After traveling to Fayetteville, Tennessee, to pay our respects to sister-in-law Kathy's father, we headed west toward Charlotte, where Grandma had plans for celebrating her son's birthday.  Chattanooga was a good midway point for an overnight.  

Cherokee Chieftan by Peter Toth

Nancy Ward grave site

Our mission accomplished, we drove into Arkansas on US-63, a highway we would follow as we swept across the state's northeast corner, winding our way back toward Georgia.  Since we had radically shortened our Arkansas itinerary, all we were hoping for was a spot to hide our Arkansas letterbox in this two-hour leap from Missouri to Memphis.  We found a lot more.
   

The Ravenden Raven, v. 3

Near the Missouri border, a large bird near the roadside caught our attention.  When the town of Ravenden (pop. 511) was established along the Spring River in 1883, the founders named their hamlet Ravenden Junction (later the junction was dropped).  No one is certain why that name was selected, especially since the state of Arkansas is not in the natural range of any raven.  (Nor do ravens live in any of the cities Edgar Allan Poe inhabited, for that matter.)  However, we did see one raven in Ravenden today—the town's 12-ft mascot, though there is some justification for identifying this fellow as a phoenix.  First erected in 1991 by the town's volunteer fire department, the initial big bird was constructed of fiberglass, a material which the town learned five years later would burn.  After the first raven was torched by vandals, its fiberglass replacement met a similar fate within two weeks.  "Nevermore!" said Ravenden's leaders, and the third and current bird, built with stucco and cement and coated with fire retardant paint, has guarded over the town for 16 years.
   
Fifteen miles south of Ravenden, we arrived in Powhatan (pop. 50) on the Black River, home of Powhatan Historic State Park, a potential location for our letterbox hide.  A thriving riverport in the late 1800s, the town dwindled as it was bypassed by the railroad and roads overtook river passage as the preferred transportation for the populace.  The county seat moved to nearby Walnut Ridge in 1962, but the state park preserves and interprets the old Powhatan courthouse and a few other 19th century structures, one of which now shelters a letterbox.
      
Like the county government, we moved on down the road to Walnut Ridge (pop. 4,925), a town we expected to breeze through on our way south.  As we drove through town on US-63, we noticed lots of local businesses had their windows decorated with images related to the sixties and the Beatles.  When we stopped to take photos of the decorations, we found ourselves in front of a shop called Imagine.  Was it just a coincidence?
   

Carrie Mae Snapp's Imagine gallery

Of course, we couldn't leave Walnut Ridge without learning more.  The Imagine gallery seemed like a good place to start, so we entered and asked, "What's up with all the Beatles decorations?"  As we were soon to learn, we had chanced upon the epicenter of the town's Beatlemania.  Shop owner and retired art teacher Carrie Mae Snapp, a gregarious town native, spent the next fifteen minutes regaling us with the story of the 1964 incident that sparked the current British fever.  She should know; she was there.
 space 

Carrie Mae Snapp

On a fateful Friday night in September, 1964, Carrie's teenage neighbor and a couple of friends were at the local town hangout when they heard a large airplane circling the old World War II training field after midnight.  Concerned that the aircraft might be experiencing difficulty, the boys went to the airfield where they spied the private jet that had just landed.  Much to their surprise, the passengers who exited the plane and headed for a small aircraft were the Beatles, who had just played in Dallas near the end of their first American tour.  After a grueling three weeks of performances, the musicians planned to rest up at a nearby Missouri ranch before ending their tour in New York.

As it will, word spread fast in the small town and by the time the Beatles returned to Walnut Ridge's small airport on Sunday morning to board the charter, a crowd of 300, including Carrie Mae, was waiting to greet them.  Carrie gave us all the details of how she had touched George Harrison's arm and her father snapped photos of the Fab Four with his Brownie camera.  
    

The Fab Four's brief stop in 1964 had a lasting effect on Walnut Ridge.

