Road trip news, rants, and ruminations by the Editors of RoadsideAmerica.com
February 27, 2020
Lucy, a six-story-tall elephant-shaped building on the Jersey Shore, has long been advertised as “the only elephant you can go into and come out of alive.” She will soon be the only elephant that you can go into, take a nap, and emerge undigested the next morning.
According to Save Lucy Committee Executive Director Richard Helfant, overnight stays for two people will be available on March 5, through Airbnb, for three days only: March 17, 18, and 19. Lucy’s innards will be decorated Edwardian-style, from the sheets to the rugs, to replicate how they looked in 1902 when a family from England used Lucy as a summer home.
Although Lucy offers a view of the beach through her eyeball-windows, there is no running water inside the elephant — just like in 1902 — so overnighters will have to walk outside to a bathroom trailer with a shower, toilet, and a sink.
Because Lucy is 138 years old, the price per couple will be $138. Helfant has hinted that if this first experiment goes well, Lucy may again welcome overnight sleepovers — although that’s unlikely to happen during the summer crush of sunburned Lucy fans.
Day visitors during March 17-19 will be able to see the retro-interior between its overnight guests. Then Lucy’s innards will return to their usual tourist-friendly, non-digestible configuration.
December 1, 2019
Little remains of the original soft drink Mountain Dew except for its name, its garish red and green label colors, and the fact that it has enough sugar and caffeine to choke a mule.
It was concocted in 1946, in Knoxville, Tennessee, by two brothers who didn’t want to sell it or drink it straight. They used it as their own personal mixer for their whiskey. When it first hit the market in 1951 it was sold in little 7 ounce bottles, not enough to quench a 12 ounce thirst, but enough to mix with a shot or two of bourbon.
Mountain Dew in those days did not sell well, and tasted something like 7-Up. The flavor that Dew drinkers know today was invented in 1960 and first put into Mountain Dew bottles in either Marion, Virginia, or Lumberton, North Carolina (Both towns claim credit). The South loved the new taste so much that Mountain Dew was bought by Pepsi, which took the drink nationwide with a five-year-long hillbilly marketing blitz. Today the neon green beverage is the third most popular soda brand in the world.
Modern “Game Fuel” Dew drinkers have little awareness of the beverage’s corny origins, which is why Knoxville’s Museum of East Tennessee History is hosting a surprisingly sprawling exhibit that chronicles Mountain Dew’s history.
The timeline goes back to the day of moonshine stills and Prohibition, introduces cultural cousins such as Snuffy Smith and Barney Google, Hee Haw and The Beverly Hillbillies, and ends with Mountain Dew’s post-hillbilly marketing that associates the soda with everything from NASCAR to snowboarders. Rare vintage bottles are on display — there were over 900 different early varieties, making Mountain Dew popular with collectors — and there are lots of cartoony, bearded, barefoot hillbillies with flintlock rifles and floppy hats. There’s even an exhibit devoted to early Mountain Dew imitators such as White Light-ning and Hill Billy Joose. You can watch old TV commercials and listen to vintage radio spots with titles such as “Raidin’ Varmint” and “Airyoplane.”
Displays show how Mountain Dew abandoned its hillbilly roots in 1969, then flailed for decades with flop ad campaigns (“Taste the Sunshine,” “Get That Barefoot Felling”) before embracing its sugar-and-caffeine formula to become the fuel of choice for gamers, programmers, and insomniacs in general. There’s been a homecoming of sorts as well; one showcase displays limited-time retro-brews such as Mountain Dew Throwback that have resurrected the original 1940s image of a jug of cork-popping Dew shooting a hole in a hillbilly’s hat.
The exhibit runs through January 20, 2020.
November 2, 2019
Elizabeth Tashjian, curator of the world’s only Nut Museum, has been gone for 12 years. But like a burst of fresh growth in the Spring, interest in the late, self-titled “Nut Lady” has revived — thanks to a retrospective of her nut paintings, drawings, and sculptures at the Cummings Art Gallery at Connecticut College in New London.
According to the gallery press release, the retrospective “recreates the Nut Museum’s main exhibition gallery [which was the Nut Lady’s dining room] with all of its original furnishings, art, and displays.” It also features a video compilation of Elizabeth’s many appearances on national TV, serenading Johnny Carson, David Letterman, Jay Leno, and others with her self-penned songs, “Nuts Are Beautiful” and “March of the Nuts.”
We know, we know… a roadside attraction without its charismatic owner is like a tree without a nut. But this is still a rare opportunity, for those too young or too sane at the time, to experience the Nut Museum — or at least as near an approximation of it as is possible — before it was closed and bulldozed in 2002.
The retrospective is scheduled to run through December 6.
