Finished loading. Started about nine. Had lunch in Bedford, PA. Reached New Concord, Ohio campground about 5. Tim fished. Mike and Doug swam. Cooked supper. Cold and damp.
Marge Binder, June 16, 1969
And…we’re off! 357 miles was a long one; Mom aimed for 300 on average. Other than that, this seems like a typical roadtrip day: drive, eat, camp, fish, swim, eat. But don’t be lulled into routine just yet. No snakes have been captured, pee jars toppled or poison ivy suffered. And Abe Lincoln is still dead.
We’ve only just begun!
(Check out Maw’s reflection!)
Just occurred to me that this anniversary starts on Father’s Day in 2019. And Dad will be featured in the narrative in a few weeks, when we meet up with him in California for the west coast swing. But for now. it’s all about Mom!
Wet tarp gave us trouble again. Got a 10AM start and stopped for breakfast. Reached the Whitneys in Cincinnati about 2 and talked til 7. Had a lot of trouble getting the tent up at Conway’s party barn. Finally the owner helped us. Rained in the night.
Marge Binder, June 17, 1969
I found this ad (below) in the 1969 Woodall’s Guide. Sounds idyllic and about as well-equipped for the times as we’ll see anywhere on this trip. I didn’t realize until now that we missed out on square dancing, but I’m sure we made the most of the flush toilets.
I know Maw was doing her best with the tent, but I imagine we three boys were just kind of standing around waiting for dinner. I suppose Tim pitched in. Also nice to know that the owner was willing to help out. Near as I can tell, Conaway’s no longer exists. Sounds like a nice place and nice people.
America’s “main street” Route 66 was still thriving in 1969, but it was slowly being paved over by I-40. I don’t really remember it from our trip, but I’ve been told that, much like Marilyn Monroe, it’s reputation has been inflated and romanticized beyond recognition. Even so, you can still enjoy some of the kitsch the next time you choose to drive across the country.
And you can forever enjoy the stylings of Nat King Cole.
Road Tripping: By the Numbers
Here’s what happened each day along the way, according to Mom’s diary. I have a feeling there was even more swimming and fishing, medical issues and maintenance on the car and tent. But Maw is not one to kvetch.
Tim caught a nice mess of crappies and cleaned them before we left. Drove through Missouri. Had a tailgate picnic around Springfield. Set up for the weekend on Grand Lake, the Lake of the Cherokees, near Grove, Oklahoma.
Marge Binder, June 20, 1969
You can check out the latest from Grand Lake here.
Did the washing. Grove has 10-cent double dip ice cream cones. Windy. The sky turned green about noon and it blew down the tent. Had to get a pole fixed. The boys swam. Barbecued chicken and made s’mores.
Marge Binder, June 21, 1969
This day I do remember. The tent was not small or lightweight, so it was quite a violent sight when it blew apart. We were still in the first week of this trip so I’m impressed (and inspired) that Maw kept moving west, seemingly undaunted.
And I love that Maw chose to chronicle the 10-cent double dips in Grove; it’s amazing what discount ice cream can do to a person’s disposition.
This graphical piece from the Washington Post is pretty spectacular. It doesn’t stretch as far back as the 60s, but you can see how increasingly robust are the nation’s extreme weather events. Looking back, I’m amazed that we didn’t encounter more instances of violent weather crossing the midwest. (These days it seems like lightning, tornados and flooding are a daily occurrence, at least according to our nation’s Doppler-armed and sensationalized meteorologists.)
Hot and windy. Slept in the car because storms were all around us but none hit here. Had breakfast at Perry’s in Grove. Washed the car, trailer and tent. The boys swam a long time. Tim caught some channel catfish.
Marge Binder, June 22, 1969
There are a number of references Mom makes in her diary to businesses that no longer exist, not even on the internet.
In putting together this blog series, I reached out to various chambers of commerce and historical societies in places like Grove, OK and Lomita, CA without much luck. I also scoured Pinterest sites for like-minded amateur historians. That’s been fun but largely fruitless. And to those who assumed that this project involved me physically retracing the steps and stops of the 1969 journey I say: I’m obsessive to learn more, but not that obsessive.
If you’re interested to learn more about Grove, OK in the 21st Century, click here. And enjoy this postcard that captures Grove’s colorful history.
In my 54 years I have never met anyone who actually liked the Grand Canyon. It’s a place you have to visit, of course. You stand on the edge, make some jokes about falling in, take some pictures and head back to the car. (These days you might also attempt a selfie, an activity that has been thinning the Gen-Y herd quite aggressively here in 2019). Then you drive for hours back to whatever highway you’d been on and put the whole dusty encounter behind you.
As a courtesy, past visitors don’t bad-mouth it to others who are thinking of visiting. Let them undertake the same aforementioned actions and draw the same lame conclusion for themselves. Shhh.
Got a very early start with no packing to do. The kids slept again later but I drove 350 miles. Stopped at Flagstaff for groceries, a picnic and Mike’s shot. Set up in a KOA at Williams and drove 60 (+60) miles to see the Grand Canyon. Windy and dirty.
Marge Binder, June 26, 1969
Here’s your chance to own a campground!
