Dealey Plaza

My trusty video camera ran out of battery at the crucial moment but the dependable Olympus has a video facility so here it is.

July 24th. New Boston to Vernon via Dallas.

After what was euphemistically described as a ‘Continental’ Breakfast – a bowl of rice crispies and a coffee, we set off for Dallas. As we were making good time we decided to stop off somewhere and look around as well as liberate some cash. Things are working out OK on the financial and timetable fronts though we might have a day or two of ‘DIY’ catering, or maybe not. Anyway we stopped in a place called Greenville which was just a long wide street intersecting the highway. It had a clutter of fast food places and a few non-descript shopping ‘malls’. I got the impression that it was some kind of accident that grew on the side of the road. Willy however, found a great discount store and added to his collection of shirts – He doesn’t want to be allowed to go shopping alone anymore. I got a ‘John Deere’ hat, one of those things that I just don’t know how I got by without for so long. Betty brought us straight to Dealey Plaza, the scene of JFK’s assassination in 1963. This was one of my dreams come true, to stand on the grassy knoll where Zapruder shot his famous film of the assassination, to stand by the picket fence where the alleged second bullet came from and to look up at the window from where Lee Harvey Oswald fired on President Kennedy. I was only six at the time but I do remember going to see him pass through the streets of Dublin in September ’63. We made our own American flags in school under the supervision of Mrs Doyle, my mother cut up an old pillow case for the flag. I wander. Up on the Sixth floor there is an amazing exhibition which chronicles the events and the various protagonists. The window area has been reconstructed, minus gun and spent shells but you can stand right beside the window and look down Elm Street and see the ‘x’s painted on the street where the bullets hit. Quite an experience. Unfortunately you are not allowed take photographs or film anything. Willy found a machine to make more flattened pennies to add to his, growing collection. I have decided to collect pencils, pins and iron-on patches. We then went for lunch up the road or ‘blocks’ as they call them here, but not before getting more t-shirts – ‘Don’t mess with Texas’ and my Texas Ranger badge, to a place called ‘Sonny Bryan’s on Market Street (302) where the charming Tammy looked after us with excellent onion rings and barbeque sauce followed by various meats and salads – just the job before a four hour drive. We set off with our objective being Vernon a town within a hundred or so miles of Amarillo, our next big stop and where we rejoin Route 66, I’m missing it already. I start reading ‘The Grapes of Wrath’ in Amarillo. We hit rush hour coming out of Dallas and I’m glad to say that no matter how big you (or the Texans) can make things, when everyone wants to go home at the same time, there is nothing you can do about it. The drive takes us Northwest and the landscape is beginning to change albeit very slowly. We were treated to a couple of wonderful sights which I wasn’t able to photograph as I was; a) On the Interstate and b) Driving but hopefully I can get some of them tomorrow or the next day or the day after that. One was the ‘mules’ I think there called, the curious bobbing machines which pump up oil from small wells all around the States. A strange sight, watching acres of these almost animal-like machines nodding at the ground like robotic grazing cows. The other was a very long train. Very long is a bit of an understatement, this train, two containers high, stretched away into the distance. I shall try and find out just how long they are. Finally and most picturesque was the sunset. It was a bit hectic driving into it, but as it sunk lower and the colours got more vibrant, it reminded me of what this trip is about – heading west. We checked into the ‘Super 8’ motel in Vernon but not before driving up it’s main street but the lights were out, shutters were down and nobody was home. Roy Orbison was born here, Willy reckons that moving to Memphis was the best thing he did. We went across the road (walking, though the guy in the next room drove) to the petrol station/deli and picked up some eats but the case of 12 cans of Busch lite cost $8 that’s just over 5€, are we being ripped off in Spain/ Ireland or what?

