Rolling and Strolling in Little Rock, Arkansas

June 18-20
Thursday

When we got to Little Rock in the late afternoon, our first stop was the downtown Visitor's Center. We emerged half an hour later with two icy cold bottles of complimentary Central Arkansas Water (survival supplies in this 98 degree weather), a city map marked up with so many red penciled lines and Xs that we weren't sure we could possibly remember what they all meant, and a bag full of brochures and coupons for more attractions than we could see in a week, let alone two days.

We ignored all the dining suggestions they gave us at the Visitor's Center and went to dinner at a recently opened tapas restaurant (Capi's) in the suburbs that we had read about in the Weekend section of the newspaper. We took all our tourist materials into the restaurant and strategized the rest of our visit while sharing a few small plates of wonderful Mediterranean and South American inspired treats.

Friday

We got an early start, so we could ride the River Trail before the temperature got too far into the 90s. The trail is a 17 mile paved bicycle/walking trail loop that runs along the north and south shores of the Arkansas River. The title of this section comes from the trail's slogan: "Rollin' and Strollin' the River Trail."

We parked the car in the Clinton Presidential Library Lot, unloaded our bicycles, and hopped on the trail right there. The first part of our ride took us through urban Little Rock, including some beautifully landscaped riverfront areas, and some less attractive spots, such as a street with the Salvation Army Mission on one side and a community of homeless people sleeping under sheets of cardboard on the other. As we got further outside the city, we passed attractive office parks and apartments, and scattered green spaces, until we got to an area of dedicated riverfront parkland. Lots of other people were on the trail biking, jogging, and walking their dogs.

We crossed the Arkansas River on the Big Dam Bridge, the longest bicycle/pedestrian bridge built for that purpose in the world. The bridge is built over the Murray Lock and Dam, and afforded us tremendous views of the river, the dam, and hundreds of swallows and purple martins soaring around the dam and bridge.

The trail on the north side of the river was almost all through parkland, including a spectacular wildflower meadow and miles and miles of lightly forested river banks. We enjoyed bird watching from our bicycles and frequent stops for photographs. We crossed back to the city on an old railroad bridge which had been converted to a pedestrian and bicycle bridge.

We returned to our hotel for showers and a change of clothes, then headed back to the William J. Clinton Presidential Center, which we expected to be the highlight of our time in Little Rock.
The Center is a massive glass and metal rectangle that is elevated above the ground and juts out toward the river, like an unfinished bridge. President Clinton intended the architecture to symbolize his bridge to the 21^st Century, but, not surprisingly, the locals, even ones who like Clinton, do not all agree; one described it as a trailer on an eighteen wheeler, and we could see his point.

Our Presidential Center visit started out very well with lunch at Café 42, a white tablecloth restaurant in a modern metal and glass space looking over Clinton Park. There were several tables of local "ladies who lunch," some celebrating a birthday—a sign we had chosen well on the dining front.

We continued to the exhibits, and were overwhelmed with too much Clinton. The main floor is organized with a chronology of the Clinton years running like a backbone 120 feet down the center of a monstrously open gallery, and eight "policy alcoves" crammed with information and artifacts running along the walls on each side of the chronology. The chronology contains a large panel for each year Clinton was in office, and each panel has at least ten accomplishments for the year listed, with no attempt at prioritization. President Clinton suggests that the visitor integrate visits to the policy alcoves with viewing of the panels while moving along the chronology of his Presidency. Additionally, underneath each panel is a shelf of loose leaf notebooks filled with Clinton's schedule for every day of that year of his Presidency (we only looked at a couple of pages of one, and thought later, hey, we should have seen what he was doing on our birthdays).

So, by the time we were done walking down the center aisle, we had 80 accomplishments skipping around in our heads, and we had seen numerous alcove videos of Clinton discussing his policies and programs, not to mention hearing his voice in our ears talking about his strategic vision and philosophy behind some of his decisions, thanks to the Audio Guides that we decided to add on to our basic ticket purchase to enhance our visit. While he was President, Clinton had a hard time with brevity, and he still does. Why couldn't he just stick with a Peace and Prosperity theme, two things we think he did well, rather than throwing so much at us that our heads felt like whirling Mixmasters when we left?

What were our favorite parts of the museum?

Gayl: Lunch, the architecture, and the Dale Chihouly glass sculpture.

Dick: The Oval Office recreation, especially the ornate desk.

After a bit of driving around town in search of geocaches, we crossed the river to North Little Rock to enjoy the Argenta Third Friday Artwalk. Argenta is striving mightily to become a gallery district, and on the third Friday of every month artists and artisans line Main Street, the art galleries open their doors and serve refreshments, and musicians set up in doorways and on street corners. We strolled the neighborhood, visited all the galleries, and enjoyed talking with a few artists with booths on the street. An ornate Victorian Bed and Breakfast displayed the work of local artists on its walls and opened its doors to visitors. The house had an interesting history—it was built around 1880 by a successful Black jockey from England, but when it was done he couldn't live in it, so he had to sell it. (The plaque left unanswered the question of how he could go through all the steps of building it before someone clued him in about segregation in the South.) We ate dinner at an eclectic restaurant in the heart of Argenta, appropriately named The Starving Artist Café.