There weren’t many KOAs (Kampgrounds of America) back in the day, and Mom was keen to camp there whenever budgets afforded and a hot shower beckoned. Guess what: Today, you can own your very own KOA. Go on, sounds awesome! I’ll stop by. On my way to a Hyatt or a Marriott.
Had trouble pulling stakes & had to leave several. Drove down that terrible road. Doug threw up his crackers and kool-aid when we got to Azuza. Visited Uncle Russ & Aunt Marge. Had lunch. Phoned campgrounds. Set up at Lomita trailer park. Visited the Pacific.
That “terrible road.”
This is the road Mom references. Looking at it, I’m feeling the kool-aid and crackers gurgling up even now!
Seriously, what could go wrong when you load a four-year-old up with crackers and Kool-Aid, stuff him in the back seat and then traverse this serpentine nightmare?
As I recall (which might have been a dream), I erupted forth with a smooth pink sloosh into the front passenger seat, right down Tim’s back.
Ever since, Mom considered this episode a highlight and a low point of the trip and my childhood. To this day, Mom refers to this moment by its exact geography: “25 miles north of Azusa.”
In my head: “Wait, I’m pretty sure that dude is dead. He definitely has some issues with mobility and speech. Poor Abraham Lincoln. Let’s go ride the train.”
Seriously, this show freaked me out. We boys had been immersed in American history in our few years in Virginia, so I was one confused little 4-year-old.
I don’t remember much more of that day at Disneyland. I was too small to ride the Matterhorn (something I finally checked off my list 25 years later). I have the feeling my first day at Disney was a strictly A-Ticket affair.
FUN FACT: E-Tickets Matter!
Those old Disney ticket books could be worth big coin! Even if you just have a few individual tickets from way back when, Guest Relations at the parks can calculate what they’re worth and pay you on the spot. If you have complete books in good condition, Ebay can calculate what they’re worth, and the sum total might be worth college tuition to a decent, in-state school.
Had a time getting Mike’s allergy shot but finally managed. Picked up Jim and got to Disneyland about 12:30. Had pancakes etc and visited everything. Stayed until 9 o’clock fireworks. Big crowd.
Marge Binder, July 3, 1969
Disney and Life
This was my first Disney park experience. I wouldn’t return to Disneyland until 2001.
In the meantime, I was introduced to Walt Disney World just a few months after it opened in 1971. As I do the math, that was a scant two years after my Lincoln freak-out. No matter, WDW became a big part of my youth; Mom and Dad arranged for the Family to spend every other Christmas there for years. More fond memories of roadtrips and camping and so much more. (Blog-worthy, yes, but not nearly as epic as this journey we’re on.)
When I worked at WDW in the 80s, in a number of capacities, I thought of my Mom whenever I dealt with families in distress. They’d planned, they were protecting family, they just wanted to enjoy the experience, but sometimes things don’t pan out as they’d hoped. If I had the ability to make things right (which I most often did in Guest Relations), I would, because I know what it would mean to Mom.
That empathy made me really good in those WDW jobs, and I think it affects my approach to work and people to this day.
Clamming, Pismo style. I guess it all can’t be surf ‘n’ sun.
Maw still hums this song every now and again. The data agrees (see below), at least for July. We learned a very different lesson back in ’69.
Speaking with Maw a few weeks ago she recalled this day in detail. I added up all of the challenges: thunderstorms, heat, tent camping, laundry, more rain, power outage with soaked clothes. That must have been the worst! Mom was like, meh.
Actually had thunder and rain – then a fairly hot day. Went to San Luis Obispo to buy Tim a new rod. They swam. Another shower in the evening and the power went out just as I was finishing the laundry.
Before we get to the hippies, there’s another thing that happened this day. I got separated from the family at Fishermann’s Wharf. I have visual memories of the terror: strange crowds and cars and noise and movement in every direction; and no Mom! Maw says she was equally freaked.
We were reunited soon enough because I followed my parents’ advice: “If you get lost, just stay put and we’ll find you.” Or maybe they taught me that after this episode. Anyway, it makes sense.
Hippies were everywhere by 1969, but the Bay Area was still the epicenter of the peace and love action. They seemed nice enough to me, a little dirty and odiferous. For Dad, though, hippies represented a culture counter to his own. He was an establishment man and a veteran of WWII. As the editor-in-chief of ARMY magazine, he was working with a positive narrative on the events in Vietnam. It’s a topic we hashed out many years later; much to my fascination, Dad was both clear-eyed and clear of conscience.
And for all his disparagement, I think Dad liked being around them at Bootjack. I think he found them fun-loving and non-threatening.
We have a beautiful view and the road isn’t too bad. Went to Tiburon and then S.F. Had fish at Fisherman’s Wharf and saw several ships & a museum. Took a cable car & taxi ride. Many hippies at Bootjack.
Marge Binder, July 15, 1969
Dad also liked to recount an event from this day that Mom glosses over in her diary. As he tells it, we were preparing to jump aboard a cable car. While he waited for one to slow, he saw Mom in his periphery hop aboard the runner with me dangling from one arm. Somehow he managed to get aboard, along with Tim and Mike
Marge Binder's Epic Adventure 