July 23rd. Graceland to New Boston

Breakfast in The Heartbreak Hotel with a very mixed bunch of Elvis fans and their families and/or husbands, wives, boyfriends, children and me. Then off to the Graceland complex. It’s a kind of quasi religious affair with the strains of Elvis echoing through car-parks and shopping malls like some sort of high priest of Rock n’ Roll summoning the faithful to the temple, or something like that. We take a bus, literally, across the street, Willy was amazed. I keep telling him that people don’t walk in this country – the car rules. Graceland has been perfectly preserved as a shrine to Elvis, it looks as if he just popped out for a double cheeseburger. It’s a strange mixture of Southern colonial and 70s kitsch not to forget you’re walking around a dead man’s house. Ruins and Palaces are OK, those people are long gone but walking into someone’s den and the TV is on, well…He’s buried here, as well as his mother, father and granny so that part is very sombre as everyone files past to pay their respects and then it’s the bus back across the road to visit some excellent exhibitions with the inevitable merchandising shops at the exit of each one filled in the most part by tacky memorabilia, some of which I was only too happy to buy. There is a great collection of his cars, his white bejewelled jumpsuits that he wore on stage, his two private ‘planes and a brief exhibition of his time in the army. But time to move on. Next stop was ‘Sun Studios’ where Elvis recorded his first disc – a song for his mother’s birthday (which was actually a few months previous, but he wanted a break with Sam Philips, the owner) We had a great tour around this place and our guide was an enthusiastic young lady who was right into her music (I think her name was Cori, forgive me), she reeled off the names of some of the daddies of Blues and Rock n’ Roll who had recorded there – Jerry Lee Lewis, Ike Turner, Roy Orbison, Johnny Cash, BB King and I got lost. I started writing down names, it’s terrible when you realise how little you know about something that interests you, well in my case anyway with the memory of a small carp. We then headed out west, towards Little Rock, to see a WWII submarine, but we got there 15 minutes too late and the Navy is the Navy, Oh well. Then we headed for Texarkana with the idea to spend the night in Paris, Texas of the film, but Betty, our GPS had other ideas and sent us on a circular route. At about 21:00 we decided to call it quits and booked into a ‘Tex Inn’. As we paid and got our key I asked where the nearest bar was. The receptionist gave me a bemused, all-knowing, holier than thou look, not even a grin, and said we were in a dry county. This was totally beyond Willy’s comprehension and he’s still struggling with the concept. But at least it gave us time to start the new Blog and we’ve written down the various user names and passwords. Every cloud etc. etc. Though tomorrow we’re filling the cool bag up with ale should we have a repeat performance.

July 22nd. St Louis to Memphis

After Robin had made sure we weren't going to starve,we said our goodbyes and headed south, the faithful Betty guiding us along I55 South. Pat had mentioned some wineries and breweries in St. Genevive and we took the turn but after about 20 miles driving through some beautiful farmland we reckoned we had missed them, so back on the road. We stopped for petrol and I wanted to try out our new coffee cups, the ones with the plastic screw-on lid and a handle, so you can drive around drinking a coffee, just like on the telly - why you would want to do this is beyond me but anyway, I managed to flood the coffee machine and the counter, and the sugar etc. but they were very nice about it, I can notice a real 'twang' in the accent now. As we were making good time we swung off the road and ended up in a small town called Steele which might just be in Arkansas, it's a small farming town with one road up the middle and one intersecting. We visited a 'good 'ol boys' bar, wooden fronted, pitch black inside with gaming machines and pool tables. Flags draped the walls, some for the Marines, for the troops in Iraq and Afghanistan, for the Cardinals and for the local bikers gang, it was midday so there were only a couple of locals who were highly amused by our accents, we were highly amused by the $1 a beer. So we arrived into Memphis and Betty brought us straight to 'Heartbreak Hotel' which is at the end of Lonely Street. http://www.elvis.com/epheartbreakhotel/It's part of the Graceland complex and it's ELVISELVISELVIS, Elvis music and films running 24/7. Willy started getting very figgety at the proximety of The King and immediatly bought some classic shirts. We took the courtesy bus into Beale Street which is where it all happens in Memphis by the looks of it. Full of bars and live bands AND you're allowed carry your beer out onto the street. There were blues bands playng in the park, at the entrances to bars and of course on stage. The bars are all classics, dripping with memorabilia but I just wonder, how many guitars did BB King actually have? We saw a great Johnny Cash tribute band and scoffed a full rack of ribs - oh and we had a beer. Instead of waiting for the bus back we took a taxi and it was worth every penny. Having agreed on a price, he didn't want to start the meter, something about the boss's mother and taxes, we set off. He was more interested in talking to us than going in a straight line but we got home, but not before he had regaled us with his three Elvis stories, two of which I almost fully understood. We closed the hotel bar and then tried to get some photos on this. But neither of us can remember which e-mail account we used or which spelling of the password was used. I think breakfast is in order.

