Day 54 -- Tuesday, June 23

The road through Kansas is by far the shortest stretch of 66 in any of the eight states through which the old road travels, only 13.2 miles. There are, however, some choice attractions.

As one leaves Joplin, the last 66 town in Missouri, and nears the Kansas state line, one comes across a sign that says simply "Old Route 66 -- Next Right." That right turn leads one down a stretch of the old, old road that winds through the hills of this mining country into the tiny town of Galena, Kansas. Rejoining the newer alignment of 66 after driving through Galena's quiet little downtown, one next comes upon Riverton, home of the Elsner Brothers General Store. For decades, this little store has been serving 66 travelers; nowadays they feature a wide selection of Route 66 souvenirs.

The third and final 66 hamlet in Kansas is Baxter Springs, a 19th-century resort town, site of some bloody union disputes early in this century and, as the billboards that greet travelers entering the town proudly proclaim, the First Cowtown in Kansas. Bill Miller's Restaurant in the downtown section of town is housed in a building that formerly housed a bank once robbed by Jesse James. The story goes that James and a man named Cole entered the Baxter Springs Bank one spring day in 1876, made an unauthorized withdrawal and left with $2,900, fleeing south into Oklahoma Territory. A posse followed, but Jesse and Cole managed to disarm them and send them back north. Not a single shot was fired during the entire episode and no one was injured.

Just off 66, in Kiwanis Park on the outskirts of town, is a softball field that is bordered, well beyond the outfield fences, by a tree-lined river. Those fences were not always so shallow, though. This was formerly a baseball field, the home of the Baxter Springs Whiz Kids. In the late '40s, a young man from Commerce, Oklahoma, a few miles south on 66, made the trip north to play for the Whiz Kids. He hit home runs in bunches, sending baseballs over the trees and into that river beyond those outfield fences. Soon enough, the word spread about the young man's feats on the baseball field and a scout for the New York Yankees came to see what all the fuss was about. He got a good look at the young man and was soon offering Mickey Mantle a ticket to the Big Apple and the House that Ruth Built. You probably know the rest of the story.

Crossing over into the Sooner State, I motored through Commerce, Mickey's home town, where they are attempting to raise enough money to commission a statue of the Mick. Next was Miami, home of the beautiful, if sporadically used, Coleman Theatre. North of Afton is The Buffalo Ranch, a vintage tourist stop that's still going strong. A bit further south but still just north of town is a stretch of road, built in the '20s, that is only nine feet wide. It seems that the planners intended to build a road that was the then-normal width of 18 feet, but they were told that only half the necessary funding was available. Rather than build the road only half the distance, they opted to build it half as wide the entire planned length. As you might guess, it is not a widely traveled stretch of road but it can be navigated with care. Locals should be able to direct you if you'd like to motor along this odd little road a bit.

Just shy of Foyil, Oklahoma is the junction of Route 66 and State Highway 28A. Take 28A south for three or four miles and you'll encounter an odd little roadside attraction, the World's Largest Totem Pole. Created by folk artist Ed Galloway from 1940 through 1963, the totem pole is a must-see. It stands 90 feet tall and is surrounded by smaller poles, picnic tables and an unoccupied visitor's center, all created by Galloway and covered with a vast array of symbols and icons, ranging from an Indian chief to a lobster (a lobster?). The entire complex has recently been re-painted in vivid colors, although the top half of the main attraction still awaits some attention. It's an odd feeling to come across this grouping of statues, quite literally out in the middle of nowhere. There's nothing else around. No road signs lead travelers here; no bored guides reciting by rote will inform you of the pole's history. This is a do-it-yourself tourist attraction: find it on your own, take a self-guided tour of the grounds, write your own version of its history and take some snapshot-postcards for sending later. You'll find none for sale here. Don't miss it!

I stopped for a whirlwind tour of the Will Rogers Memorial in Claremore. It was after hours but the man in charge, Joe Carter, is an acquaintance of mine and a nice guy, to boot, so he let me take a quick stroll through the facilities. I had visited once before, as a young child accompanying my grandmother, but I remembered little from that visit. I wish I'd had more time to spend this time through; the Memorial is really quite a place. Located on the land where Rogers had planned to build a home, it contains many of Rogers' personal effects, memorabilia from his career and a vast research library, all housed in a stately building and surrounded by beautiful grounds.

Just before reaching Tulsa, I stopped to wave at the old Blue Whale in Catoosa. She sits in an algae-filled pond, surrounded by rotting wooden structures and No Trespassing, Keep Out signs. Not so long ago, though, this was a thriving roadside attraction, a swimming hole with an alligator ranch and a reptile house. So, if you pass by, stop and pay your respects from the shoulder of the old road. That old whale deserves a better fate.

In Tulsa, I got to spend a little time with my sister Kim, her husband Alan, and my beautiful, brilliant, and multi-talented niece, Amanda, who is nearly three. I also hooked up with my old friend, Dr. Mary Kirk and her friend (and mine) Dr. Melanie Russell. Mary and I have known each other since high school and got to spend a fair amount of time together in New York, where she did her medical residency. It's been a year, though, since she returned to Oklahoma to practice and I was glad to have the opportunity to see her. We even took in a Steppenwolf show at a local watering hole. This was my favorite band in junior high. The first concert I ever attended was a Steppenwolf show, when I was in seventh grade. Now, it's not really Steppenwolf; they might more accurately be called John Kay and Some Guys. But Kay, the lead singer, was always the key member, the heart of the group; it was good to see him perform. He looked and sounded great; it was fun. A bit of a come-down for him to be playing bars but the crowd went nuts so..



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