Although the famous musicians from Liverpool probably never gave another thought to this momentary stopover in the course of their blockbuster career, the encounter meant much more to the community.  Indelible memories of this providential event have remained an important part of Walnut Ridge history.  Last year, Carrie's brother Charles, a member of the local tourism committee,  spearheaded the very successful first annual 'Beatles at the Ridge' festival on the anniversary of the Beatles' stopover, complete with craft vendors, local talent, a beauty pageant and live music, headlined by Liverpool Legends, a Beatles impersonator band managed by George Harrison's sister.
   

Beatles tribute sculpture

But no.  All I found there was more stunningly beautiful architecture and decor and Ken walking around marveling about the building.  After we wandered through the halls for a while, taking photographs and locating restrooms, we stumbled upon a charming woman named Helen walking through the lobby with a small pot of coffee.
     

Legislative assistant to a Missouri state representative from the Kansas City area, Helen has worked at the capitol for 13 years.  When we told her how impressed we were with the openness of the capitol building, she explained that just after the 9/11 tragedies, Missouri had installed strict security for about a year.  Then everyone tired of it and decided they didn't need it.
     
Wow!  It was like a breath of fresh air rushing into a landfill.  We were experiencing America as it used to be in the pre-2001 days of trust and innocence.  It was wonderful.  What a contrast to our visit to the U.S. Capitol in April, when we were put through three separate security screenings and then asked to put all our belongings into a locker before proceeding inside.  
     

Helen was a delightful ambassador for the state and the capitol building.  She insisted that we see the marvelous Thomas Hart Benton murals in the House reception room and visit the House chamber.  She even invited us to step up to the Speaker's podium for a photo op if we wanted.  In addition to her genuine hospitality, Helen was extremely knowledgeable about the capitol and its history, as was the assistant House clerk who asked if we were in town for the Mizzou/UGA game in Columbia on Saturday, Missouri's first foray into the SEC.  (We were not.)
     

By the time we left Helen, we had been given an impromptu 30-minute personal tour of the Missouri capitol and experienced a great reminder of America as it used to be.  Unfortunately for Helen, her coffee by then was stone cold, but she assured us she was happy to reheat it.  We spent a few minutes checking out the excellent Missouri history museum in the building before departing.  Even there, the atmosphere of trust was pervasive.  Rather than having exhibits all behind glass, there were items that visitors could pick up and examine.  Welcome to the old America.
     
Continuing our drive south from Jefferson City, we began to notice the beginnings of the Ozarks as we left the flatlands behind.  Limestone strata lined the roadside where hills had been bisected for the highway.  After stopping for a picnic lunch at a scenic overlook, we consulted the weather radar and decided to continue south on the more direct route of US-63, rather than taking the scenic route down MO-19.  A large storm system was headed our way, which we figured would effectively block our views of the scenic spots.
     

By 3:00, the storm caught up with us just as we arrived in the little town of Houston.  A strong wind buffeted the car as lightning flashed and the rain pelted down.  Radar indicated we were close to the edge of the storm and it was moving pretty fast, so we decided to stop and wait it out in the local McDonald's parking lot.  Within half an hour, the storm had pretty much passed over.  Skies no longer looked dark and foreboding, so we continued on down to West Plains, where we searched for a couple of letterboxes and a place to plant our Missouri box before calling it a day as another storm system threatened.

     

THURSAY, 6 SEPTEMBER 2012

MISSOURI STATS

• Population:  6,010,688 (18th)
• Land area:  69,704 sq. mi.  (21st largest)
• Highest point:  Taum Sauk Mountain - 1,772 ft.
• Nickname:  The Show Me State
• Statehood:  1821 (#24)
• Capital:  Jefferson City
• Largest city:  Kansas City
• Nickname:  Show Me State
• Famous natives:  Mark Twain, Harry S. Truman, Chuck Berry, Yogi Berra, George Washington Carver, Walter Cronkite, J.C. Penney, Dick Van Dyke, Rush Limbaugh, Eugene Field
• Claims to fame:
• bordered by eight other states
• starting point for Oregon Trail and Pony Express
• top lead producing state
• only state with 2 Federal Reserve Banks (Kansas City & St. Louis)
• hosted first Olympic games in the United States, 1904