July 21st. St Louis.

Our last day in St. Louis and our wonderful hosts, Pat and Robin have a few more local delights to share with us. First stop was the ‘Route 66’ Museum just outside St. Louis on an old stretch of the original road. It had a lot of local history and memorabilia which helped put it all into a local context. Best of all were the two ‘gals’ who ran the souvenir shop as one of them managed to part a bewildered Willy of $5 to buy a ‘coin passport, a curiosity where, along the way there are machines which will flatten and stamp a penny as a souvenir of the places you visit. I do believe however, that at the end of the trip, Willy will have an impressive collection of flattened pennies.
At this point we heard some tragic news. We went back to pick Robin up and she was standing aghast in front of the TV. A young 21 year old, son of friends of theirs had just been shot. He was a paramedic and they were answering an emergency call. As he stepped off the fire-truck, a shot rang out and he was killed instantly. So a tall, handsome 21 year old college football player whose vocation was to help people in need becomes another victim. Wherever we live on this planet there are stories of this kind. Who will be the first to say ‘No’ – ‘Basta ya’.
We then headed off to visit the famous Meramac caves, one of the main tourist attractions along ‘66’, it is quite an elaborate cave complex with all the usual cave fittings – big chambers, stalagmites and stalactites, an underground river, bats and Willy. The high point was a ‘Son et Lumiere’ show to the tune of an ancient recording of ‘God Bless America’ with our tour guide frantically throwing light switches to add a percussive background. Then it was to embark on a brief river trip with a charming local named ‘Kim’, he was understandably very proud of the river (Meramac) and I’m sure he would have had some hoary old stories to tell if we had nabbed him later with a case of beer – he certainly looked as if he was no stranger to a can of ale. There were all these college kids on holiday doing what I can only describe as lolling around in the river, hanging off an inflatable dinghy and out of their minds, apparently it’s acceptable practice though someone had drowned the previous weekend. The Meramac caves has quite a bit of history as it was used a saltpetre mine during the civil war and was also a hide-out for Jesse James. We visited the ‘Jesse James museum and waxworks’ for a truly ‘66’ experience. Apparently, Mr. James was not murdered at the end of the 19th century, but lived on the ripe old age of 102, dying in 1951 but the jury is still out on that one. It was also a major dance venue in the middle of the 20th century where people would come out for a ‘Hootenanny’ a sort of ‘Ceili’, but the objective is always the same. We sat on the kerb of a petrol station and had some ice-cold beer in a man-sized can – bliss as the saltpetre was playing havoc with my delicate throat. Back to base where Robin surpassed herself again and produced what I call my ‘Death row dinner’ – T-Bone steak, Baked potato, Corn on the cob, Brocolli, Beans and a salad (Robin’s special secret dressing) – followed by her special ‘Banana split cake’ – bananas are only a small part of this delight as Robin manages to squeeze in pineapple and strawberries as well. I will be very sorry to leave these people tomorrow as they have been so warm, hospitable and kind to us, taking time to show us part of their city and state of which they are justly proud. Thank you very much Pat and Robin – words can not express our gratitude and I only hope we can repay your kindness when you visit Spain or Ireland – You have been warned!

July 20th. St Louis.