Saturday

We got an early start again today, so we could complete a walking tour of the historic neighborhood around the Governor's Mansion before the temperature got above 95 degrees. The Governor's Mansion, built in 1950 on the former site of a School for the Blind, is one of the more modest homes in the neighborhood. Most of the other homes we passed were built between the late 1800s and early 1900s for wealthy and successful businessmen, and one remarkable woman real estate speculator. We chatted with the owner of a particularly ornate and well-maintained Queen Anne-style home who was doing yard work when we passed. He told us that the house had been unoccupied for years and was condemned when he bought it in 1980. Although he and his wife have lived in it for over 20 years, he just finished rehabilitating his final room last year.

Our favorite house is now a bed and breakfast called "The Empress of Little Rock," and it deserves the title.
It is an extravagantly flamboyant Gothic Queen Ann displaying every fancy element of the style possible—wood, stucco, brick, stone and terra cotta building materials, a fancy turret, a multi-gabled irregular roofline that pops out in four directions, stained glass and decorative small panes in some of the windows, and fancy millwork on the wrap-around porch. We couldn't stop taking pictures.

We finished walking just in time to hop in the car and make the 11 a.m. tour of the world headquarters of Heifer International. Heifer International is a non-profit humanitarian organization with a mission to end hunger and poverty in sustainable ways which care for the Earth. Our church raised money for their Heifer Project, which provides livestock and training to help poor families worldwide.

Illustrating their commitment to caring for the Earth, Heifer International built their headquarters as a "green" building which has earned them a Platinum LEEDS certification. Our guide showed us how they collect rainwater from parking lots and the roof to be used for non-potable purposes such as flushing toilets. The air-conditioning vents are on the floor, and they only air condition the lower six feet of each floor. The heat vents are by the windows, since that is where the cold air is. They reduce their use of artificial light by positioning the building to optimize sunlight in work spaces, having overhead lights connected to motion detectors so that they are only on when needed, and using desk lights and sunlight, rather than overhead lighting in the office cubicle area. Local materials and many recycled products were used in construction.

It is an impressive building from the outside, but one that seems quite spare inside, for all the expense involved. Living green is a habit that takes some getting used to. Their investment will begin paying out in energy savings in ten years, optimistically.

After our tour, we visited Heifer Village, Heifer International's Museum, which has exhibits about the causes of and solutions to hunger and poverty, including many stories of Heifer International projects. We only learned about Heifer in the past ten years or so, and didn't realize that it began back in 1938 with an American Relief worker who organized a group of his Indiana farmer neighbors to provide livestock to those in need under the slogan, "not a cup, but a cow." In 1947-50, they sent cows to refugee resettlement centers in West Germany and to war-ravaged areas of Japan. In 1956, a Heifer project cross-breeding cows in India quadrupled milk production from millions of cows.

After lunch we spent most of the afternoon at the Little Rock Central High School National Historic Site. We began the story of the desegregation of Little Rock High back at the Eisenhower Library, which highlighted Eisenhower's use of the 101st Airborne to enforce the civil rights of the nine Black students attempting to exercise their right to attend the historically all-white public high school, after the Arkansas governor called out his National Guard troops to prevent them from entering the school.

At the Little Rock Central High School National Historic Site, the story came alive and became personal. The site had many documentary videos, including news coverage of the event, and recent video interviews with the people involved looking back on their experiences with the perspective of time. We don't think we know any high school age kids with the bravery, courage and determination that those nine high school students showed in making their way through a massive mob yelling hate-filled epithets and spitting on them, so that they could attend a school that would not allow them to play any sports or engage in other extracurricular activities. We don't know any parents who could let their children be subjected to the danger of violence from hostile mobs outside the school and the harassment by teachers and kids inside the school.

The commitment and character of "The Little Rock Nine" and their families stood in sharp contrast to the lack of respect for the law of the land and human rights shown by Governor Faubus and many in the community. Our visit to the museum was a surprisingly emotional experience for both of us.

The picture in this section is a bronze statue of "The Little Rock Nine" found on the back lawn of the State Capitol. In the background is the state's replica of the Liberty Bell, apt placement, we think, in light of the Federal Government's role in intervening to protect the liberty of the Little Rock Nine when the state refused to do so.

"Never doubt that a small group of thoughtful, committed citizens can change the world. Indeed, it's the only thing that ever has." (Margaret Mead) Today Little Rock Central High School's student population is about 50% Black and 50% White, it is #1 in the state in student achievement, and #62 on Newsweek's list of the Top 100 High Schools in the country.

