Ghost Towns of Route 66 (5 page)
Read Ghost Towns of Route 66 Online
Authors: Jim Hinckley
Gary Turner's re-creation of Gay Parita Garage and Sinclair station in Paris Springs Junction shows remarkable attention to detail.
From flood plain to resort, from small-town America to symbol of environmental degradation, from toxic site to state park, the site of Times Beach epitomizes the ever-changing face of Route 66.
I
N THE
S
HOW
-M
E
S
TATE
,
much of Route 66 follows the old Wire Road, a vital communications and transportation road that was at center stage in some of the bloodiest fighting of the Civil War. Many of the weathered headstones and monuments in shade-dappled cemeteries perched on ridges above the old road stand in silent testimony to these dark times.
In stark contrast is the colorful glow of neon, refurbished or remembered, that sheaths many towns along the double six in Missouri. This garish façade harks back to the glory days of Route 66.
Not all ghost towns in the shadow of the Ozark Mountains are tinged dark by the tumult of the Civil War, nor are they all memorialized with neon monuments. At least one began with the promise of good times before becoming a victim of the modern industrial era and environmental degradation.
GHOST OF THE MODERN ERA: TIMES BEACH
I
N AN ODD TWIST OF FATE
,
the idyllic Route 66 State Park on the Meramec River mirrors the vision of those who established a small resort community on this site seventeen miles west of St. Louis in 1925. It also masks the tragedy that claimed the community of Times Beach.
After acquiring a 480-acre site on a flood plain utilized for farming, the owners of the
St. Louis Star Times
initiated an unusual promotional campaign to increase the newspaper's circulation. For $67.50, a customer could purchase a 20x100-foot lot and receive a six-month subscription to the newspaper. There was a slight catch: to utilize the property and build a house required the purchase of a second adjoining lot.
Since this was largely a summer resort, and the area was prone to flooding, stilts were foundational elements of the cottages built. By 1930, residents were building more substantial homes, a reflection of the move from resort to community. This and a growing business district gave the town an atmosphere of stability.
The shift from resort to town marked a new chapter in the history of Times Beach. The next chapter began with World War II, gas rationing, and the postwar housing shortage that again transformed the character of “The Beach,” as residents called it.
By 1970, some 1,240 people called Times Beach home, and the town was slowly moving beyond its postwar image as a low-income community of mobile homes and cracker-box houses.
The most notable manifestation of this change was the decision to address the town's 16.3 miles of dusty, unpaved streets. With a budget insufficient to meet the projected cost of paving, city administrators instead turned to oiling the roads to control the dust. Contracted for this endeavor was Russell Bliss, owner of a small company that hauled waste oils and other materials.
What city management did not know was that Bliss was also hauling waste for the Northeastern Pharmaceutical and Chemical Company of Verona, Missouri, a major producer of Agent Orange during the Vietnam War. As a result, for several years, Bliss sprayed the streets of Times Beach with material laden with deadly dioxins.
In the fall of 1982, an investigative reporter turned his attention to Times Beach after establishing a link between Russell Bliss and the death of dozens of horses at stables he had sprayed with waste oil. This investigation was quickly followed by one initiated by the Environmental Protection Agency.
On December 5 of that year, the worst flooding in the town's history forced an almost complete evacuation. Eighteen days later, the EPA notified residents and the community's administration, “If you are in town it is advisable for you to leave and if you are out of town do not return.”
In an instant, the obscure little community of Times Beach dominated international headlines and became synonymous with deadly environmental degradation, the bane of the modern era. By 1985, the mandatory evacuation was complete, negotiated buyouts were underway, and the town site was quarantined.
In 1996 and 1997, the final chapter in Times Beach history began to unfold.
The banner headlines proclaiming the opening of Times Beach marked the beginning of one of the most unusual promotional campaigns in newspaper history.
Missouri Department of Transportation
An incinerator built on the site at a cost of $110 million burned 265,000 tons of contaminated soil and materials. Upon completion of the project and certification that the site was clean, the property reverted to the state of Missouri, which, in turn, reopened it as Route 66 State Park in 1999.
There are but two remnants of the little town on the banks of the Meramec River: one a monument to Times Beach, the other to Route 66. Steiny's Inn, a 1935 roadhouse, now serves as the park's visitor center, and a beautiful steel truss bridge, closed in 2009, stands in mute testimony to the forgotten town's ties to legendary Route 66.
Route 66 State Park, on the former site of Times Beach, is now a haven for wildlife, waterfowl, and those seeking a respite from the rush of the modern era.
These plans may soon be all that remains of Times Beach's Meramec River Bridge, closed in 2009.
Missouri Department of Transportation
Route 66 State Park, the site of Times Beach, is accessed from exit 266 on Interstate 44 east of Eureka.
THE GHOST TOWN TRAIL OF MISSOURI
O
N THE SECTION OF OLD
U.S. 66
between Springfield and Carthage, only the traffic keeps you anchored to the modern era. Here, the line between past and present is blurred. The ghost towns, ruins, and vintage bridges that frame timeless, bucolic scenes enhance the illusion that it is possible to step back in time.
The first hint that this drive will be special is the shade-dappled Yeakley Cemetery, established in 1852. Still used for services is the chapel that dates to 1887.
Plano, a few miles west, may have once been a prosperous little farming community or even a bustling service center meeting the needs of Route 66 travelers, but today only two hints of better times remain. One is the overgrown stone ruins that were once a mortuary and casket factory; the other is the former service station and garage that now serve as a residence.
If a town's post office illustrates its life-line, the glory days in Plano were short. The post office opened its doors in 1895 and closed them in 1903.
The next stop is Halltown, home of the White Hall antique store housed in the former Whitehall Mercantile, which has cast its false-fronted shadow across the road for more than a century. In 1926, the year Route 66 debuted on the world stage, Halltown supported almost two dozen businesses, including the mercantile, several grocery stores, a blacksmith shop, and a drugstore.
As of the spring of 2010, the future of White Hall Antiques is unknown; the proprietor who opened the store in 1985 and co-founded the Route 66 Association of Missouri in 1990, Thelma White, passed away at the age of eighty-three.
The river of traffic that flowed east and west on Route 66 transformed towns all along the route by igniting the creative, entrepreneurial spirit of the common man. In Halltown after 1930, weary travelers could find rest at the Las Vegas Hotel. The name may have seemed out of place to those passing through, but locals knew that proprietor Charlie Dammer paid for the construction with silver dollars won in a lucky streak in Las Vegas, Nevada.
On his 1946 odyssey, Jack Rittenhouse notes that Halltown, population 168, consisted of “15 or 20 establishments that line
both sides of the highway here: gas stations, cafes, antique shops, stores.” Today, traffic still flows through town on State Highway 266 but not in volume enough to support the businesses noted by Rittenhouse. Even with the resurgent interest in Route 66, Halltown slumbers.
The overgrown ruins of a former casket company are among the last remnants of Plano.