Travel on the Gravel

Still on Highway 281 here, the Texas segment, and finding all sorts of wonders at roadside. A year or two ago we were passing through Mineral Wells and spent some time looking over the old Baker Hotel, built in 1929 and intended to serve health-seekers come to take the waters. Standing 14 stories tall, it's an amazing sight in a prairie town, and it's for sale! This time we made a stop at the Famous Mineral Water Company, which, although it no longer attracts health-seekers to stay on site, still distributes its Crazy Water through regional outlets. Down the road a little farther we came to Jacksboro, the town that serves as jumping-off point in the old ballad, "The Buffalo Skinners." Here we found a delightful and nondescript little drive-in called "Dairyland." Impressive chicken fried steak, Tex-Mex offerings, cobblers, and onion rings that were darned near perfect.

Again this year I have a few groundcherries in my garden, and I like them, but at the same time, I'm disappointed. I get my plants from Neil at Sheyenne Gardens. They grow well, but the groundcherries, like any others I see, grow only the size of marbles. On the other hand, I've heard tales from many old-timers of groundcherries growing much larger. I just re-read a note I got ten years ago from George Dike, an extension veteran retired in Michigan, who grew up in Walsh County, North Dakota. He writes, "Our farm neighbors in Walsh County 70 years ago raised ground cherries as big as golf balls. They tasted great right out of hand, in pies, or as preserves." George, however, expresses the same frustration as I do about the small varieties available today. So, are we missing something? Are these giant groundcherries of the past just figments of wishful memory? If they were real, are they now gone forever? Or, is there a garden somewhere with groundcherries in it that would satisfy the longing expressed by George and me?

Driving Highway 281 through central Texas we spotted a remarkable memorial in Windthorst. Alongside St. Mary's Catholic Church, founded by German colonists in the 1890s, stands a grotto containing a statue of the Blessed Virgin referred to by some as Our Lady of 281. The rationale behind the grotto, however, is indicated by the plaque affixed to it; the legend indicates that of fifty-nine men from the parish who served in the Second World War, every one returned home safely--ample cause for thanks and praise. The grotto itself is wonderfully camp, with faux-stalactites hanging from the stone ceiling. On one side of the red-brick church is a statue of St. Isidore, patron of farmers, and on the other side is a monumental rosary of rocks and relics laid out on the ground. Highway 281, I keep saying, the Great Plains highway, is loaded with neat stuff.

While visiting the Metcalfe Museum, and checking out the ghost town of Hamburg, we spent a little time in Cheyenne, Oklahoma. Here's a tip: great Mexican food at Las Casuelas, which occupies an old church building. No beer, but plenty of ice tea. Cheyenne is a town that feels like it may be discovered. Right now the pick-up in economic activity is due to the oil patch, but in time people are going to connect up the attractions in the area--the Metcalfe Museum, lots of public land in the Black Kettle National Grassland, good fishing in watershed lakes, and, coming on as the signature attraction, the Washita battlefield. Since the National Park Service took it over, there has been some big-time construction going on, which will establish a substantial interpretive center. Given here is a view of the construction in progress.

We made a visit to the Augusta Metcalfe Museum, in Roger Mills County, Oklahoma (smack up against the Texas Panhandle), attending an exhibit opening and doing a little research in the museum's collections. That was lovely, and then we went looking for site of one of memory artist Metcalfe's most interesting paintings--her depiction of the ghost town of Hamburg, featuring the Blue Goose Saloon, along the Washita River. Lynn Deal, curator of the Metcalfe Museum, was kind enough to show us the way to the site. Tramping around there was a pleasure, not only for the history of the place but also for its beauty. This year's generous rains, following last year's severe drought, had produced a fantastic efflorescence of wildflowers, especially gaillardia. Not much remains of Hamburg, once a thriving settler community, but we stumbled across two remarkable artifacts. These were cisterns, dug into the ground, laid up with red rock, and finished inside with concrete. They were large and bell-shaped underground, with only a three-foot-diameter hole opening to the surface. Cisterns, and not wells--that gives you a pretty good idea why the townsite was not viable in the long run.

Here's an image with so many historical threads in it, they have to be tangled up, and I think the knot in the center must be Jeanette Robb-Ruenz. That's her holding the new Ellendale history book, published in celebration of the 125th anniversary of the town. She's standing next to one of the quartzite posts that marked the border between North Dakota and South Dakota. Behind her is the Ellendale Opera House, for which she has played the lead role in restoration. Of course, Jeanette plays the lead role in lots of things in Ellendale, such as the compilation of that big blue community history. Congratulations, Jeanette, and Ellendale, too.

On a recent junket to Texas and Oklahoma, we made a stop at the Cozy Inn in Salina, Kansas. This is a place where they still do burgers the way they did at White Castle and other such joints in the 1920s--smashed out on a greasy grill, smothered in onions. The Cozy is particularly well-known for its aromatic persistence, which is to say, have lunch at the counter and you can enjoy it all day. We found the place under new and competent management. Coming soon to the Oases of the American Desert pages of Plains Folk: new images, video, and sound from the Cozy. For now, here's a snap of a grill of burgers in progress.