We ended our day by celebrating our anniversary over dinner at Trio's, a fine dining restaurant in the hills high above downtown Little Rock. We chose the restaurant because it is owned by the couple that owns Capi's, where we had such an enjoyable dining experience Thursday. We had the finest meal of our trip so far, creatively prepared with fresh local produce and beautifully presented (example: I had lamb presented on a bed of local greens with black raspberries, strawberries and blueberries in a balsamic vinaigrette, served in a bowl made of crisped parmesan cheese).

As we were just about to get to bed at 11 p.m., two dogs started barking in the room across the hall. Evidently their owners had stepped out for some sort of late night activity and the dogs did not like being alone in a strange room. We ended up packing up all our stuff and moving to a room on another floor around midnight. It was a bad end to a wonderful stay in Little Rock.

Signs of the Times

June 19

As we made our way from Kansas south through Arkansas, the terrain got far hillier, the roads curvier, and the fields gave way to rock outcroppings and vast forested areas, with just a few tiny towns along the way.

There were not too many places that beckoned us to stop. We saw a raggedy antique store/tin smith/black smith/car garage operation along the road, and stopped just because the odd assortment of antlers and buckets on the porch, spare parts in the yard, and its multiple business signs were intriguing. A big sign out front said:

Open Now and Then

If Not Now

Maybe Then.

Too bad, it wasn't open then, maybe it is open now, but we'll never know.

Before we got to Hot Springs, we drove a serpentine route for about thirty miles through the Ouachita National Forest. There we learned that Smokey the Bear lives on, but he has changed with the times. Instead of direct statements, like "Only you can prevent forest fires," his new pronouncements have a Zen-like quality. I spotted him on two signs where he said, "If not you, who?" and "You hold its future in your hands." Is Smokey smoking something funny?

We were surprised to see signs referring to the "Wilbur Mills Freeway" in Little Rock. The name sounded familiar. "Wasn't he the congressman who got caught drunk with a stripper and jumped in a fountain?" Dick asked. Yes, Dick, good memory. Memory booster shot for the rest of us: Wilbur Mills was a Congressman from Arkansas from 1939 until 1977. In 1974 the DC police stopped him for drunk driving at 2 a.m., and an Argentinian stripper (stage name: Fanne Foxe) happened to be in the car with him. He tried to elude police by jumping into the Tidal Basin. The good people of Arkansas reelected him to another term just one month after this little incident. Later, Wilbur went into rehab and became a fundraiser for alcohol treatment centers. So it is very appropriate that this notorious drunk driver not only has a freeway named for him, but also a rehab center—The Wilbur D. Mills Treatment Center for Alcohol and Drugs.

How to Make a 95 Degree Day Seem Mild and Temperate

Hot Springs, Arkansas (mile 2,580)
June 18

People have been flocking to Hot Springs, Arkansas to bathe in the waters of its 143 degree hot springs for hundreds of years. Before the Federal Government had a national park system, it set aside land here in 1832 under its reservation system, to protect the springs, the first time it ever had created a reservation to protect a natural resource (most of the other reservations, the ones set aside for the Native Americans, were in places of scarce natural resources). By the late 1800s luxurious private bath houses were being erected here for purposes both medicinal and recreational.

Today, as then, Bathhouse Row is the centerpiece of downtown Hot Springs. Most of the historic bath houses stand vacant, but the most elegant of all the buildings on the row, the Fordyce Bath, is a National Park site which has been restored to its original elegance, although not to its original function—tours are given, no baths are taken. After learning all about the glories of the bath experience during our tour of Fordyce, we (more accurately, I) couldn't wait to immerse ourselves in history at the Buckstaff, the only bath house remaining which provides the traditional bathing experience enjoyed in the heyday of Hot Springs. The Buckstaff has been in continuous operation since 1912, and still gives the same bath today that it gave when it began.

We both signed up for the traditional five stage bath package, then split up, as Dick went to the men's bath and I went to the women's.
Dick got done first. When I was done with my bath, I found him in a rocker on the front porch of the bath house cooling off in the 95 degree weather. After effusing for about five minutes about how wonderful and relaxed I felt and what a great experience I had just enjoyed, it occurred to me that Dick was strangely silent. I asked him how he liked his bath, and learned that this was one of those few times when he and I were not anywhere near agreement on the issue. This is the story of our baths:

Pre-bath:
Gayl: I was taken upstairs in a vintage elevator hand-operated by a pleasant woman who wished me a wonderful bathing experience. The locker room attendant met me at the elevator, escorted me to a little dressing room, and told me to put my clothes in a locker while she went away to get a sheet for me. She came back, said "Stand with your back to me, dear," then opened the curtain and did a wonderful twisty toga wrap around me with the sheet, and took me to a lounge to wait for my bath attendant.

Dick: I was pointed to the dressing room, put my clothes in the locker, saw a sheet on the bench, called out to ask the attendant what to do with it, and he told me, "Wrap it around you any way you want, it's just for modesty."

