Nolan Stolz is a music professor at the University of South Carolina Upstate. Musically inspired by Route 66, he desired a deeper connection to it – so he took a year-long sabbatical to do some exploring along the Mother Road. Stolz plans to write a musical composition based upon his travels.
Route 66 landmarks in Dwight, IL will be featured in a number of his pieces.
Read all about Stolz’s musical journey on The Paper from Dwight, IL.
From time to time, we’ll share a piece from the magazine here on the website so you can see for yourself the kind of content you can expect in this quality publication. This article is from a decade ago, Spring, 2012. Enjoy!
by John Weiss
It seems that many tourists from around the world do their homework before coming to Route 66 in Illinois. As a result, before they hit the highway, they want to have a real Chicago-style hot dog and a Chicago-style deep dish pizza.
Travelers also are seeking out two other taste treats that are only available in Illinois. One is the Cozy Dog. These travelers all seem to know that you can only get an authentic Cozy at the place that invented the hot dog on a stick. That, of course is the Cozy Dog Drive-In on Route 66 in Springfield, Illinois.
However, travelers are often bewildered about where they can get a Horseshoe Sandwich. There may even be some of you who are not familiar with this Illinois specialty. So I had better provide a little background information on what has become known as, “a heart attack on a plate.”
The Horseshoe sandwich was created in Springfield, Illinois in 1928. It is a very large open-faced sandwich. So large that most restaurants also offer a smaller version called a Pony Shoe. The name is derived from the first meat that was used – ham. When the meat was cut off from around the bone in one piece it will be in a “U” shape, somewhat like a horseshoe. The bread that the meat is placed on is considered the foot. Then it is covered with French fries. The fries are considered the nails.
So you end up with bread, usually Texas Toast (the hoof) with any kind of meat, fish or vegetable (the horseshoe). This is covered with the French fries (the nails). But here comes the most important part – cheese. This whole concoction is covered in cheese sauce. The cheese sauce from each restaurant is usually a location creation. The ingredients are often a very guarded secret
Of course I have had to experience some Horse and Pony Shoe sandwiches at various locations. I won’t make any recommendations. At all locations they offer various meats, fish or vegetables to choose from. One place claimed to have over 50 varieties. Many claimed to sell hundreds of Shoe sandwiches per week. I will mention that the worst Shoe I had was from a vendor at a fairgrounds. At one place it was so good that half way through I was already looking forward to returning for more.
I found Horseshoe Sandwiches in many restaurants located on Route 66 and almost everywhere in Springfield. I also learned that some establishments never heard of them. Some restaurants have gotten creative. They have invented their own breakfast version. Lots of liberties are taken, but the results of the breakfast shoe I tried was wonderful. The one used gravy instead of cheese and a choice of potatoes such as hash browns instead of french fries. They fixed me up with a 50/50 combo so I could try it both ways.
This project of finding the best places for a Horseshoe sandwich cannot be accomplished by me alone. If I did, then my next book would have to be on how to lose weight. So I need your help. I want all who are reading this to go have a Horseshoe or Pony Shoe sandwich somewhere. Then send me your comments (and photo) to Moxie66@sbcglobal.net or to P.O. Boxx 66, Wilmington, IL 60481. I will then add my collection of locations to those that I receive from all of you. We will then print this list. At the end of the year I will award a bathroom style scale to the person who provides me with the most Horseshoe sandwich locations.
Our members-only newsletter, The 66 News is distributed quarterly since its first issue in September, 1989.
From time to time, we’ll share a piece from the magazine here on the website so you can see for yourself the kind of content you can expect in this quality publication. This article is from Summer, 1994. Enjoy!
by Stu Kainste
Editor’s Note – Stu Kainste lives in Springfield where he’s involved in natural preservation activities. He wrote this reminiscence of 66 at the request of his longtime friend, Bob Waldmire.