September 22, 2019
Rocky Taconite, the bulbous metalloid ambassador of Silver Bay, Minnesota, was unveiled as a 12-foot-tall statue in 1964. A few years later a local woman, Marie Benson, decided that Rocky would make a good bobblehead. It was bold thinking, because the modern bobblehead industry was still decades in the future.
Mrs. Benson had no access to injection molding, scanners, or machine tools. Instead, she made a rough model of Rocky in her kitchen using various items that she found around the house, including alphabet macaroni to spell out “ROCKY TACONITE.” She made a mold of her model, then made casts of Rocky in plaster, glued in a spring, and hand-painted every one.
Not many Rocky bobbleheads were produced, but their homely charm left a lasting impression in Silver Bay.
Fast forward to the 21st century. Ruth Koepke, vice-president of the Bay Area Historical Society, was a fan of Rocky — she described him as “a strange little rock man” — and remembered the bobbleheads. She believed that they were worth reviving. A professional company did the work this time, and the bobblehead was made available by phone order.
Despite his makeover, Wobbly Rocky had lost none of his so-weird-he’s-cute appeal. He became a social media celebrity, appearing in photos taken as far away as Vietnam and Australia, carried by people who had never been to Minnesota, or the U.S., and certainly not Silver Bay.
Today, Rocky Taconite is far better known as a bobblehead than as a statue, which is a shame since he’s a really great statue. The modern bobbleheads can be purchased through the Bay Area Historical Society at 218-226-4534.
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August 27, 2019
Last month, while wandering the backroads, we spotted a cheery banner advertising: “Civil War Days.” Bit of a shock, because we were on the northern California coast. Was there a famous battle here?
Civil War Days, a full-blown multi-attack reenactment, is held one weekend every July in Duncan Mills — where battalions of Union and Confederate soldiers skirmish with swords, rifles, artillery. There are even cavalry charges. It claims to be one of the largest Civil War reenactments west of the Mississippi, and we don’t doubt it.
Though not a roadside attraction, we were curious how the Left Coast handles a 150-plus-year old conflict that happened somewhere else (and necessitates waving a few Confederate battle flags). It turned out to be a family-friendly event, no overt politics but plenty of history and meticulous military action, with a large assemblage of enthusiasts camping out for the weekend.
2019 was the 20th anniversary of Civil War Days. Reenactments elsewhere typically occur during cooler months, but the coastal climate and morning fog along the Russian River make for relatively comfortable melees. The landscape is dramatic — a Y-shaped valley, ringed by forest and nestling a grove of coastal redwoods, amid steep scenic hillsides. The property is a privately owned cow pasture, transformed annually by volunteers into a 19th century killing field.
Spectator bleachers line one side of the field; the rest is kept impeccably accurate to the 1860s. Amenities such as portable toilets are hidden behind burlap shrouds. Visitors can wander the fields and military camps during long intervals, but then clear out when the hostilities are about to start. All attendees have the schedule to assure they won’t miss out on something: a vintage baseball game, a mounted artillery demonstration….
There’s an extensive “Sutler” — civilians tagged along behind armies on the move, set up tents and sold their wares. The merchants provide all the accoutrements needed to live in the 19th century — or at least, through the weekend as a re-enactor — clothing, supplies, weapons, food, and souvenirs. Plenty of time to shop between battles, so we headed toward one of the military camps, and heard singing coming from the redwood grove — the Sunday morning worship service. Stepping into the dark, cool grove, we could see that some congregants were on horseback.
It was soon battle time. From the safety of the bleachers, we had a perfect view. It started with a few scouts and sharpshooters, a couple of mounted patrols, and quickly ramped up. Dozens of soldiers marched from tent camps, muzzle-loaded artillery wheeled into position. Suddenly, hundreds of troops charged, turned in unison, fired rifles and reloaded.
These weren’t set piece recreations of actual historic battles. Loosely sketched maneuvers and entry timetables evolve into the live chaos. The regiments were from California and elsewhere, named after real Civil War units (the 20th Maine Company G, known for their “charges with fixed bayonets” according to a factsheet, is based in Marin County, California).
It’s somewhat overwhelming to witness. Chaotic, loud (bring earplugs). There were mounted cavalry sword attacks, and hand to hand combat. At one point, we saw an entire clump of soldiers fall dead from a cannon blast at close range.
We swear, a guy with modern cameras was flushed out of the forest by cavalry and shot. His corpse was out in the brush for a long time.
A horse-drawn ambulance wagon appeared to cart off the wounded. Between battles, in the Union camp, we saw a surgeon’s tent, easy to identify by its pile of bloody amputated (plastic) limbs.