Bath:

Gayl: The attendant took me to my own little marble-walled cubicle with a big curvy old tub that was being filled with thermal spring water at 100 degrees temperature (a very large thermometer was affixed to the foot of the tub). She helped me up a little step and into the tub, then told me to lean forward so she could wash my back, then she washed my arms and legs, turned on a whirlpool, left the wash cloth and soap and the tub full to the top, gave me two cups of hot spring water to drink while I was bathing, said she would be back in 20 minutes, closed the curtain, and left. I rested my head on the big towel she had folded and placed just at the right spot on the rim of the tub, closed my eyes and enjoyed the swirling water and the sounds of the tubs filling and water churning in the cubicles around me. It was very peaceful and relaxing—I lost track of time.

Dick: The attendant took me to the tub. I wondered if they wash these tubs between customers. Do they even empty them between customers? The water was 106 degrees. It's only supposed to be 100, and I thought maybe it would cool off, but it just got hotter. I watched the clock and checked my heart rate every five minutes to be sure I was not getting a heart attack. My head was pounding. I got up and turned off the whirlpool, because its action was making the water hotter.

Sitz Bath:

Gayl: The attendant took me to the bath, put a towel on the bottom, told me this is good for the lower back and hips, turned on a slow flow of very hot water, and showed me how to control the flow. When I sat down, she draped me with towels, and gave me another cup of water to drink while bathing. It was like sitting on a throne with the cushion removed and adding water. The water was a lot hotter than the bath I just had, but I got used to it.

Dick: The attendant took me to a tub with a board across it that looked about 40 years old, and he told me to sit on the board. There was dirt and gravel in the bottom of the tub by the drain. For the price we paid for this, they should at least clean the bottom of the tub. The scalding water flowed from a faucet down my back, then went down the drain. I didn't soak in it; I don't get the point. My head was still throbbing. I was watching the clock, waiting for the attendant to come back. I didn't get any more water to drink after one cup at the first tub.

Steam chest:
Gayl: The attendant put me in a steam chest that looks just like the one from the "I Live Lucy" episode. She took my sheet and draped it around the head opening in the steam chest so all was soft around my neck. She told me how to get out if I needed to, and promised to keep an eye out for me. Sweat was running from every pore like Niagara Falls, but I stayed in the box until my attendant got me after about five minutes. I wonder how many pounds I just lost?

Dick: Your head was out? I was in a tiny room full of steam. I could hardly breathe! My head was throbbing so hard I could clock my heart beat without touching my wrist. I couldn't see a clock, but I counted the seconds, and I got out of there at three minutes.

Hot packs:

Gayl: The attendant led me to a cushioned table, gave me two cups of iced spring water and asked me where I wanted my hot packs. I told her my lower back, shoulders and legs. She folded and wrapped hot moist towels in those spots, then covered me loosely with my sheet, put a cool compress on my forehead and left me for about twenty minutes, as the packs slowly cooled. I closed my eyes and almost fell asleep, it was so soothing and relaxing.

Dick: The attendant put a scalding hot wet towel on the table, straight from the 143 degree faucet, then had me lie on it, put a scalding towel lengthwise on top of me, then wrapped me up so tight in my sheet that I couldn't move. I didn't get anything cool to drink or on my forehead—my head was throbbing. I was counting the minutes until it would be over. I was taking my pulse by the throbbing of my whole body.

Needle Shower:

Gayl: After the hot packs cooled to room temperature, the attendant took me to the needle shower. About a dozen vertical pipes have holes running their full length, so the shower spray comes at you from all angles, gently, not like needles. The water was pleasantly warm, not too hot. I could have stayed in there for a long time, but the attendant called me out after only about five minutes.

Dick: That was the only part I liked, because with the water at 90 degrees, it felt cool. It lasted a minute or two.

For hours afterward as we walked around town in the 95 degree heat wave, we both found the weather seemed far more temperate than it had been before.

Although Dick's bathing experience was not as pleasant as we might have hoped,
throughout Hot Springs history plenty of bathers have been subjected to unpleasant water torture experiences in the name of "taking the cure." On our tour of Fordyce Bath House we saw a set-up of fire hoses with nozzles that could concentrate the water into a stream the diameter of a soda straw. Highly trained attendants wielding the hoses would focus the water on patients in a variety of fiendish ways, depending on the ailment being treated. Electricity was new and novel in those days, and the spas found many ways to impress their clients with its use. One treatment that doctors sometimes prescribed for "nerves" involved the patient donning a metal helmet and climbing into a full tub, whereupon the attendant ran an electrical current through the water. (These spa services are no longer offered.)

A water experience we both agree is rejuvenating and relaxing can be found in the lakes at the outskirts of town.
We stayed in a little hotel on Lake Hamilton, where the water was warm enough to jump right in, but cool enough to be refreshing. While we were swimming, the Belle of Hot Springs riverboat cruised right up to within a couple hundred feet of us while giving its tour, and then turned around, an awesome sight when viewed from water level. While not in the water, we enjoyed sitting in our air conditioned room and looking out at all the lake people water skiing, jet skiing, and cruising the lake in their pontoon boats.

