A Cherished Cafe Awakens From Ruins

My adventures on Route 66 in July all of a sudden had me on a quest for a simple and inexpensive diner that had been buried and forgotten for several decades. It was about 8:30 in the morning when I pulled onto the easy streets of Atlanta, Illinois. The downtown area is really friendly. There is even a painted smile on the water tower. Drivers would pass me on the streets nodding and waving withcheerful expressions. This cozy little settlement just oozes with that feeling of community. It’s just “southern” enough in Illinois to immediately recognize the “accent” and the “hospitality.” There’s plenty of interesting history here such as an old library that is being turned into a museum, a historic clock tower, a grain elevator from 1903 and a traditional mechanic shop that claims to be an “official” Route 66 mechanic. I also enjoyed several fascinating murals painted on the brick walls all around the town. What a fun place to be! As I pulled over to the side of the road, I looked back over my left shoulder and there it was. Palm’s Grill Café, right across from the giant statue of a Paul Bunyan holding a big ole hot dog. This place was once a flourishing stop along the classic route. The original café spent more than 34 years in the business, even serving as the Greyhound bus stop. But, when I-55 was constructed, a lot of things changed. Traffic bypassed Atlanta, the crowds faded and the grills ran out of heat. After the 1960’s, the café was vacated. Everything was in complete disrepair. It was a crumbling mess and bowing away from the foundation. Not anymore. It has now been fully restored and ready for customers. When I first got out of my car, I walked across the street and headed towards ‘The Grill,’ as the locals call it. I was greeted with waves and that motion to “come on in,” as I peaked in through the window. I couldn’t resist. A key feature that I noticed right away was the restored 30 foot long countertop. In the original café, a long slab of polished marble greeted customers as they pulled up to the stool. This one was a laminated marble pattern but it looked great and was a clever way to save money. The old cash register and phone, as well as a vintage refrigerator, were all there to make the cafe appear as it did during its 1930s heyday. There was even an old-fashioned radio plugged in behind the counter that only played oldies music. It was amazing how I felt like I took a step back in time. I was ready to experience the way it used to taste in an old café. As I hopped onto the chair, the waitress was quite enthusiastic to serve me. I ordered coffee and a short stack of pancakes. My breakfast was delicious. A few older couples were seated as well, just talking amongst themselves. I could tell they were local. I overheard lot of chatting about neighborhood happenings about “this person” and “the weather.” I of course, stood out with my camera and my notebook. I was an obvious tourist. “Can I get you anything else? We make our own pies here. We have peach, blueberry, banana cream and coconut cream. They’re very popular,” the waitress told me. Another favorite she recommended was the blue plate special, consisting of meat and two or three side dishes on a divided blue plate. I told her that I would be back another time and had to get going. Another remarkable feature I noticed on the way out of the building was the classic neon sign over the door, complete with Greyhound bus signage. After nearly four decades of sleep, this place was alive again. The spirit of the original Palm’s Grill Café was captured brilliantly. New life was breathed into Atlanta via the new café. The vibe at this revived diner is absolutely positive. I am thrilled that I stopped here on my Route 66 journey. I highly recommend that others do the same. You can’t argue with good food and good conversations, even ones that are overheard.