Missouri's House of Representatives chamber

Statue of Jefferson City's eponym

Detail on the capitol portico

     

Moses Bloom

Letterboxing has frequently taught us interesting lessons and taken us to fascinating spots.  Today was no exception.  Our first stop in Iowa City (pop, 68,947) this morning was at the local Jewish Cemetery.  In the clue for a letterbox planted just outside the cemetery, the letterbox planter provided some fascinating information about the history of the local Jewish community.  German Jews were the first to arrive in Iowa City in the 1850s.  They built a life in the town and started a synagogue and a cemetery.  These early Jews believed in assimilating with the greater community and followed the more liberal Reform interpretation of the religion.  In 1873, Moses Bloom was elected the first Jewish mayor of a major U.S. city.

In the 1910s, a wave of Russian Jewish immigrants arrived in Iowa City, bringing with them their stricter Orthodox version of the religion and a more separatist approach to living within the Iowa City community.  The two groups proved to be incompatible, and by 1921, most of the first wave of German Jewish families had moved from Iowa City.  As they departed, they sold the cemetery, disinterring their relatives and taking them along.  Later the Russian Jewish community bought the cemetery back, and it is still in use today.
   
  

Stones of remembrance

The custom of leaving pebbles on gravestones was also discussed in the clue.  Placing small rocks on headstones is a common Jewish mourning tradition, though the origins of this ritual are uncertain.  It likely evolved from the practice of placing rocks to mark the place of a burial before the days of marble headstones, but it continues for important reasons.  Stones provide a more lasting symbol of a visit to a deceased loved one than flowers.  The stones serve as a reminder that others have visited the grave and value the memory of the person who is buried there.
     
The next letterbox we were searching for in Iowa City commemorated a terrible tornado that ripped through the city in 2006, demolishing buildings, flipping cars and toppling trees.  The box was created in memory of that violent night and hidden in a local neighborhood park.  After reading about the horrifying events of that April evening, we exited the car to go look for the box.  As we left the car to enter the little park, an emergency warning siren sounded.  We both looked up to find a perfectly blue sky, though a strong storm had blown through the previous evening.  Shrugging as the sound ceased, we continued toward the letterbox only to have the siren sound again.  Finally we checked our Emergency Radio app, which tapped into the local police and fire scanner and let us know there was only routine chatter and no community emergency in progress.  Later when we learned it was a routine, first Wednesday of the month test, it still seemed a little eerie that it happened at that exact moment when we were going to look for the tornado-related letterbox.
     

It seemed fitting that our next stop, also in search of a letterbox, was at Iowa City's Oakland Cemetery, which has served as the city's primary burial ground since 1843.  The graveyard's most famous marker is the 8.5-foot tall Black Angel, or Angel of Death.  Erected in 1913 by a Slovakian immigrant as a tribute to her beloved young son, the bronze statue has oxidized over time to give it a black appearance and a mysterious aura.  Both visitors and locals are drawn to the statue, particularly on Halloween, when braver souls test the legend that only virginity can protect from certain death anyone who touches or kisses the angel.
     

At that point, we were too spooked to test the myth and moved on to the town's Riverside Park on the Iowa River. There our luck took a turn for the better.  Not only did we easily locate a letterbox hidden near the local Shakespeare theater, we met a new friend.  Through an odd bit of restroom confusion, we met Byford, a local woman who was walking in the park.  A nurse retired from the University of Iowa, she spends her winters at Hilton Head and expressed her frustration with driving through the crazy Atlanta traffic on her way to the beach each year.  Easily identifying with her annoyance, we suggested an alternate route that would take her through Asheville and Columbia instead of Atlanta.  We chatted for a half hour or so before parting ways.
     

You don't need to be a Star Trek fan to appreciate the chance to see into the future.