A Little About Kansas

June 16

The Eisenhower Historic Site was not the only thing we did in Kansas—even though it was our destination, as always, we had lots of unexpected treats along the way that reminded us to see the journey as our goal, rather than the destination.

One of our treats was Abilene, which we expected to be a cow town. Actually, it was a cow town, but it was a cow town with class. Back in the early 1800s, it stood at the end of the old Chisholm Trail, where it served cattlemen with saloons, gambling houses and other unsavory establishments. It was incorporated in 1869, and its first sheriff was dead in the line of duty within a year. The next sheriff was Wild Bill Hickok, and the place got real peaceful real quick, although business suffered a little while when the cowboys found someplace else to play. Hickok moved on after a couple years—apparently working someplace peaceful wasn't much fun for him either.

Even now, a lot of Kansans want to hold on to a piece of the Wild West. While I was browsing in one of Abilene's many antique stores, Dick struck up a conversation with a couple working the cash register who were from the next town over—Salina—where yesterday police shot a man armed with a toy gun in his yard. The Salina resident's commentary was, "Oh, that kind of stuff is nothing new—the papers just like to put it on the front page now to stir up people against guns. If you had a police scanner, you'd know these shootings been going on for years."

The town must have gotten over the loss of cowboy business by around 1880, because we walked and drove around a large neighborhood of homes built between 1880 and 1920 on "The Little Town of Mansions" self-guided tour, and it was clear this place was prosperous back then. There are more Gothic Victorian homes here than we have seen anywhere else on our travels. We lunched in an ornately decorated Gothic Victorian mansion across the street from an ADM flour facility with a block-long series of concrete silos tall enough to see from anywhere else in town. Classy Cow Town.

We made it a point to stay overnight in Lawrence, Kansas, which we remembered fondly from a past cross-country drive. It is a scenic, cosmopolitan college town, home to the University of Kansas, with lots of off-beat shops and interesting restaurants, set on terrain that is way hillier than you would ever expect in Kansas. A bumper sticker captured our feelings well: "Lawrence—27 Square Miles of Reality Surrounded by Kansas."

Which reminds me to mention radio stations in Kansas. We listen to NPR whenever and wherever we can find it, and in Kansas, NPR comes from the UK campus. Out of range of their broadcast facilities, that end of the radio dial is full of religious stations, at least a dozen of them, some of them pretty scary if you stop to listen. One program featured a former Muslim who had converted to Christianity offering advice to Evangelical Christians on how to save others like him—remember that Islam is a religion full of demons, expect Muslims to backslide because of the demons and devils inherent in Islam. We actually flipped to the AM dial and found Rush Limbaugh for a kinder, gentler listening experience, although 10 minutes was all we could stand.

A final note about dining in Kansas. We haven't had anything as distinctive as the Horseshoe here, but at breakfast in Junction City, our waitress did ask Dick if he wanted gravy on his hash browns. That's a first. We knew we had found a true local hang-out when we walked in and all the booths across the front of the restaurant were filled with guys in cowboy hats and feed caps who followed us with their eyes until we got out of their territory. The farm folk at the table next to us were in earnest conversation, and we caught the word "evolution," so our ears perked up. Turned out they were having a really earnest discussion about cultural evolution that shattered our expectations, and almost made us chide ourselves about our stereotypical thinking. But, then they somehow got around to talking about the kind of evolution we expected in the first place, and they didn't disappoint. "I don't know if I came from a monkey, but I do know I have relatives that came from jackasses," the most vocal woman at the table proclaimed in a voice that was meant to be heard tables away.

We Like Ike in Abilene, Kansas (mile 1,955)

June 15, 2009

Despite our goal of avoiding interstates on this adventure, it was most appropriate that we speed along I-70 to get to the Eisenhower Presidential Library in Abilene today, because President Eisenhower championed the development of the interstate highway system, and the Kansas portion of I-70 was the first part of the system to be officially completed.

Since Eisenhower succeeded Truman as President, we were able to continue our Presidential history lesson chronologically at the Eisenhower Library. Even more intriguing was the very different perspectives the two sites offered in their coverage of the important events in the lives and times which both men shared.

We began with the Visitor Center film, which repeatedly referred to the 1940s and 1950s as "The Eisenhower Years," giving him credit for virtual ownership of all that was good over those two decades. Lights up, and I am irked--some of those "Eisenhower Years" were years that other people (e.g. Truman) were President or had more significant impact on changes the film credits to him (e.g. Martin Luther King Jr.).

If Eisenhower had a hand in scripting the film, it was indefensibly egotistical. But, it is possible, even probable, that he had no part in its production--Eisenhower didn't live in Abilene after his presidency, he did not have an office at his museum or library, and the museum is strangely silent on the history of its development, so we aren't sure how involved Eisenhower was in shaping its messages and exhibits, beyond providing lots of artifacts. Taking him off the hook, at a minimum the curators were overreaching—he was a hero who made a huge impact on the world stage, but he was not the sole iconic figure shaping two decades of our history. (As I said, I was irked.)

