Peter A. Clarke | June 26, 2019
On March 3rd of this year, President Bush signed an Executive Order, No. #13287 called “Preserve America.” Maybe you’ve heard his wife, Laura, talk about it in her speeches. With all the press attention given to Iraq, the war on terror, the tax cut debates in Congress, and all the other things going on, this action certainly didn’t make front page news, except maybe at the National Park Service. It certainly didn’t really register on me – and probably most other Americans – until this week, when we celebrate another Independence Day.
Driving alone in mid-summer 2003, along a rural western highway – void of radio stations, and even on-coming traffic – sets the mind to thinking. Did I make a mistake choosing a two-lane desert route over the more familiar well-populated Interstate? Are there even any gas stations along here? Am I lost? Is this the America the Bush’s want us to preserve? At first, I didn’t think so.
But before my trip, I finished reading Arthur King Peters’ wonderful book, Seven Trails West, which deals with the incredible migration of Americans across the Western plains in the first half of the 19th Century. So, on this lonely road, I got to thinking about the time exactly 200 years ago this week when another President, Thomas Jefferson, signed another document which, perhaps unbeknownst to him, would have far-reaching significance for all of us.
That document, effecting the Louisiana Purchase, literally doubled the size of his young nation and shortly thereafter, the President sent two intrepid young men on an historic journey to explore and map that territory — some of which I’m now driving through — and, hopefully, find a “Northwest Passage” water route from the east to the Pacific Ocean. But, haven’ t Parks and National Monuments already preserved what’s important in our vast country? Maybe not entirely.
As I cross over the Snake River a few times in Idaho, I remember that Meriwether Lewis and William Clark didn’t find that route to the Pacific. But their explorations did trigger what Peters calls “probably the largest voluntary mass migration of human beings in history,” — “common folk” seeking a better life for themselves and their families.
More than sixty-five years later, after the Pony Express doubled the speed of written communications across the country — and then the stringing of a lone telegraph wire across the prairie to ” wild” San Francisco put them out of business — a civil war nearly tore the young nation apart, and then, after four years of arduous, dangerous, and expensive construction, the driving of a golden spike into a wooden railroad tie in Utah, finally (symbolically if not actually) tied the nation together, east to west and west to east. Monuments to the Civil War battlefields remain, as well as the ruts of the Oregon and Santa Fe Trails. But, so too, remains the railroad … and the highway.
I’ve crossed that track three times today as I find my way onto U.S. Route 6, a two-lane ribbon of auto road winding through central Nevada, on its, and my, way to California. Seems I don’t miss the Interstate at all; I’m making the same speed and haven’ t seen another car or truck for nearly half an hour! There’ s even a few gas stations along the way, with prices nearly 40 cents per gallon less than along the Interstate and in California! I thought deliveries to rural places cost more to make. What’s going on here?
It all makes me think that after the Transcontinental Railroad was completed, it was even another thirty years or so before a horseless carriage came on the scene, a device most people at the time said would never replace the horse as America’s primary mode of transportation. About that same time, two brothers were tinkering in their bicycle shop with another invention that would ultimately have an even more profound effect on travel across the growing nation, and the globe! This year is also the 100th anniversary of their fateful flight into history. But wasn’t it the roadway that really tied the country together?
Here I am on U.S. Route 6. I think I’ve been here before, but the scenery is different. Deja vu. What I remember is a sea of cars, bumper-to-bumper, on a hot, sticky weekend as my father drives the family DeSoto onto Cape Cod, Massachusetts, en route to Chatham, Yarmouth, Harwich, or some other summertime destination I can’t quite recall. Is this the same Route 6? The sign looks the same.
I stop for the night in Tonopah, Nevada – a hot, dusty town that time seems to have forgotten — except when you get to the far end of Main Street where McDonald’s, Texaco, Subway, and Mini-marts have all merged into an oasis of gas, fast food, and American pie we all recognize. I ask the desk clerk if this is the same Route 6 that I remember from my Massachusetts youth?
“Dunno.” She stares at me blankly. No clue – she’s been in Tonopah all her 19 years, except for trips to Reno with her parents. For her, Route 6 begins at McDonald’s and ends at the ramshackle casino at the other end of town.
Turns out, this IS the same Route 6 I remember from my youth — “The Grand Army of the Republic Memorial Highway.” Bits and pieces of roadway stitched together east-to-west and west-to-east, at first only from Provincetown on the very tip of Cape Cod to Brewster, New York, then extended westward as American grew. In 1937, the American Association of State Highway Officials adopted a uniform numbering system for marking the nation’s main inter-state highways. This one got the number “6” and also was extended in that year from Bishop, California (my destination today) to Long Beach (a distance of 3,652 miles from Provincetown), making it then the longest continuous U.S. route in the country. Unfortunately — due to California’s political trade with the Federal government in the mid-60’s of “highway maintenance funds” for “new freeway funds” – the #6 signs now end at Bishop and it will take some real sleuthing to find the route to Long Beach. I’m not going to try, although I’m told it still can be done. So much for “preserve America.”