Having boxed out Iowa City, it was time to head south since we were due to arrive in Missouri this evening.  Along the way, we stopped for one more Iowa letterbox in the hamlet of Riverside (pop. 999).  This one honored the fictional Star Trek character of Captain Kirk of the Starship Enterprise.  Apparently in Star Trek lore, Captain Kirk was/will be born in the town of Riverside, Iowa on March 22, 2228. Capitalizing on this claim to fame, the town erected a plaque behind a former barbershop and holds an annual celebration of Kirk's birthday.  A starship "Riverside" is on display near the town museum.
     
As we traveled south, time was running out and so was Iowa but we still had a letterbox to plant before we left the state.  About three miles north of the Missouri border, we chanced upon a perfect little home for our letterbox.  It even has a nice view of a pond.

Built of recycled scrap metal in 2004 by local citizens to promote the town's semi-annual Cowboy Breakfast, a fundraising project for the local community center, the pan has become a symbol of the town. When they decided to build the pan, it didn't occur to the citizens to determine whether there were other similar pans elsewhere.  Later when they discovered that a pan in the state of Washington was a measly three inches larger, the Brandon pan was dubbed "Iowa's Largest Frying Pan."  To date, no one has disputed this claim.
     
At the public library in the town of Hiawatha (pop. 7,113) a bit further south, we found a very clever letterbox on the library shelf.  We suspected an 'inside job' because the 'box' was not only shelved among the other books, it had a bar code and was listed in the library's catalog.
     

Very clever and well-executed library letterbox

Other branch libraries in this system had similar boxes, though we had time for only this one.  (We apologize to anyone finds these photos to be spoilers.)
    
In the afternoon, we finally made it to West Branch (pop. 2,310) and the Herbert Hoover National Historic Site.  Given Hoover's place in U.S. history and the perpetually dismal ratings of his presidency, we expected a modest preservation or recreation of his birthplace.  What we found instead was 187 acres of "commemorative landscape" including 31 meticulously maintained historic structures, a half mile of boardwalks and a quarter mile of white picket fences to keep painted and in good repair.
     

Best remembered for his disastrous response to the 1929 stock market crash, Hoover was almost universally loathed by the millions of Americans who suffered while he rejected the notion of government intervention in favor of "self-reliance."  Seeing this splendidly perfect little town preserved in honor of a reviled president who had lived there only 11 years conjured images of the shanty towns built by the homeless during his term in office and derisively called Hoovervilles.  Why were we spending so much money ($1.4 million in 2011) to preserve this expansive site?
     

We left without an answer.  Interestingly, when we watched the video that the National Park Service offered about Hoover, it ended abruptly with his being sent to Oregon to live with an uncle after he was orphaned at age 11.  There was no mention of his presidency, whatsoever.  With the site's surprising attendance of 134,249 in 2011 (greater than the FDR home NHS), we can only surmise that many thousands of Iowa schoolchildren are making field trip pilgrimages to the birthplace of Iowa's only native White House inhabitant.  A plethora of comments about school field trips on the site's web pages bears this out.
     

Though he may not be the subject of any campaign to add another Presidential face to Mount Rushmore, Herbert Hoover is well remembered in his home state.  And perhaps that's just as it should be.  

TUESDAY, 4 SEPTEMBER 2012

Sullivan Brothers Iowa Veterans Museum, Waterloo

A replica of part of the USS Juneau's hull and a Mustang bomber escort in the Veterans Museum

Since today was Sunday, we decided to take advantage of the opportunity for an unobstructed view of the Minnesota State Capitol in Saint Paul.  Though we weren't able to visit inside, we had the grounds to ourselves, with just a couple of other photographing tourists arrived as we were departing.
   

The heart of Minnesota's government sits on a hill with a panoramic view of Saint Paul.  Modeled after Saint Peter's Basilica in Rome, the building boasts the second largest unsupported marble dome in the world—after Saint Peter's, of course.  

   

     

Unfortunately, our timing was a bit off.  The last of the summer compilations of previous shows was aired this weekend, and the new Prairie Home season opens at the Fitzgerald this coming Saturday.  Though we've enjoyed the show in both Atlanta and Columbus, GA, it would have been nice to attend in its home territory.
     