We walked across a green to Eisenhower's childhood home,
a tiny three bedroom cottage with an outhouse where six Eisenhower boys lived with their parents and grandfather. Describing it as "modest" would be generous. We are now three for three in Presidential Library exhibits visited on this trip with a "rise from humble beginnings" theme.

We continued to the Museum, which had four main gallery areas: (1)childhood and youth,(2) military service with a major focus on World War II and the D Day invavsion (3) a small Mamie fashion gallery, and(4) the post-military years, including the Presidential years. The Military gallery accounted for about 50% of the space, and had the most in-depth curation and most interesting artifacts of all the galleries.

Here is the quick run through of Eisenhower's stellar military career. His 1915 West Point graduating class is known as "The Class the Stars Fell On," because it produced a record number of generals with at least one star, and two achieved the highest rank possible in the Army. Eisenhower gave Mamie his class ring as her engagement ring on Valentine's Day in 1916, and they got married that summer. Eisenhower went on to have tons of different staff positions. One of his early assignments in 1919 was to the first transcontinental motor convoy, testing military vehicles. It took the convoy 62 days to travel 3251 miles from Washington D.C. to San Francisco, due to the deplorable condition of the roads. Surely memories of this experience inspired Ike to champion interstate .highway legislation.

He made himself indispensable to his commanding officers, serving with General McArthur in Panama and the Philippines, and General Marshall, who called him to emergency duty five days after the attack on Pearl Harbor. Their letters of commendation, appreciation and recommendation are on display. Eventually General Eisenhower rose to become Supreme Commander of the Allied Invasion of Northern Europe, orchestrating the Normandy invasion, "the mightiest armada in the history of the world." When General Marshall retired as Army Chief of Staff in 1945, President Truman offered General Eisenhower the job, and he took it on the condition that he be able to retire after two years. "The job was as bad as I always thought it would be," Eisenhower wrote in his diary. One of his biggest headaches was dealing with issues involved in desegregating the Army after Truman signed the order (see yesterday's post).

Eisenhower went from being Army Chief of Staff to being President . . . of Columbia University. All the while politicos from both parties, including Truman, were urging him to run for the Presidency. Truman and Eisenhower were friends, but their friendship soured after Eisenhower made a strategic and opportunistic decision to run for the Presidency on the Republican ticket, even though he supported and had played a role in a number of the important initiatives of Truman's Democratic administration. A Presidency gained, a friendship lost.

The War Years exhibit ended with a display case thirty feet long filled with bejeweled medals, ribbons, and legions of honor awarded to General Eisenhower from too many countries to count. It made for a good transition to Mamie's gallery of jewelry and dresses, including her wedding gown, displayed with a real piece of her wedding cake nestled in a napkin in its original red, white and blue wedding favor box. (If you have never seen an 83 year old piece of cake, take it from me, it is truly gross.) Mamie made the "Ten Best Dressed" list every year she was First Lady, and Ike claimed she was a better campaigner than he was. Beyond that, we learn very little about their relationship here, and there is virtually no mention of Ike's role as a father.

I was intrigued by statements from Eisenhower's speeches quoted in both the film and the exhibit which seemed incongruous with his path to the Presidency. He said:

"This world in arms is not spending money alone. It is spending the sweat of its laborers, the genius of its scientists, the hopes of its children."

"Every gun that is made, every warship launched, every rocket fired signifies. . . a theft from those who hunger and are not fed, those who are cold and are not clothed. . ."

After ascending to the office through his skill at executing war, he spent his Presidency, like Truman, avoiding war. Much of his attention was occupied by ending the Korean War, "keeping the Cold War cold" and negotiating relations with Russia. The economy boomed, and the Voting Rights Act was passed, the first civil rights legislation since Reconstruction. The integration of Little Rock High School was a major crisis, and the President had to use the Army 101^st Airborne Division to escort the nine African American students to class after Governor Fabus refused to use the Arkansas National Guard. We will be in Little Rock in two days—perhaps we will learn another chapter in this story.

By the time his two terms in the White House were over, Eisenhower had suffered a heart attack and a stroke. He and Mamie retired to a farm in Gettysburg, and he died just nine years after leaving office.

We toured the Eisenhower historic site thoroughly, and still were done in time for lunch.

Editorial note: Dick has read this post and does not think I did justice to Dwight David Eisenhower. He has added a few facts to round out my coverage, but declined to do a rewrite or post a counterpoint.

Wild About Harry in Independence, Missouri (mile 1760)

June 14—Flag Day

Isn't it an interesting coincidence that we should be appreciating Harry Truman on Flag Day, since he made it a national holiday in 1949?

We are pretty sure we earned the distinction of being the tourists who spent the longest time at Harry Truman venues today. We began at the National Park Service Historic Site Visitor Center a little after 10:30, caught the 10:45 film about Truman's life in Independence, did a half-hour self-guided walking tour from the Visitor Center to Truman's home (appropriate, since Truman did a brisk 120 paces per minutes walk about his neighborhood just about every day), did the Truman house tour, walked back to the car, then drove to the Truman Presidential Library and Museum, where we arrived shortly after it opened at noon, and left two minutes before they locked the doors at 5 pm.