Ultimately all hitchhikers who thumbed 66 were tourists. We lived and breathed the highway’s contours and curves, slept its embankments, drank its acid coffee. Bleached in its relentless sun, soaked in its ill-timed rains, but mostly stayed partly awake through its long stretched that lead to somewhere. It was 1972. I was 21. I had already hitchhiked some of Europe and probably every road in New York State, visiting friends who were sometimes glad to see me. The Catskill/Adirondack trails were my first introduction to nature. Hitching was my prime escape route out of the projects in Brooklyn. I didn’t drive and I wasn’t sure exactly what a motel was. So when I went west, starting at the George Washington Bridge, I was skilled to the ways of the road. In three days I reached my first stopping place – Springfield, Illinois.
On the way, I met a nice fellow in a convertible who took me through Ohio and Indiana. He was going to Yellowstone. If a vacation had been my goal, I would have accompanied him. But the only thing I was sure of was that I didn’t want to return to Brooklyn and not being a bear, well, Yellowstone wasn’t it. Instead I spent a week in Springfield with a friend, then headed west on Route 66 toward the Grand Canyon.
It was the perfect destination. I was stopped repeatedly in Tulsa in Oklahoma City by the law. When they asked me “Where yer’ going?” the Grand Canyon always got me off. In both towns I waited all night under and beside the four-lane until I was rescued the next morning by kindly citizens.
I remember riding with a hard-nosed guy carrying a truckload of watermelons. He stopped off at a watering hole, came back smashed and still drove through the night. He had me along to help put the tarp on if it rained. It did and we got soaked. He shared some cigarettes with me and put me off at a pine forest under the twin peaks near Flagstaff. I woke up with the dear and hitched to the canyon. It was indeed a perfect destination.
At the canyon I met a guy from Pittsburgh who was, like me, getting ready to hike to the Colorado River. He had a bag of fried chicken and some cigarettes. Fortunately for him I had enough camping gear to keep a small regiment alive, so he survived. Fortunately for me, he was driving a VW, going my way, and got me through the worst of Utah’s dry country.
I left 66 for a sojourn through Utah, Idaho, Oregon and the Sierra Nevadas. On the road I met a wide range of fellow freeloaders – short, tall, black, white, hairy, bald, alone, coupled, etc. You could tell the road tested ones by their nonchalance – if they gave a damn, they weren’t telling. When I hit Route 66 again in Needles, I had become one of them. There was no more, “Hi, my name is Stu and I’m from Brooklyn,” stuff. It was a nod and a grunt and a sunburnt glance up the road.
I almost hopped a train in Needles. I’d spent two days roasting in the desert sun. But a ride came along just before the train left. And adventure not done, but no regrets.
On the way back east, I’ll never forget the mesa outside New Mexico. I spent two days there living on milkshakes, waiting for a ride. It was the only break on the horizon. I’ll also never forget the hitchhiker we picked up while I was riding in a VW van. He had a brown paper bag full of cigarettes. We all had some and when we reached the big sky country outside of Amarillo, we saw the largest rainbow possible.
My last ride was with an ex-P.O.W. who was going home after being away for four years. He hadn’t seen his girlfriend yet. The only other things I remember were his questions, “Is Creedence Clearwater still together?” “What’s with all this long hair?” and “Will I see you at the State Fair?” We turned north on Illinois Route 4, still a fine road, and he dropped me off in Jacksonville, thirty miles from Springfield. I got a ride the rest of the way from two youngsters who were on their way to the fair.
I thought I would winter in Springfield and travel the summers away. Twenty years later, I do my traveling in a station wagon, my home is still Springfield and I only see Route 66 in small doses that mostly link subdivisions or suburban communities.
Route 66 was doomed the way our countryside is doomed, the same way our forests are doomed, the same way our lifestyle is doomed. The earth can’t hold the people, just like the old two lane couldn’t handle the volume. While I was traveling a stretch of Old 66 near Funks Grove recently, the adjacent interstate was full of traffic. The old road couldn’t hold it. This old planet can’t hold it. No problem – we’re only tourists.
