out many emails.  It is a site that clearly demonstrates that photos are compelling.  www.pinterest.com

If you are already on Pinterest, search for "Museums in St. Louis, Missouri".

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Here is a 2-minute wordless intro to the Great Rivers Museum in St. Louis, a museum built by the Army Corps of Engineers near the confluence of the Missouri, Mississippi, and Illinois Rivers:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hDgUTlIXSQk

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NOTE: Doug's best stories have been collected into a book: Puppy Out Of Breath.  Price = $11.  Send an email to ParadiseDouglas at gmail.com to find out how to purchase a copy by mail.

Our House Was An Island

It rained a lot on the first day; it rained a lot on the second day, and on the next day, and on the day after that.

9 inches of rain fell on the St. Louis area, which meant the Mississippi River would rise.  9 inches of rain fell on central Missouri, which meant the Meramec River would rise and was not be able to empty into the swollen Mississippi River. Then the Meramec River began backing up towards the town where we live.

9 inches of rain fell on the towns of Manchester MO and Ballwin MO, which meant that Fishpot Creek would rise and was not able to empty into the swollen Meramec River.  Then Fishpot Creek began backing up towards the house where we live.

The flooding creek was eerily silent as the water crept toward us inch by inch.

But the silence of the advancing floodwater was broken by the constant buzz of news helicopters in the sky filming the scene below, as the floodwaters cut off, one by one, the three access roads to our neighborhood.

For nearly two days, our house was an island.  Our house remained dry, but we were stranded and could not drive anywhere.

There was, however, one path that remained dry and you could walk out of the neighborhood.  That path was patrolled by a Fire Department ATV, complete with a stretcher on the back, in case someone needed to be taken to higher ground to reach a hospital.

But most people used the path to walk to the neighborhood pub.

Normally, the pub is jammed with jovial people.  But now it was jammed with somber people, who silently wondered if the pub would run out of beer.

Then the pump at the local sewer station failed.  Some of our neighbors’ basements began to fill, not with floodwater, but with sewer water. The people at the pub said the failure was due to human error.  The sewer district, trying to avoid paying damages, said it was due to natural causes.

The streetscape of our subdivision became one of unsalvageable basement furniture lodged amongst black garbage bags full of wet basement stuff.

Our house remained dry.

The Mississippi River crested and receded.  The Meramec River crested and receded.  Fishpot Creek crested and receded.

Years ago, FEMA had declared that our neighborhood was not in a flood zone.  It is an oddity that insurance companies can only sell flood insurance to people who live in an official FEMA flood zone. Therefore, we had no flood insurance because we could not buy flood insurance.

The flood meant days of watching water coming toward our neighborhood, becoming stranded, hearing helicopters overhead, and wondering when the waters would crest.

For many in Missouri, the flood was a hardship.  For us, it was mostly mental strain.


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Here is a 3.5 minute video of Johnny Cash singing his flood song "Five Feet High And Rising" with the help of Biff, the Sesame Street construction worker:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5M2v-pkSIQY

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NOTE: Doug's best stories have been collected into a book Puppy Out Of Breath.  Price = $11.  Send an email to ParadiseDouglas at gmail.com to purchase a copy by mail.

Mastering The Atlantic Ocean

When I was a kid, our family went to the beach a couple of times a week.  My parents would choose which beach to go to.  Sometimes they chose a beach on a placid bay or harbor.  Sometimes, they chose a beach on the Atlantic Ocean.

If our family was going to the Atlantic Ocean, I always wished there was turbulence in the atmosphere that would make the Atlantic’s waves big and scary.  When the waves were at their scariest, I could show off.  I could show off because I had mastered the Atlantic Ocean.

To master the Atlantic Ocean, I looked for the point where the waves crested and crashed downwards.  Children and elderly people stayed in shallow water, and never went out to the crest point, because the ocean could be nasty.  If a wave crashed down on you, it would whack you in the face, knock you backwards, and drag you helplessly towards shore over a bed of annoying pebbles and jagged seashells.

I would wade out to the crest point.  The key was getting past the cresting wave – I learned to do this by judging a wave’s arc and diving through the wave at the right moment to emerge safely on the other side.  This got me out far enough where a cresting wave could not smash me.

I then swam farther out to take advantage of the waves themselves.  By looking at a wave, I could determine if it had enough energy to take me back to shore.  If a wave was right, I started swimming toward shore on top of the wave, which lifted me and carried me shoreward.  Because I was on top of it, the wave did not smash me.

Instead the Atlantic Ocean delivered me to shore speedily and gently, avoiding the annoying pebbles and jagged seashells.  I wound up in shallow water amongst the legs of all the young and the elderly who were standing there.  I hoped that they saw me showing off and riding the wave to shore.

When I went away to college, the media turned a spotlight on the Pacific Ocean.

The radio started playing songs about guys riding surfboards on the Pacific Ocean while wearing bathing suits imprinted with tropical flowers.  Annette Funicello sang “A Surfer’s Life For Me”, and the Beach Boys celebrated “Surfin’ USA”.  There were movies about guys riding surfboards on the Pacific Ocean while wearing bathing suits imprinted with tropical flowers.  

These guys were having an Endless Summer or playing Beach Blanket Bingo.  People on television started using phrases like “hang ten” and “wipe-out”.

I felt like I was missing out on something.  I had never been to the Pacific Ocean.  I did not own a surfboard.  None of my bathing suits had tropical flowers on them. 

Then a light went on.  I realized that, for years, I had been doing what surfers do.  I had shown off and ridden waves, but not with a surfboard, I rode the waves with my body. I was a surfer – a bodysurfer who had mastered the Atlantic Ocean.

Unfortunately, there was one problem with body surfing on the Atlantic Ocean: it meant that I would never get to meet Annette Funicello, because she was waiting on a blanket on the wrong side of the Continent.


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Here is the 1965 movie trailer for Beach Blanket Bingo, with a cameo by Buster Keaton dancing The Swim ("Kinda like the monkey, kinda like the twist").  A 3-minute video:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Nx_NdCKznUM

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NOTE: Doug's best stories have been collected into a book: Puppy Out Of Breath.  Price = $11.  Send an email to ParadiseDouglas at gmail.com to find out how to purchase a copy.