The Harry and Bess in Independence Story

Harry, who came from a poor family and didn't have much luck in his own business ventures, memorized the eye chart to cheat his way into the Army which would have rejected him because of his bad eyesight, and he came back from the first World War a hero, which finally made him worthy to wed his childhood sweetheart from a prominent Independence family, Bess Wallace. The newlyweds promptly moved into Bess's family homestead, where they lived with her parents and grandmother. Her two brothers had little bungalows in the backyard, and were frequently around the family dinner table, as well.

They left their Independence house for the White House, but there was never a question that they would return to it when their time in Washington was over. Harry and Bess lived in that house until they died, and the National Park Service has maintained the house just the way they found it after Bess willed it to them.

There was nothing presidential about the house we toured. We walked through the back porch door into the kitchen, and were greeted by a red Formica table with chrome trim, a calendar tacked to the wall above it with the page turned to October 1982, the month Bess died. The kitchen cabinets were painted a green shade a few tones darker than pistachio ice cream, and they seemed to be randomly placed on the walls with big gaps between them not filled by appliances. The wall paper was worn down to rough surfaces around pull cords and light switches. This place had not been remodeled since sometime before the White House years. No one was putting on any airs—there wasn't a clue that a former President lived here.

But, the house was full of signs of love. A beautiful life size painting of Margaret dominated the front hall—clearly the focus in this house was on family, not fame. Both Bess and Harry loved to read together at night—their reading chairs sit side-by-side in the library, separated only by a little table with a reading light. On a coat rack by the side door we saw Bess's coat, and Harry's coat and hat, which she had kept hanging there for ten years after he died.

And, when we visited the Truman Library we learned about another sign of their love and devotion—there are 1300 letters Harry sent Bess over the years archived in the library's collections.

The Truman Library

Harry Truman was the first president to develop a Presidential Library. He felt that all the gifts he received and the papers he accumulated during his presidency rightly belonged to the American people, and that it would be wrong of him to keep them or to sell them for personal gain. The development and construction of his presidential library became his life's work when he returned to Independence at the end of his presidency.

So, unlike the Lincoln library and museum that we saw in Springfield four days ago, this library is autobiographical, telling the stories Truman wanted to be told, often documented in his own handwriting. Of course, exhibits have been added and updated in the years since Truman died, but the Board and curators of the Library have stayed true to Truman's vision of the purpose of his museum/library. The highlights of his life were presented in a 45 minute introductory film, and the major aspects of his character and the challenges he faced as president were expanded on, and reinforced, in the museum exhibits.

The museum's message was that Truman was President during a most challenging time in our history, and he was faced with decisions that were bound to make him unpopular with many at home and abroad, but he had a strong moral compass and worked tirelessly for peace and prosperity for all.

His legacy includes:

· ending the Second World War by dropping atomic bombs on Nagasaki and Hiroshima, a wrenching decision that has been second-guessed by historians ever since. (There is a log book in the exhibit area that offers visitors the opportunity to write what they think he should have done—we couldn't find one visitor opinion that was critical of his decision, which surprised us.)

· restoring a peacetime economy in the US.

stabilizing and rebuilding a war-torn Europe through $13 billion in aid offered under the Marshall Plan and the creation of NATO to defend Europe from Soviet attack.

· decommissioning General McArthur, despite his popularity as a war hero, when his actions ran counter to orders from the Commander in Chief and threatened to precipitate a war with China. (The film and exhibit display McArthur in a most unfavorable light, as a spoiled prima donna—they made me wonder whether Truman felt a special animosity toward him.)

· being the first country to recognize Israel.

· being the first president since the Civil war to show a commitment to advancing civil rights. Although the Republican Congress refused to pass most of the civil rights legislation he proposed, he signed executive orders ending racial discrimination in federal employment and ordering the desegregation of the armed forces. He appointed two supreme court justices who believed in civil rights, and his inaugural ball was the first one to be integrated.

Other issues Truman dealt with that made for fascinating exhibits included the advent of the Cold War and civil defense preparations for a nuclear attack, the Korean War, anti-communist investigations (Joseph McCarthy hearings), and Truman's unsuccessful attempt to create a national health care plan.

We came away impressed with Truman's strength of character, the multitude of challenges he faced decisively, and how well his leadership looks now, with over 50 years of hindsight.

Riding the Katy Trail Through Missouri Wine Country

June 12-13

At 225 miles, the Katy Trail is the longest developed rail-trail in the country.
It runs along the former rail bed of the Missouri-Kansas-Texas Railroad. Following the Missouri River, it passes through tiny towns that grew up around the river and the railroad in the 1800s then shrunk as the river and railroad lost their importance for transportation and commerce in the 1900s.