This delightful recollection appeared in the Spring 1996 issue of our members-only newsletter, The 66 News. Enjoy a little blast from the past…from the past.
by Kent Sanderson
I entered the world in 1940 in Chicago where the road began. Dad was a seminary student at the University of Chicago at the tine. After he finished, we lived in Michigan for a while, then moved to Dwight, Illinois. Dad was minister of the Congregational Church on Delaware Street. We lived in the parsonage two houses north. It was a huge, two-story home with an attic and a large basement. At the time, Delaware Street was a brick thoroughfare, a WPA project from the ‘30s.
Life in Dwight was grand and provides wonderful memories – the steam locomotives, the billboard that listed the local servicemen and women, the Sip ‘n’ Bite ice cream shop where being “good” was rewarded, the Blackstone Theater where I saw Wizard of Oz for the first time, the barbershop overlooking the railway station, the five and dime, and many more. I saw a lot of Dwight because Dad took me with him whenever he and Mom called upon their parishioners. Sometimes when Dad made these calls alone, Mom and I walked downtown to patronize the local merchants. Usually, however, we just window shopped because money was scarce.
Neighbors on Delaware Street included Mrs Nelson next door, playmates Sandy and Barbara Hillman, Kenny Nevill and Dick Branz. I saw another friend, Buster Jacobsgard frequently because his dad and mine were avid bird hunters who carved wooden decoys wherever they could get together to do so (I still have a few of Dad’s old ducks and can’t believe the detail that went into them).
We’d drive on 66 in our ‘41 Oldsmobile whenever we went to the Jacobsgards or the Branzes. Usually we’d stop for gas at the intersection where Becker’s Marathon is now. There used to be gas stations at all four corners there! When we visited my grandparents in Milton, Illinois, we’d drive Route 66 south. This trip took us through strange-sounding places like Pontiac, Chenoa, Cayuga and Towanda that seemed to a boy as if they were on a different planet. One such trip on a snowy Christmas Day nearly ended in disaster when an old Ford with side curtains pulled across 66 in front of us.
After the war ended in 1945, my parents decided to move back “home.” It was a decision I didn’t understand and one that brought much sadness into my life. I remember pulling away from the big house on Delaware Street in the Olds for our new home in Pittsfield. The neighbors stood on the curb and waved. It was a sad event and for a long time I wondered when we were going back “home” to Dwight.
I grew to love our new home, but never completely forgot about Dwight and Route 66. In 1956 when I was a rebellious teenager, I bought a ‘41 Olds coupe for the princely sum of $200. The car’s only redeeming quality was that it was virtually indestructible. One summer afternoon, for reasons understood only by me, I decided I wanted to see Dwight again and took off in that direction, No map was necessary because the route was indelibly etched in mind, including all the turns required to get through larger towns like Springfield and Bloomington, even though it had been 11 years since I’d made my last trip. I stopped for gas at Dixie Truckers Home. Dwight’s silhouette appeared just before dark and I made a right turn off 66 at the filling station corner. Another right turn by the Catholic Church and another block down at the Congregational Church put me on Delaware Street. I parked in front of Mrs Nielson’s house and spoke with her while she sat on her porch. To my amazement, she recognized me and I was transported back to 1945. Former parishioners Elmer and Mary Bundersen invited me to spend the night and I was thankful. I’m certain nobody understood why I was there alone, even thought I offered some vague explanation about wanting to see Dwight again. My plan to find a job and live there was, no doubt, cause for some concern. I had to rethink this during the night, but still looked around for some kind of work the next morning. Naturally, there was nothing for an unknown kid from out of town. I was secretly grateful.
I got in touch with my friend Dick Branz that afternoon. He was working nights at the Standard station on 66 and asked me to join him during his shift. We filled gas tanks, checked oil levels and washed windshields non-stop until midnight. Dick convinced me it would be a good idea for him to call my dad and let him know I was safe and sound. It was great to hear Dad’s voice and I was struck with a consuming case of homesickness. I spend the night at Dick’s house. The next morning, his mom fixed a breakfast feast. Later, I made one more trip around Dwight to burn it all into my memory. Then I pointed the Olds’ long hood south and drove back home on Route 66.
