Tag Archive for tourism

Branding the Ozarks, Tourism

RUINS OF DOGPATCH USA – PART 2

November 28, 2014 • 0 Comments

Billboard two miles north of the ruins of Dogpatch USA on Arkansas Highway 7, south of Harrison.

Across the road from the peeling Dogpatch USA billboard is a contemporary smaller sign illustrating the Edenic recreational opportunities of the Buffalo River country. This wild and scenic stream in 1972 became the first National River and is administered by the U. S. Park Service. (click to enlarge).

A keen observer of popular culture, Roger Brown, published an article called Dogpatch USA: The Road to Hokum, published in Southern Changes, The Journal of Southern Regional Council (1993). Brown actually set foot in the park shortly before its demise:

Dogpatch USA is a classic American roadside attraction. It’s a basket of cornpone and hillbilly hokum in a beautiful Ozark mountain setting. Nearby is a waterfall, limestone caverns, and a spring that flows clear and steadily into a creek that has powered a gristmill for more than 150 years. The decor is bumpkin kitsch.

Though Brown enjoyed the “hokum”, he found the place had “surreal” aspects that the patrons likely missed:

What most of the visitors didn’t fully realize, however, was that they were participating in a moment rich with a sort of postmodern poetics which has since become commonplace: The Arkansas syndicate that built Dogpatch USA was peddling colonial stereotypes as family entertainment, and at the core of the park’s attraction was a complex melody conjured by the dueling banjos of simulation and authenticity.

He interviewed Melvin Bell who bought the park from investors who acquired it at a bankruptcy auction held on the courthouse steps in Jasper after Odum went bust. The auctioneer’s wife once played “Daisy Mae” at Dogpatch. Bell thought the growth that was happening 45 minutes away at Branson would help Dogpatch. Brown also gave some credence to that incorrect idea.

Since 1906, Branson had aggressively pursued tourism with the assistance of Harold Bell Wright and the Missouri Pacific Railroad. A four lane highway now connected the Shepherd of the Hills country with an interstate highway. Silver Dollar City, Dogpatch USA’s competitor, didn’t lock in its image to a clever, but sarcastic comic strip. Folksy Romanticism was in. Irony apparently didn’t appeal to the generation who saw nothing wrong with protesters like leftist folk singer Joan Baez, who Capp had satirized as “Jonnie Phoanie”. Though Silver Dollar City tolerated some fringe hillbilly-ness the park played up a hillfolk portrayal a la Harold Bell Wright and emphasized native crafts. Al Capp might have done a takeoff on the hillbilly Las Vegas, as the neon lit booming Branson was misleadingly called. Early on, he had ripped Shepherd of the Hills in his comic strip.

In the spring of 2014, we wandered through the abandoned Lil’ Abner themed venture in Northern Arkansas. That summer, newspaper articles began popping up announcing that the long closed attraction had a new owner. Charles “Bud” Pelsor and investor James Robertson and wife of Newbury Park, California had purchased 400 acres of the troubled property. Other sections had been already disposed of.

Pelsor, inventor of the Spill Proof Dog Bowl, had big plans. He announced he would restore the old grist mill and with grain milled on the grounds bake artisan bread. He wanted to fix the train tracks that once circled the park and buy back the little locomotive. Trout would be stocked and served at a restaurant. Fresh water mussels would produce pearls. Dilapidated buildings would be reborn. No more locals dressed as characters from a hillbilly comic strip would communicate with visitors in an anachronistic vernacular regional dialect. In other words, Pelsor is not going to go hillbilly with his theme park. The Harrison Daily Times ran an article titled “This Place is Magical” on September 3, 2014 that said: “The park will be geared to eco-tourism. They will plant gardens, orchards, and vineyards.”

Click any image to start the slideshow of Crystal Payton’s photographs of abandoned Dogpatch USA, May, 2014.

Branding the Ozarks, Tourism

A FALL JAUNT ON OLD 66: Part 3 – Gay Parita Station at Paris Springs Junction

November 24, 2014 • 0 Comments

a period building across from the famous Gay Parita station appears to be in the process of restoration. Click to enlarge.

On to Paris Springs Junction, final stop on my short, fall road trip. Several miles west of Halltown 266 bends off left and is absorbed by 96. Old 66 shoots straight ahead to Paris Springs Junction. There is an early building on the south side that looks like it is being renovated. On the north side is a grab-your-camera-and start-wildly-shooting –‘cause-you can’t possibly take a frame from any angle that doesn’t scream “spirit of old Route 66”. Gary Turner’s rebuilt and enhanced Sinclair station attracts transcontinental road warriors like a waterhole on the Serengeti draws gazelles.