One returning Civil War Days highlight is the reassuring presence of Abraham Lincoln. Our 16th president saunters around the civilian camp and fields with a military entourage. He greets every passerby. He gives speeches. Lincoln presenter Robert Broski brings America’s Great Emancipator to life. He’s a tall, cordial Abe, quietly introspective at the right moments. After one lopsided battle, President Lincoln asked the band to play “Dixie” as consolation for the losing side.
There was another terrific interpreter playing Alexander Stephens. Most people don’t know who Stephens is, let alone what he looked like. Our Stephens endured about five seconds of blank stares before telling us “I’m Alexander Stephens, vice president of the Confederacy!” Well, duh. Stephens shared that he and Lincoln were good friends before the war.
It turns out there was a role for California in the Civil War — it had become a state a decade earlier in 1850, had abolished slavery and remained loyal to the Union. California’s many southern sympathizers were locally ineffective during the war. In 2019, there was a noticeable imbalance between the Blue and Gray — at least 2/3rds of the re-enactors were in Union units. One civilian merchant told us this wasn’t always the case — that some years it was more balanced, and the South would actually win a few fights.
And while the audience in the bleachers is diverse, we’d love to see an African American unit or two on the field of battle. A few Union Army black units formed in the East after the movie “Glory,” and it’s an important aspect to explore (California has its share of Reb and reconsidered landmarks — an hour south of Civil War Days, a local school district was in the middle of renaming their 19th century “Dixie School”).
Women aren’t left out of all the fun — some participate as soldiers and cavalry officers, some as nurses and surgeons, camp merchants, or as distressed civilians who run across the battlefield screaming after the first hail of bullets.
July 9, 2019
America’s 1950s-70s kids clearly had the wrong impression of when they’d be fitted for spacesuits.
The USSR and the USA were ideological competitors stoking space exploration excitement among their citizens. American schools and the media jammed wee developing brains with images of astronauts, and moon bases with cutaway glimpses of crew quarters, gyms, and play rooms.
It seemed it would be mere years between that first Moon footprint and the first smarmy lunar tourist “Wish You Were Here” postcard sent back to Earth.
It’s been FIFTY YEARS, and we’re still waiting.
Luckily, America’s mighty tourism and entertainment industries stepped in to distract us with space experiences on Earth.
Fantasy trips to the Moon weren’t new — novelist Jules Verne wrote “From the Earth to the Moon” way back in 1865. The fringe fans of early 20th century SF pulp writers found their speculations becoming ever more relevant.
Meanwhile, in the real world, Robert Goddard blasted missiles into the stratosphere when cars barely traveled 40 mph. It was after World War II that advances in technology (and captured German rocket scientists) accelerated development of rockets capable of escaping earth’s gravity.
Science fiction movies throughout the 1950s amped up the scenarios (see the trailer for George Pal’s “Destination Moon,” which finishes by showing a pile of popular magazines containing stories about space travel).
So it wasn’t much of a surprise when Disneyland opened its iconic space travel ride, “Rocket to the Moon,” in 1955, later upgraded to “Flight to the Moon,” then “Flight to Mars” (A near identical “Flight to the Moon” launched at Disney World in 1971). In 1959, even mini-golf attractions, such as Florida’s Goofy Golf, offered putters a space rocket hazard — on their way to the alien cyclops hole.
By the time of the New York World’s Fair (1964-65), NASA was done with Mercury missions, proceeding with Gemini launches, and deep in planning and testing for the moonshot. The Unisphere, the Fair’s central metal globe sculpture, featured paths representing the orbital flights of John Glenn, Yuri Gagarin, and the Telstar communications satellite.
NASA’s Rocket Garden at the Fair let millions of visitors know, among all the international “Peace Through Understanding” exhibits, that everything was A-OK with the space program.
In the mid-1960s, the Kennedy Space Center was an essential Space Coast tourist destination, especially for families trekking to Florida from dozens of states to the north. The public boarded buses outside the sprawling installation, and enjoyed a narrated tour of the assembly, control and launch areas. The site was abuzz with activity, in preparation for actual launches.
It’s expensive to visit today, but back then it was two bucks per adult. We found an old silent home movie of the bus tour in our scary archive of family films. Shot in early August 1966, you can see NASA workers in short sleeved white shirts, the Vertical Assembly Building (touted then as the “largest building in the world”) and an early Saturn V on the launchpad.
A couple of things to watch for in the film:
At one point, car traffic is backed up behind a huge rocket component on a trailer, stuck behind an overheated NASA security vehicle (Look for the brief shot of the truck with its hood up). The bus drives on the grass to get by.
Even NASA’s advanced design cylindrical porta-potties were a fascination magnet — and where kids could practice their own splashdowns.
Roadside America’s Road Trip To The Moon
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