My wife Mary Sue and I have driven Illinois 66 many times as members of the state association. Each time, I get a feeling of euphoria. We always drive through Dwight, sown Delaware Street, past the old parsonage that I would dearly love to walk thought just once more, and park downtown to stroll the streets that were mine fifty years ago.
I know Thomas Wolfe probably never drove Route 66 – it’s one road that can still take you home!
Our members-only newsletter, The 66 News is distributed quarterly since its first issue in September, 1989.
From time to time, we’ll share a piece from the magazine here on the website so you can see for yourself the kind of content you can expect in this quality publication. This article is from Fall, 2000. Enjoy!
By Dorothy Seratt
While researching the history of the Standard Oil Station in Odell a few years ago, I had the opportunity to interview several people who lived and worked along Route 66 and in adjoining towns along the Route 66 corridor. The following tales were told to me during that research and I will endeavor to remain true to the feelings that were inspired in me upon first hearing these remembrances.
Robert Close was the owner of the gas station when I first put into motion the quest for National Register of Historic Places recognition. In the beginning, Bob was around the station all the time working on cars in the bay area. Even though he had retired several years before, he liked to stay active. He’d go home around one o’clock every day that the Cubs were playing a day game. He couldn’t miss his Cubs. Maybe it was fate that I was wearing a Cubs t-shirt the very first time I approached him about my interest in the gas station. I know we hit it off right away. I explained what I wanted to do and to my surprise he seemed interested.
As time went on, Bob’s health seemed to fail and he wasn’t able to get out to the station any more. At this time, we initiated contact with Bob’s daughter, Lynn Harris. Over time we had some delightful conversations about her childhood and growing up at the gas station. She told me about how she had this “friend” named Oscar, who only she could see. Lynn could remember that Oscar was an old man dressed in a long sleeve shirt, baggy pants with suspenders, and an old slouch hat. She thought then, and still thought that he was a real person because she could actually see him. Her parents thought that Oscar was the product of a little girl’s very vivid imagination. She told me of the various themes she would be sitting on the stairs talking to Occur and she would hear someone coming. She would turn to see who it was and when she turned back, Oscar would be gone. As the years passed, Lynn grew up and moved away from Odell. She said she hadn’t thought about Oscar in a long time, but our discussions were bringing back old memories. Her mother was with us the day we talked about Oscar and said she remembered Lynn’s imaginary friend.
I relegated that story and several others to that part of the brain reserved for interesting, but not pertinent tidbits of information and went about doing the research that was necessary to submit the gas station for the National Register of Historic Places. Through tax records, old newspapers and other sources, I began to put together a history of the property. I discovered that the piece of land could be traced back to the early 1850s. I also remember Bob telling me that he thought he had some type of papers that might help me, so I asked Lynn if she would go through her dad’s things and see if she could find anything that would be of any value to me. Bob was still at home at this time, but not feeling up to looking for anything.
Within a few days I got a small package in the mail from Lynn. It was the papers I needed to complete my research on the history of the station. No one could imagine how thrilled I was to discover how complete the history was and how many hours of work at the county records office it saved me from doing. At the time I did only a cursory examination of the material to satisfy myself that I had struck literary gold with this find. So I was a little surprised to get a call from Lynn a day or two later. She wanted to know if I had a chance to read through the material yet and I told her I had only scanned it. I asked her what was wrong because her voice sounded funny. Remember the story I told you about Oscar, my friend when I was little?” I told her that I recalled it, but wondered what it had to do with the material she sent me. She said that she decided to read her copy of it and was stopped in her tracks when she read the names of the first recorded owner of the property back in 1853. His name was Prosper. She wondered if maybe as a little girl she’d been visited by the spirit of the early owner of the property and when he said his name was Prosper, mistook it for Oscar. To her, it would explain why no one else could see him.