My sleep patterns are all over the place, by about 23:00 I’m wrecked and I wake up at 06:00, which is OK because it means I can get my part of the blog up to date, Willy is writing his down and it will be transferred asap. After another wonderful breakfast – thank you again Robin. We went to a nearby shopping mall/centre or whatever, not one enclosed area but a vast village of big shops, one of which I know Dee8 would love, ‘Party America’ a humungous store dedicated to party decorations. We are trying to solve two problems – Willy’s camera has blocked and refuses to take photos and it is a serious camera when it does decide to work, the photos that appear are with my trusty Olympus – one of the best presents I ever got – though it has some technical shortcomings, but hey. The other problem is that we haven’t been able to connect to the Internet, my wifi card seems to work but then it won’t open mail or pages. I have spoken to some technicians and they don’t know how to explain it. A fairly global answer. We stopped by a coffee shop with wifi and lo and behold, after some tinkering around it started working. Today’s plan is to visit the Anhauser Busch brewery in town. It is the second largest brewery in the world and has just been taken over by Stella Artois or whoever makes that wife beating juice. The Busch family have been very benevolent to the people of St Louis, donating money to all sorts of projects and treating their employees very well, the big worry is what will happen now. Anyway, we went to the brewery and it is a showcase. I’ve visited several breweries in my constant search for the perfect beer and they are all working establishments, the smells, sights and sounds are the same wonderful sensual experiences (OK, so I don’t have to do a ten hour shift there), but this place still retains the original architecture, beautiful brickwork, wrought iron railings, colourful tiles all contrasted with the gleaming high-tech stainless steel vats, tubes, piping, valves and gauges..
Of course the big stars of the show are the enormous Clydesdale draft horses that appear in the Christmas TV ads. They are huge and are treated like football stars – no that does not mean they cheat on their wives, have a drink problem or abscond to Ibiza with a lap dancer. There are also two docile Dalmations who are part of the team. Apparently it was their job to scare away other dogs, small children or rats that might have got in the way of this particular wagon train.
Off to the hospitality suite for our complimentary two glasses of brew, in our case a ‘bock’, very tasty and indeed tasting of more. Hunger was making its presence felt so we headed off to an Irish bar on Washington Street called ‘Tigín’ (Little house in Gaelic) of course there was nothing little about it. A brand new (8 months) bar with all the high-tech trappings and little or no soul, not like Mc Gurks, but it was drawing a crowd and I’m sure will carve it’s niche. We had some burgers, they DO know how to make good burgers and Pat had a spectacular salad, definitely the best call. Then it was time to visit the ‘Arch’. This massive stainless steel arch dominates the city and symbolises (though not it’s original intention) the line between the ‘Old’ East and the ‘New’ West, this was where the settlers passed through on the various routes west in search of a new life, gold and a decent Marguerita. I took the teeny little tram, more like a pod, to the top. There was no sensation of height as you don’t see any thing on the way up and at the top it’s totally enclosed, rather like what I imagine the gondola on an airship is like, but it is an excellent view over the city and the mighty Mississippi. Back to base and some serious sofa.

July 19th. St Louis.

OK, so you can’t keep this up all the time. Some very delicate bodies around this morning but thanks to the charming Robin and her nursing skills we are soon munching through egg and sausage pie, bacon and eggs, toast, juices and buckets of coffee – true comfort food and a true angel is our Robin, thank you. Once our personal hygiene was taken care of we set of for the baseball game. Yes, we are going to a baseball game - another experience. So we go to Busch Stadium to watch the Cardinals play San Diego. It was the experience. First we drove through south St. Louis (Carondelet Park) where Pat was born and where my good buddy Jerry lived. We bought the souvenirs and the beers, stood for the National Anthem and ‘Play ball’. I won’t go into the details of baseball as I still have to learn a lot of the plays but suffice to say the ‘Cardinals’ made a comeback in the 5th inning thanks to the wizardry of the batter Pujols. The Cardinals really won thanks to the fact that Pat, Willy and myself had jumbo hot dogs. We then took a drive out to see some of the original ‘slabs’ of Route 66 and drove around looking at the wonderful scenery that is the Ozarks. Burgers and sweetcorn on the porch and off for the sleep of champions.