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Travels with Caroline and Party Research Part 4
The second day of our journey from Chicago to Joplin, Missouri started with a great spelling debate. Really, how do you spell “ketchup”? We spell it with K-e-t-c-h-u-p, and so far our friends, Heinz, Hunts and Wikipedia all agree with us. However, Brooks and the good folks of Collinsville, Illinois disagree. We had plenty of time to ponder this question and confer with our awesome Sunday School class via Zoom, as we made the trip from Springfield, Illinois to Collinsville.
It took well over an hour to get from Springfield to our first stop of the day, the World’s Largest “Catsup” Bottle. In history class (and even in law school) we talked a lot about “company towns”. When I think of these, I really think of mining, lumber, or mining operations (remember the song Sixteen Tons?) Turns out there are also ketchup company towns, and Collinsville, Illinois was one of them. The World’s Largest Catsup bottle is a unique water tower that was built in 1949 at the Brook’s Catsup plant headquarters. The company relocated in the 70’s, but their “condiment monolith” remained. The “bottle” itself is nearly 70 feet tall, and it sits on top of a 100 foot steel tower. As far as “stats you’ll never need to know” go, the bottle could hold up to 64,000 bottles of regular ketchup. In reality it holds 100,000 gallons of water. The bottle got a facelift in the mid 90’s that was carefully based on an original Brook’s bottle from 1949. The Catsup tower was purchased by a contractor in 2015, and he guaranteed the town that he would preserve it. Our trip to the Brook’s water tower proved to be uneventful, but there is a World’s largest Catsup Bottle festival held in Collinsville annually. (We may have to go back because we LOVE a small town festival). Before we head off to our next destination, I can’t help but mention that legend has it that pregnant women that walk too close to the catsup bottle are known to give birth to redheads.
Our itinerary had the World’s Largest Catsup bottle being our last stop in Illinois, but in reality the Chains of Rock Bridge was our last stop. This was based on our basic research that told us to hit the Chains of Rock bridge in Missouri. From an east to west perspective the bridge actually starts in Illinois and crosses over the Mississippi to Missouri, but we tried to stick with our original plan to hit the bridge in Missouri. So, we crossed the Mississippi and headed to our destination to find out that the Missouri side the bridge was closed. We were undaunted in desire to see the Chain of Rocks Bridge, and Alex is good with satellite maps. So we crossed back into Illinois and found the bridge entrance. The Chain of Rocks Bridge starts on Chouteau Island. First we had to cross a one way bridge to get onto the island. We waited for our turn to cross the island and streams of cars were coming off the island. When it was finally our turn, I was surprised to see that we were the only car crossing from the mainland to the island, while more cars were queuing up to leave. It was starting to seem a bit creepy like we were running into a storm and everyone else was fleeing. Caroline thought we were about to be the lead characters in a horror movie. As we finally got closer to the start of the bridge, we realized that we had stumbled onto the end of a bicycle race. If the throngs of bikers walking their bikes up from the bridge weren’t enough, the inflatable Start and Finish arch at the beginning of the bridge was the final bit of proof we needed.
The Chain of Rocks Bridge was originally built as a toll road in 1929. Unlike most bridges, the Chain of Rocks Bridge has a distinctive 22 degree bend (or maybe 30 it all seems to depend on the source. Either way it’s substantial) in the middle of the river. The bridge served as an operating motor bridge until February 1970. In 1998 it was converted to a hiking and biking trail. Our desire to pack light meant we were hardly wearing serious walking shoes, so we strolled part way across the bridge and stopped to look across the Mississippi (I swear I hear Annie spelling this when she meets Grace at the orphanage every time I write it). We also paused to wonder what the small “castle like” structures were in the middle of the river. It turns out they were water intakes built by the St. Louis waterworks. We made our way back to the island where workers were still busy cleaning up after the race. We climbed back in the car, crossed the Mississippi again, and headed into downtown St. Louis.
I told myself that I was going to stay positive about every place we went, but I would be remiss not to mention how absolutely terrible the roads were in St. Louis. In what was clearly a miracle we did manage to make it to the Gateway arch without getting a flat tire. The Gateway Arch was the closest thing we saw to a “traditional” tourist attraction. We wandered the grounds that were full of visitors, and took note of the courthouse that was closed to visitors. Caroline pointed out name of the street between the National Park and the courthouse was Dred Scott, and I was very happy that she had a full understanding of who he was and his impact on history. Much like the Chicago Museum of Art, the Gateway Arch and its surrounding buildings are the sort of thing we would normally have spent more time delving into and enjoying, but we had a list of other iconic Route 66 destinations to see. Not to mention there is NO way you are getting me on that tram ride.
Our last stop in St. Louis was the Ted Drewes Frozen Custard stand. Ted Drewes Frozen Custard started as a result of one of our favorite things… tennis. Ted was a tennis player from St. Louis who travelled to Florida each winter to be able to keep playing. He opened his first custard stand in Florida in 1929. In 1930, he opened his first location in St. Louis. They opened several locations, but by 1958 were down to the two that are in St. Louis today. Like the Rich and Creamy Ice Cream Shop, Ted Drewes Frozen Custard is a walk up shop. While most places are content to have a couple of windows to serve customers, Ted was committed to service. He expanded the 5 window location to 12 in 1958. There were 7 running when we were there at 11:30 on Sunday morning. If Frozen Custard isn’t your thing, the custard shops also serve as Christmas tree stand. We were seconds away from ordering frozen custard, when we decided that we should hold off since our next stop was an actual grill. (For the record, we did enjoy frozen custard at Andy’s at the end of the night in Joplin).
Our lunch stop was originally the Big Chief Motel and Grill, but it has been renamed the Big Chief Roadhouse. The Big Chief Motel was opened in 1928, and was less of a Marriott and more of a simple solution to help travelers who were tired of camping. Rather than a single building with room, the Big Chief featured tourist cabins, the latest rage in traveling accommodations at the time. In addition to a large number of cabins (each with its own garage), the Big Chief also offered full service dining and had hot and cold shower baths. The Big Chief’s architecture was also unique for Missouri at the time it was built. The main building was and still is based on Spanish Mission Style Revival architecture. The building was built with white stucco and terracotta tiles on the roof. Inside the ceiling featured exposed rafters. The main building still remains and looks pretty much like it did when in its heyday. The cabins and the playground are gone or have been replaced with a vegetable garden, and the once sprawling cabin court is now a single building with a bar and grill. The inside of the restaurant still boasts the exposed beams, but otherwise doesn’t offer much in the way of inspiring décor. It has red pleather booths that have seen better days, and the minimal art is traditional pictures of Native Americans in traditional costumes and full head dresses. The food was delicious, and our server “Mama Bear” was happy to offer advice on whether Alex should order the turkey club or the French dip. Perhaps, it’s the years we spent living in California where stucco houses and terracotta roofs are the norm, that have me less enamored with the place than most. Either way the food and the staff explain why the Big Chief Roadhouse continues to be one of the few surviving full service restaurants left on the Missouri stretch of Route 66.
Once we wrapped up lunch, we got back on the Mother’s Road prepared to hit or last 5 stops of the trip.