I have to admit that I’m a skeptic, always have been, but that night, hearing the conviction in her voice, I got what is commonly referred to as goose bumps, and I get them every time I think of this and can hear her voice again!
As part of a series on the influential, colorful, historic people, places and things along Illinois Route 66, we present The Riviera and the Streetcar/Diner.
Route 66 Association of Illinois Hall of Fame Classes of 1994 and 2004, respectively
Formerly, Gardner, IL
Here’s the story behind this historic landmark:
The Riviera stood at the wooded junction of Old 66 and the Mazon River, just northeast of Gardner, IL. It was the first true roadhouse inducted into our Hall of Fame. Building it was the longtime dream of Jim Girot. In 1927, just as Route 66 was being paved through the area, he was able to buy the land. Instead of building from scratch, he bought the payroll office from a coal mine in South Wilmington and a former church in Gardner, moved them to the site and put them together. The result was what was known as the Riviera. The establishment catered to those looking for alcohol and gambling during Prohibition. Slot machines and booze were located in the basement, secured behind an iron door to hide in case of a raid.
In 1932, a century old horse drawn Streetcar/Diner was added to the backyard of the property. A zoo and gas station were also added to the Riviera’s complex. An early restoration project of our association took on a restoration of the streetcar/diner.
Jim, his wife Rose and their children Irene, Violet, Larry and Lillian moved there in 1928. Members of the family would live there and operated the restaurant until it was sold to Bob and Peggy Kraft in 1973.
Bob and Peggy were transplants from Chicago. They’d owned two taverns up north and took over the Riviera as a “retirement” job. They continued serving up the Riviera’s long-time menu of steaks, chops and spaghetti. The Krafts didn’t change much else at the Riviera either. In the tradition of German rathskellers, the main restaurant was in the basement. The dumbwaiter between the restaurant and the kitchen upstairs remained a WWI artillery shell. The payroll office safe was used as a cooler. The Krafts operated the Riviera until retiring for real in 2008.
After reopening briefly in 2009-2010, the Riviera closed and its future remained unsettled. Sadly, on June 8, 2010, the Riviera was lost to fire. In 2019, the former location of the Riviera Roadhouse is marked with a simple sign that highlights this once great Route 66 roadie stop.
Click to read stories about the ever-growing list of Hall of Fame inductees.
Our members-only newsletter, The 66 News is distributed quarterly since its first issue in September, 1989.
From time to time, we’ll share a piece from the magazine here on the website so you can see for yourself the kind of content you can expect in this quality publication. This article is from a relatively recent issue, Summer, 2013. Enjoy!
by Marcia Gascho
As veterans of many long and short Route 66 trips, my husband Bruce and I have found a number of great places to eat along the way. We often find ourselves planning our itinerary and overnight stays based on where we want to eat lunch or dinner. We try to avoid the chain places and find local mom-and-pop or well-known spots. The major exception is breakfast. Many motels offer breakfasts and we take advantage of them At the Best Western in Shamrock, Texas, we enjoyed Texas-shaped waffles! When we stay in places like the Blue Swallow in Tucumcari, we usually eat at local restaurants for breakfast.
On our most recent trip to Arizona, we stopped at many fine dining places. We are big fans of Korean food and have discovered Cafe Korea outside Ft Leonard Wood, Missouri. They have great food, a friendly staff and very reasonable prices. I requested extra squid in my Soon DuBu soup and it was delicious. We got an order of mandoo (dumplings) to go that we happily snacked on during the trip. The place is always crowded with civilians and military personnel from the Fort.
We are hoping 4 Women on the Route (new name of Cars on the Route) in Kansas will serve food again when it re-opens. In Oklahoma, we always enjoy selecting some sodas at POPS and having a meal there. It’s an interesting place! We tried out Lucilles this year in Weatherford. They have a cool diner section as well a a more traditional restaurant area. The front of the building recreates the look of Lucilles old gas station in Hydro.