Mulling around in the front are the bikers I photographed tooling down the road at Halltown. It’s a Japanese motorcycle club looking for the real America. At first I wonder if they’ve found it at such an orgy of vintage and reproduction signage, rusty and restored vehicles, and new and old buildings. The more I wander through this ode-to-the-road, I recall our thesis on the HYPERCOMMON. Authenticity is not a ruler to be held up to American popular culture. An excess of the ordinary – while immeasurable – is what a lot of American culture is all about. Yes, the bikers from the land of the rising sun may have indeed found a true piece of the real, but often inauthentic and theatrical America.

There was a 1934 gas station here called Gay Parita, but it burned in 1955. The owner’s wife was named Gay. What Parita means I don’t know. Gary G. Turner and his wife Lena constructed a new station from period specifications, but didn’t stop there. Every surface of the building is plastered with repro signs and the yard is filled with aging rolling stock.

Among Gary’s many past occupations, mostly as a truck driver, he played a bank robber at Knott’s Berry Farm in California. He was born in Stone County, Missouri, not far from the mythic Shepherd of the Hills country that morphed into the Branson fantasia. Clearly he endorses a creative approach to history. His up to date knowledge of road food for at least several hundred miles on old 66 is however factual. He will even tell you what to order for dessert at the best cafes. Like Halltown’s Thelma White, Gary Turner is a beacon of mythos and information to guide the traveler on their real and imagined trip back in time.

The liberties with strict recreation Gary took with the Sinclair station are minor compared with what awaits the visitor in the vintage stone garage. It’s a noteworthy example of vernacular architecture filled to the roof with a surrealist assemblage of commercial artifacts. Words don’t do justice to this artfully arranged collection of genuine old stuff so be amazed at the slide show.

There are many hundreds of images of this recreated Sinclair gas station on the Internet.

Click on any image for a slide show.

Paris Springs Junction is on a short section of doubly bypassed Route 66.

In the HYPERCOMMON universe there’s nothing odd about a group of Japanese guys on Harleys enjoying a recreated gas station on a vanished highway.

Lena Turner, like Gary, enjoys the diversity of travelers who stop to chat, and occasionally buy a T-shirt or souvenir.

The handsome, original stone garage. Photographers, amateur and professional alike, find this place has limitless potential. National Geographic Traveler has a substantial post on it.

The tableau of mostly roadside related antiques is amazingly arranged.

Sadly, the mechanic at the Gay Parita garage has been worked to death.

Stetson hat posed on the hood of a chrome yellow restored truck. Transportation-related things tend to be masculine. While the building is of local materials and vernacular construction these machines reflect modern corporate technology, most of which were bought and utilized by men.

The bold design of roadside signage reflects Madison Avenue’s effort to appeal to the male eye. There’s little domestic about roadside products. The female cutout figure (is it Marilyn? Let us know if you know) sticks out.

Dad’s cash register and check writer sit on Mom’s treadle sewing machine. Men chased the buck, while women stayed home and sewed. That’s how it once was, folks, like it or not.

Branding the Ozarks, Tourism

A FALL JAUNT ON OLD 66: Part 2 – Halltown

November 21, 2014 • 1 Comment

My next stop on the nostalgia highway is hardly a ghost town, although it got a write up and several pictures in Ghost Towns Of Route 66 by Hinkley and James (2011). Its population isn’t even in decline. Halltown had 168 residents in 1946, stated Jack D. Rittenhouse in his seminal A Guide Book to Highway 66, published that year. The 2010 census lists its population at 173.

Closed gas station, Halltown, Missouri. The rain-polished rock remains of the Plano store invite photography, or even poetry. The off-ochre shut-down gas station is just a sad comment on the perilous state of small business. I’m intrigued by it, but it probably goes unnoticed by most Route 66 pilgrims.

Brenda and Dirk pressed their hands in the wet cement where a gas pump once stood in front of the failed station. Two dimes were also embedded in the concrete. One is missing. A loose penny lay on the sculptural commemoration of their relationship. Where are you Brenda and Dirk?

Seal of the Route 66 Association of Missouri. Thelma White, a co-founder, was a retired schoolteacher, librarian and antique dealer who turned the Whitehall Mercantile into a kind of visitors center for Route 66 tourists. Click on the image to enlarge.