We began our adventure in Augusta (pop. 218), where we ended up in desperation at 8 pm, having seen no sign of a motel for over an hour along the rural road we chose to travel. The streets were empty, none of the little shops or restaurants were open, but we sat in front of a bed and breakfast inn, called the number on its sign, and got a live person who had a very luxurious room for us at a very luxurious price, which we were in no position to bargain over. Most importantly, our stay included a gourmet three course breakfast the next morning—which made up for our peanut butter and cheese and crackers dinner in the room, and fueled us up for our morning ride.

Augusta is one of the 26 trailheads on the Katy Trail, so that's where we began our ride. The path passed through woods, beside cornfields, and along the river. Prairie and woodland wildflowers were abloom, and indigo buntings—little sapphire jewels-- frequently flew across the path. Along the way, there were historic markers in spots where Lewis and Clark stopped during their 1804 exploratory expedition along the Missouri River. One marked the spot where Lewis, climbing high on a bluff across the river, fell off a 200 foot precipice and caught himself with his knife after tumbling twenty feet down.

Further along the trail we reached the spot where Daniel Boone held court under his "Judgement Tree," and we learned about how he moved here at the age of 65, because Spain offered him a generous land grant in the hope that once he moved here other adventurous souls would follow.

After about 18 miles on our fat tire bikes on the packed gravel trail, we decided two things: (1) 18 miles on gravel on these bikes = about 36 paved road miles on our road bikes, and (2) it was time for lunch at a vineyard.

We headed to the historic German village of Hermann, and wound our way up and up a hill at the edge of town to reach the Stone Hill Winery, the oldest (established 1847) and largest winery in the region. We admired the Old World view of the roofs and church spires of the town below, had a German-inspired lunch in a café in a converted horse stable, and then joined a tour of the winery, where we learned about the history of the region and of the winery.

Back in the 1800s German immigrants flocked to the hills around the Missouri River, because the area reminded them of the Rhine region, and the conditions here were similar for grape growing. By the turn of the 20^th century, Missouri was the second largest wine producing region in the United States, and Stone Hill Winery produced more than half of all Missouri's wine, over 1.2 million gallons annually— making it the third largest winery in the world.
The winery had then, and still has, the largest complex of arched cellars in the country. In 1920, Prohibition halted wine production. All wine barrels and wine making and bottling equipment in the country were destroyed, and vinyards were either uprooted or left untended. The ingenious owners of Stone Hill filled their cellars with sterilized manure and turned them into a mushroom farm. Prohibition was repealed in 1933, but the Missouri wine industry didn't really perk up again until the 1960s (when it took the new owners of Stone Hill three years to finally fully eradicate the mushrooms). Today, although Stone Hill is again the leading producer of Missouri wine, it is only bottling about 1/5 of the wine it produced in its heyday.

The tour was followed by a stop in the tasting room, where our jovial pourer gave us and education about the grapes used for each wine, and urged us to try all 11 of the wines she poured. We bought a couple bottles of our favorite wine from the tasting (which we wished we had last night to go with our cheese and crackers), then we headed down the hill and over to Rhineland (pop. 173) for an afternoon trail ride.

On our second day we rode the section of the trail which every rider we talked to listed as their favorite.
We started in the charming little town of Rocheport (pop. 201), 112 miles west of Augusta on the trail, in an area more French-influenced than German. The trail ran along a narrow strip of flat land, with the river on one side and tall rocky bluffs looming over the trail on the other side. The scenery was spectacular, with lots of wildflowers, including red-flowered trumpet vines climbing the rocky cliffs, the barely discernible remains of red painted petroglyphs observed by Lewis and Clark's party high overhead in one spot, caves, a tow boat pushing a barge upriver, and the only tunnel along the entire Katy trail.

After our ride, we lunched in a café in Rocheport with great food and great reading material. Dick browsed a book about Missouri's wine country, which inspired us to visit Rocheport's winery, Le Bourgeousie. Le Bourgeousie has a wine garden, a restaurant and a winery building. We wound our way to the wine garden first, and were treated to a spectacular sight. We stood on the deck of a chalet that sold wine on the top of a hill, overlooking a series of stone terraces filled with people at tables enjoying wine and all sorts of picnics and snacks, all with a view of the river far below. Old wine barrels recycled as planters held colorful flowers. The mood was festive and French, and we were enchanted.

We then made our way to the winery, established in 1983 by a doctor with a wine making hobby whose friends told him his wine was so good he should sell it. The winery is crammed into a building that used to be a restaurant. It has none of the charm of the historic Stone Hill winery—the cellar here just looks like a very clean basement. But, the Le Bourgeousie tour was very interesting, and we learned much more about wine making and bottling processes. (We are always intrigued by machinery, and wine bottle sanitizing, filling, corking and labeling is more complicated than we had imagined.)

The tour ended with an opportunity to taste some of the wines (of course). We tasted the Le Bourgeousie versions of a few of our favorites wines from Stone Hill, and ended up leaving without purchasing any more wine. (The stuff in our car seems to be expanding to fill the space. We simply can't run out of room our second week on the road!)