Leaving Saint Paul, we were again on I-35, heading south toward Iowa.  We made a couple of letterboxing stops in the Minnesota towns of Burnsville, Dundas, and Owatonna.  Near Millersburg, the search for a letterbox took us to Christdala Swedish Lutheran Church and an interesting story about its founding.  

     

In September, 1876, Jesse James and his gang attempted to rob the bank in the nearby town of Northfield.  Due to unfortunate timing, a recent Swedish immigrant from Millersburg who had gone to the bank that day was killed by Cole Younger.  There was no Swedish cemetery in Millersburg, so the victim had to be buried in Northfield.  As a result of this incident, Swedish members of the community in Millersburg met and decided to establish the Christdala church and cemetery.  By 1966, membership in the small church had declined to just a handful and the congregation was disbanded.  A preservation association continues to maintain the building and cemetery.
     
The criminals were eventually captured and Younger served prison time for the murder.  Because of their success in foiling the robbery, the town of Northfield celebrates "Defeat of Jesse James Days" each September.
     
We stopped at the Iowa welcome center, cleverly designed to look like a big red barn, and drove on toward Mason City, the location of our next letterbox.  To pass the time I was looking at the Roadside America app, a repository of offbeat tourist attractions.  A search for nearby oddities told me we were within ten miles of the Buddy Holly crash site near Clear Lake, IA.  Who could pass that by?

     

Once we found the correct gravel road, it wasn't difficult to locate the place.  An oversized pair of horn-rim glasses marked the beginning of a half-mile trek through the cornfield to the place where  Buddy Holly, Ritchie Valens, "The Big Bopper" Richardson, and their pilot perished when their plane crashed soon after take-off in poor weather conditions.

     

The place where the music died

We found the variety of personal items left in tribute to be fascinating:  library cards, work IDs, a current driver's license, hotel room keys, concert tickets, money, CDs, silk flowers, shoes, and, of course, glasses.  We left a couple of coins ourselves and paid our respects to the musicians whose death prompted February 3, 1959 to be dubbed "the day the music died."

Continuing south, we made it to Waterloo, Iowa, our destination for the night to find the hotel virtually empty because of the Labor Day holiday.  Needless to say, things were very quiet and we had no noisy neighbors disturbing our sleep.

MONDAY, 3 SEPTEMBER 2012

MINNESOTA STATS

• Land area:  86,938 sq miles (12th largest state)
• Population:  5,344,861  (21st most populous)
• Highest point:  Eagle Mountain - 2,302 ft.
• Statehood:  1858 (32nd state)
• Capital:  Saint Paul
• Largest city:  Minneapolis
• Claims to fame:  
• northernmost state of the contiguous 48
• healthiest residents
• most physically active residents
• highest percent of residents with at least a high school education
• first indoor shopping mall
• largest shopping mall (Mall of America)
• Famous natives: Chief Justice Warren Burger, Bob Dylan, Billy Graham, Prince, Charles Lindbergh, Garrison Keillor, Charles M. Schulz
• Fictional natives:  Paul Bunyan, Betty Crocker, Jolly Green Giant, Rocky and Bullwinkle

Looking for a Buddy on the path to the crash site

Being enthusiastic fans of Claes Oldenburg and his oversize renditions of ordinary objects, our first stop today had to be the Minneapolis Sculpture Garden.  Though we don't always remember to look for his works in the areas we are visiting, the Spoonbridge and Cherry fountain-sculpture (pictured above) is such a Minneapolis icon we couldn't miss it.
    

Commissioned especially for this central spot in the sculpture garden, the spoon is 52 feet long, spanning a pond, and the cherry weighs a whopping 1,200 pounds.  Because of its size, the sculpture had to be fabricated at two New England shipyards.  Though most photos depict the cherry a bright red, its color seems to have faded.  We found it to be the deep maroon color of a very ripe Bing cherry.  The cherry's stem houses a fountain that sprays a fine mist into the air while nozzles at the stem's base keep the cherry slickly coated with water. 
    