It is fortunate that La Posada in Winslow, Arizona, was saved from the wrecking ball. If you want elegant dining in a beautiful historic, location, The Turquoise Room there can’t be beat. It’s expensive but worth it. We’ve stopped at the Snow Cap in Seligman many times. We got to meet the late Juan Delgadillo and were the victims of his many practical jokes: small Coke, trick mustard bottle, used straws and napkins, etc. Just walking inside to order a meal like Dead Chicken is an experience. The walls and ceiling are covered with business cards from all over the world. When trying to leave, you are confronted with a door with two doorknobs. Many bus tours stop by there.
It is fortunate that La Posada in Winslow, Arizona, was saved from the wrecking ball. If you want elegant dining in a beautiful historic, location, The Turquoise Room there can’t be beat. It’s expensive but worth it. We’ve stopped at the Snow Cap in Seligman many times. We got to meet the late Juan Delgadillo and were the victims of his many practical jokes: small Coke, trick mustard bottle, used straws and napkins, etc. Just walking inside to order a meal like Dead Chicken is an experience. The walls and ceiling are covered with business cards from all over the world. When trying to leave, you are confronted with a door with two doorknobs. Many bus tours stop by there.
In Illinois, no Route 66 trip is complete without a stop at the Cozy Dog Drive In and/or the Polka Dot. Both places have a great vintage feel to them. This year we finally had a chance to eat at the famous Ariston restaurant before heading home.
We love our annual trips on the Mother Road. It’s great to see old and new places and to anticipate the wonderful food along the way.
The following are some of our favorite places we’ve discovered over the years. We like to visit them again and again on our trips.
Illinois
Polk-a-Dot – Braidwood
Cozy Dog Drive-In – Springfield
Ariston – Litchfield (since closed)
Log Cabin – Pontiac
Palms Grill – Atlanta
Missouri
Ted Drewes – St Louis
Missouri Hicks BBQ – Cuba
Cafe Korea – St Robert
Kansas
Grill a 4 Women on the Route – Galena
Oklahoma
POPS – Arcadia
Lucilles – Weatherford
Texas
Big Verns – Shamrock
Big Texan – Amarillo
Midpoint Cafe – Adrian
New Mexico
Pow Wow – Tucumcari
Kix on 66 – Tucumcari
Route 66 Diner – Albuquerque
El Rancho Hotel – Gallup
Arizona
Turquoise Room La Posada – Winslow
Snow Cap – Seligman
Read our ever-growing collection of From The 66 News archives.
Our members-only newsletter, The 66 News is distributed quarterly since the first issue in September, 1989.
We thought you’d like to see what Issue #1 included. It’s a nostalgic example of our humble, “In the Beginning” time.
The cover had a story about the planning of our very first meeting as an association.
It read:
by Tom Teague
Our statewide organization meeting is slated for Noon, Sunday October 8 at the VFW Hall on Old 66 in Dwight. This is an important meeting for all members and 66 fans to attend because we will approve bylaws, elect officers and a board of directors, and make some plans for what we’d like to do next year.
Here are some possible feats for us to accomplish in the next 12 Months:
This is a pretty ambitious agenda, but we can do it. Route 66 proved time and time again that people, if given the chance, could succeed by dent of their own efforts. Let’s prove that onemore time for the highway itself.
All this means work, of course. So if you’re interested at all in helping to get it done, please come to the October 8 meeting prepared to volunteer for something. We’ll need candidates for each office, plus a board member from each county along the way, plus a newsletter editor, plus people to serve on various committees. Anyone who wants to volunteer in advance should call me a t 217-787-8839 or write to me at 1206 W Edwards, Springfield, IL 62704.
The bylaws are included as an insert in each member’s copy of this newsletter please read them carefully so we can expedite their approval at the meeting.
Read our ever-growing collection of From The 66 News archives.