But I do think about Lewis and Clark, Orville and Wilbur Wright, and even John Steinbeck’s road trip adventure, Travel ‘s With Charley (his dog), as I make my way to Bishop across the Nevada desert. My own trusty Labrador is curled up on the seat next to me as I talk to myself about the history lesson I’m trying to teach myself and hope my kids may have a chance to learn. “Travels with Maggie”? My next book, perhaps.
Do any of us have any sense about just how difficult it must have been to cross this country before trains, planes, or automobiles? Are we even aware – if we look down from 35,000 feet at 600 mph – of the Tonopah’s, the Crowheart’s, the Basalt’s, the Bishop’s, the Kitty Hawk’s, or the other hundreds of towns, villages, and millions of people down there, coast-to-coast? So, is Provincetown really connected to Long Beach? Maybe it’s the Route 6’s of the country that are worth preserving?
I believe every American should have the chance, at least once in their lifetime, to cross this country – all 3,000 miles plus of it – on the ground by bicycle, on foot, by car, bus, or train. Unfortunately, many of us never go further than a few miles from home, and then it’s only to go shopping, or to the hospital, or perhaps a sporting event. Or if we do, do we really “connect the dots” that make up this wonderful country?
When we do, and if it’s by car or bus, we’re likely to travel on the amazing “limited-access,” four-lane Interstate Highway System, initiated by Congress during the Eisenhower Administration (at the beginning of the Cold War) as a “Defense Highway System” – designed to evacuate cities quickly in the event of nuclear attack! In many stretches of the country, the Interstate Highway routes were simply super-imposed over the U.S. Route system (including some stretches of Route 6). But in most areas, whereas the U.S. routes purposefully ran right through towns and villages, the Interstates were designed to avoid towns and go around cities, all in the name of speed and evacuation. Funny how many of those “evacuation” routes are now clogged, bumper-to-bumper, with traffic barely moving, seemingly 24 hours a day – even without a nuclear attack.
I haven’t been to Provincetown, Massachusetts for years, but I did ride on the Cape Cod Highway just a month ago. I didn’t even notice the Route 6 signs, and don’t think anyone really does – unless they’re navigating a road map to grandma’s house or the Nantucket Ferry Terminal in Hyannis. But I must have seen them, because the number “6”and distinctive shield shape registered in my brain immediately when I saw them again yesterday in Ely, Nevada. It made me conscious and even curious of the heritage and history of this route, and the even bigger stories of Lewis, Clark, Orville, Wilbur, and all those who have gone on before and since.
Besides a mandatory cross-country Road Trip for all Americans, I’d also advocate some additions to the road signs along the way. Let’s start by adding “Long Beach, California 3652 miles” to the Route 6 terminus in Provincetown, and maybe put “Provincetown, Mass. 3652 miles” on a sign someplace in Long Beach, if we can find the start of the Route! Something similar could be added on the first I-80 sign on the George Washington Bridge in New York (e.g. “San Francisco, 2920 miles”) and on the Bay Bridge in San Francisco at the other end of the route (e.g. “George Washington Bridge, Hudson River, New York City — 2920 miles”). Maybe even a longer listing of cities and towns between all the dots – just to remind us of just how vast this amazing country really is – would also remind us of how really connected we are. It might also commemorate all the sacrifices that have been made by explorers, inventors, businessmen, pioneer women, railroad construction crews, and highway engineers to make us so. And, maybe it would help us be aware that our spiritual road often goes beyond just the next exit on the Interstate.
And then, when the “Preserve America” team starts funding projects for preservation, they might start with the ranches, people, buildings, and pavement of old Route 6, and the other original roadways, all of which can still be “living” ribbons of connectivity to our heritage and history. Or, simply fund my Great National Road Trip idea for every American, sort of a domestic Outward-Bound experience for everyone. We could all pick up some trash along the way too, along with our history and geography lessons.
Maybe if every one of us had this chance, we’d realize how lucky we are to live in this great country , and how our similarities and our differences – reflected in the fabric of the different towns and peoples who live along Route 6 – or I-80, 90, 40, 10, etc. – or the Union Pacific, the Great Northern, AMTRAK, or Greyhound routes – make us who we are. If there’s enough funding, we should probably add side-trips to Alaska and Hawaii for all Americans too!
Happy Anniversary Meriwether, William, Orville, and Wilbur. You really started something. And thank you, Thomas Jefferson and Laura and George W., from Maggie and me. Now, let’s try to find Long Beach. The mountains of Bishop are getting too high. I think I can just see the ocean in the distance … or, is that Cape Cod?
And the fireworks? I’m not lost at all. I’m on Route 6 and it’s the 4th of July!