Inside the sculpture garden's conservatory is another larger than life creation, Standing Glass Fish by Frank Gehry, installed in 1986.  When the artist was a child, his grandmother would bring home a large carp each Thursday evening to make gefilte fish for Friday night dinner.  To keep the fish fresh, she filled the bathtub with water and allowed Gehry to watch over the fish while it writhed and jumped in its attempts to escape this odd confinement.  

Memories of these moments have inspired Gehry to incorporate images of carps into a variety of works including this one, a 22-ft high glass and steel sculpture that appears to be dancing out of the water of a shallow black reflective pond in a room surrounded by palms.  Plate glass scales reveal the wood and steel skeleton within.  The artist-architect likes the patterns made by fish scales and the fluid movement of fish in water so much he has even designed buildings shaped like fish.

At the opposite end of the sculpture garden is the Alene Grossman Memorial Arbor.  The entire 300-foot length of the vine-covered stainless steel arbor is lined with colorful plantings of perennial and annual flowers, creating a contemplative corner where visitors can quite literally stop to smell the flowers.
   

From the sculpture garden, we drove to Guthrie Theater to purchase tickets for the matinee performance of Trick Boxing, a play written and performed by a local couple.  After visiting the box office, we had just enough time for a delicious lunch at Spoonriver Restaurant, another wonderful locavore discovery which was conveniently next door to the theater.  We both found our meals to be perfectly prepared from fresh ingredients and very flavorful.

Trick Boxing told the story of a Depression-era mobster who recruits a hapless new immigrant as a prizefighting patsy.  In an unexpected turn, his new-found girlfriend, a dancer, teaches him some fancy footwork and he ends up defeating the champion.  The performance lasted an hour and a half with no intermission and taught us a valuable lesson:  never rely on just one review.  Let's just say that was a long 75 minutes.

Trick Boxing scene (photo from Minnesota Star Tribune)

After the play, we explored the area around the theater a bit.  It is located on the Mississippi River in the old mill district.  This part of Minneapolis was once a thriving industrial section.  The power of nearby Falls of St. Anthony was first harnessed in the 1820s to run a gristmill and a sawmill.  In later years, numerous flour mills lined the river bank.  At the height of its milling activity, Minneapolis was the flour milling capital of the world.
    

As fossil fuels began to replace water to generate power for the mills, the city's importance in the industry declined and by the 1960s many of the old mills lay vacant.  Thanks to a city redevelopment plan, today former mills have been converted to condos, offices and museums.  The entire area has seen a resurgence of residential and pedestrian activity, aided by pedestrian and bicycle-friendly trails along the river.  The pristine cleanliness of the mill area certainly belies its industrial past.
    

After exploring the delightful downtown area for a while, finding a letterbox along the way, we headed back to our hotel in suburbia, but not before visiting one last Minneapolis landmark.  "Who can turn the world on with her smile?"  This musical question was asked each week as the Mary Tyler Moore Show came on the air and we all watched Mary toss her hat in the air in her adopted city of Minneapolis.  Years later, TVLand, which was airing the show, erected a monument to this memorable chapter of television history.

Who can turn the world on with her smile?

Presumably on the same spot where Mary executed that tam toss in the opening credits, a sculpture of her in the act of throwing was erected on Nicollet Mall, a street in downtown Minneapolis.  And with that bit of TV history, we called it a day in Minneapolis and headed back to our hotel in the 'burbs, where one last surprise awaited us.

Abby & Brittany Hensel

As we exited our car at the hotel, who should be walking to a vehicle parked two spaces away but TLC's latest reality TV stars?  No, we are not talking about Honey Boo Boo and Sugar Bear.  It was none other than Abigail and Brittany Hensel, the conjoined twins who star in Abby & Brittany and who live in the Minneapolis area. We spoke to them ("Hey!  We like your TV show.") and wished them well with their new TV show.  They were very polite and gracious but obviously on their way somewhere and not inclined to stop to chat, so we went our separate ways, flushed with our tiny brush with stardom.  No doubt they'll mention an encounter with a nice couple from Georgia on a future show.   

SUNDAY, 2 SEPTEMBER 2012