West of Springfield to Halltown, old U.S. 66, now Highway 266, runs parallel to I-44 a few miles north. A short distance after exit 58 the interstate bends southwest. A mile from 44 on blacktop Z, which exits at 58, is Halltown, which unlike many bypassed burgs on the Mother Road still functions as a community due to its propitious access to the new highway.

No longer do “15 or 20 establishments line both sides of the highway here: gas stations, cafes, antique shops, stores,” as Rittenhouse described. Today there is a barbershop and the celebrated Whitehall Antiques, a fixture on the Route 66 tour. Thelma White, who opened the store in 1985 and co-founded the Route 66 Association of Missouri, died, but the emporium of antiques, collectibles, and Route 66 souvenirs is still open.

Twenty years ago, when we tore up the back roads looking for underpriced antiques, there were more shops in Halltown. It was too close to the interstate and the swarms of California pickers who were our main competition for good old stuff could access it easily. We never spent a dime in Halltown, but remember how cordial Thelma was.

Click on any image for a slide show.

Old 66 plunged down the Main Street of Halltown, Missouri. The façade of the famed Whitehall Mercantile has been recently replaced.

Front porch of the Whitehall Mercantile.

The commercial buildings of Halltown are generally maintained, even if unoccupied. A few, like the barbershop, are active.

What the small white structure once was we haven’t a clue. Beside it is a foundation with a larger footprint.

t seems the real estate business is good in Halltown. The frame houses are reasonably priced and the interstate provides a twenty-minute access for Springfield workers.

Halltown has a more vital infrastructure than many small towns. The churches and volunteer fire department are in kept-up structures.

At the west end of Halltown are several empty buildings that were once antique stores. They are sufficiently venerable to provide photo ops. At my next stop I would encounter the motorcyclists going over the distant hill. Their identity was a surprise.

Hooked on Iffy Taste, Souvenirs

THE BASKET KING: A ROADSIDE SOUVENIR ENTERPRISE FROM THE PAST

October 6, 2014 • 0 Comments

The Basket’s King’s long emporium is on the south side of highway 54, about 10 miles west of Camdenton, Missouri. This is a road traveled by many Lake of the Ozarks tourists. (click to enlarge)

Delmar D. Davis has been purveying souvenirs to Lake of the Ozarks tourists since 1947. His long, crowded gift shop features white oak baskets made locally. This is a dying craft according to Davis as labor costs make them non-competitive with imports. His store is filled with graniteware, cookbooks, wooden decoupage plaques of wolves and eagles, Frankoma pottery, and out-of-date hillbilly calendars. This combination of authentic folk baskets and tasteless novelties may seem incongruous, but we’ve encountered it before in our survey of American rusticity.

Although Davis’s current stock of locally made hickory baskets is extensive, he told us there were few makers left these days. His crafters can make more money at a job. His prices are reasonable, and don’t include a folk-craft premium though they are authentic old time type Ozark type baskets.

It is a bit disconcerting to find jokey hillbilly, made in Taiwan, novelties just across the aisle from classic pioneer crafts, and we have a high tolerance for such incongruities. It’s a central tenet of our HYPERCOMMON theory that as America’s popular culture evolved without the constraints of high culture it gleefully mixes kitsch and things with esthetic merit indiscriminately.

We bought this attractive small hickory basket for less than $20. (click to enlarge)

Originally souvenirs were artifacts made by exotic peoples brought back by explorers. In the early days of tourism most souvenirs were items made to sell, but had some resemblance to local craft traditions. Global trade opened the door to the importation of low cost trinkets made in developing countries. Purveyors of locally made souvenirs, like the Basket King, are rare these days. Art and demonstration crafts are still produced here and there in vacationland but they carry a prohibitive price for the souvenir trade, and do not always have a heritage tie-in.

Delmar D. Davis, a sailor in World War II and pioneer souvenir seller in the Lake of the Ozarks area, is an engaging personality. Notice to documentary filmmakers – the Basket King would make a great subject.

Davis’s billboards are distinctive. If you don’t catch all the writing as you speed down the highway, don’t worry. Another one will soon come in view

Of course, Davis Baskets has a “your face here” cutout painted plywood hillbilly. In fact, there are several. Lake of the Ozarks never promoted its indigenous population as much as Branson. But hillbillies weren’t completely unknown as a theme either, especially in the 1950s.

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