Pig Hip Story On Route 66

I was driving along on Route 66. It was a nice day and quiet on the highway. Only a few birds could be heard chirping away. Anyways, I recently left the town of Lincoln and soon I entered the town of Broadwell. On my right I noticed a sign and saw what used to be called The Pig Hip Restaurant. There was a stone marker and a mural on a sign post that looked interesting. I was reading about how this place used to draw large crowds and was known for it’s famous Barbeque. I walked over to the house and I looked through the screened in porch and saw an old man sleeping in a chair. For some reason I took his picture and then I walked inside. As the door opened, I jolted the man from the chair but he had a big smile on his face. He invited me in to sit down and he starts telling me stories. His name is Ernie Edwards. I had never heard of him before. He’s actually pretty famous. He’s a little heavy set and has a bandage wrapped around his right knee. He has a little bit of trouble getting up and down from a chair. He is extremely friendly and talkative.
He started the restaurant business in the 1940’s making fries and pork sandwiches. The sandwiches could be bought for 15 cents in those days. When the place opened, he had three tables, a bar and $150 of borrowed money. His major competitor at the time was the owner of the original Steak N Shake. They eventually became friends after much debate as to who owned the building where he started his restaurant. He quit the business in 1991. He figured that was enough time and had no intentions of letting it continue. Several years later they made it into a museum, with the help of many volunteers. Unfortunately, in 2007 the place burnt to the ground. He and his third wife (first two wives passed away) were driving home one day and noticed all the smoke and they were listening to the news on the radio about it. Then he realized when they got much closer to home that something smelled awfully familiar. He laughed about it though. It was an electrical fire, the fire department said. Ernie blames the cat.
The first story he told me was when he turned 90 (he’s 92 now) they made a 40 pound cake for him. He had met Col Sanders once (of Kentucky Fried Chicken) and that’s what they did for him when he turned 90. So he wanted the same thing. I said to him that he definitely does not look 92. He said he didn’t feel it either. I guess he dared someone to make the cake and to his surprise they did. It was very heavy! He laughed about that as well. Hundreds of people showed up at his home for his birthday despite the museum burning down. He was overwhelmed.
One late night, back in the 1940’s, a young drunk kid came stumbling into the restaurant and wanted to pay Ernie 20 bucks to drive him to Chicago (which was several hours away). He said that he couldn’t because he has to take care of the restaurant and there’s just no way he would be able to. Ernie told him to sleep in his car and wait for a soldier or a truck driver to come passing through who may be headed that way. He was sure that the kid would get a ride for free. So the kid lit up with that drunken smile and said, “Hey, that’s what I’ll do!” Sure enough he got his ride to Chicago later that night after a truck came plowing through and knocked over the garbage cans out in front first.
There was another store across the street that Ernie would stop in to visit. He told me he was a smart business man when this idea came to him. He would buy several coca colas from the store and stock them at his restaurant. One day a gentleman comes in and noticed them behind the counter. He turned to Ernie and said that he was really thirsty and he would pay just about anything for a coca cola. He thought about it and sold it to him for much more than what he originally paid for. That same gentlemen made his business selling cough syrup made from the coca colas he kept buying from Ernie. Of course in those days a lot of folks probably just assumed that those drinks were still made with cocaine.
Other things he mentioned to me were that he met Al Capone who loaned him 50 bucks, perhaps for the restaurant start up. He must have paid him back eventually, maybe a free dinner for him and his boys. He salvaged some memorabilia from the recent fire like plaques and pictures of volunteers who helped him create the museum. He has several kids who are all successful. He also met one of the actors from the TV show M.A.S.H. who wanted to buy one of his menus. Ernie refused to sell and the guy tried to take legal action towards him. That eventually ended. He shared a lot of interesting memories with me. Whenever a married woman came into his restaurant he would get his picture taken with them (without the husbands) while wearing a chef’s hat. It was just his thing. He had photos of some of those shots hanging on the wall. There’s a register that Ernie used to record the hundreds of marriage ceremonies he performed as Justice of the Peace during the 1950’s.
He was glad that I came by to talk to him. He said that I made his day and wished more people would stop by to visit. It was very memorable and special for me as well. I shook his hand and went on my way. I am glad I paid a visit to the old “coot”, a name that a news reporter gave him when he started to bad mouth the Chicago Cubs one time and printed that in the newspaper. I guess the story was a bit exaggerated. There’s always something unforgettable and funny happening with old Ernie. I asked him before I left how he came up with the name of his restaurant. He said, “One day, a hungry farmer came into the diner and saw some fresh baked ham on the stove. He pointed to the ham and said, ‘Give me a slice of that pig hip!’ and well, the rest is history you might say.”

Ghost Towns and Route 66

Lately I have been fascinated by the allure of Route 66 and Ghost Towns. There is something pretty awesome about being out on the open road never knowing what you're gonna see or do next. Sometimes its better to be neither "here" nor "there." It's the "in-between" moments where the good stuff is at. Just "being" out on the road is the fun. There doesn't always have to be a destination. As for the ghost towns, they're ominous and creepy for starters. Like something out of a Stephen King book. I tend to do more blogging soon. I'm taking next week off from work and I plan to get my "kicks" down in Joliet, Dwight, Pontiac, and if time allows, a place called Funk's Grove (which is the only ghost town on the Illinois portion of Route 66). I will tell you all about my 2 day journey next week. Here are a couple of photo's for now...

"united together"

I'd like to connect with the roots

of the Harlem Renaissance

Hey man you ever hear of

Langston Hughes?

A Negro who was

neither black nor white

he wrote some poems

one of them was called

cross

white old man

black old mother

lived and wrote

in Harlem

Have you ever heard Bird on a sax?

Jazz....

Oh so truly American

What was a Negro?

Is he the essential American?

Out there always finding solace

his meaning out there

on the streets of Harlem

abstract morality

You bind together

in the village

the bronx

Harlem

You have something in common

A lot of you believe

in the same things

live and let live

you can be happy

without becoming a millionaire

maybe you feel

like you belong there

it's the general feeling

a brotherhood

awakening race

consciousness

a cultural movement

rebirth

New York City

the center of change

then

accomplishments then

created a livelihood now

an interest

in Negro life

and power to the people

it must have been insane

a revolution of thoughts

you are the roots

of possibility

and i am inspired.

Why Poetry?

Why Poetry?


It always brings me back to my youth
Tasting an apple for the very first time
Smelling the fresh air of the summer wind
As your friend gives you an underdog on the swing set at recess
I loved those days, it always felt like summer
The first ride in the car going down to Florida
For summer vacation
Capturing memories and dreams on paper
Why poetry? Because it has everything that real life
lacks. Absolute freedom like you couldn’t imagine
A child is poetry
Because poetry is open-minded and confused
My poetry is confused by me sometimes
Both children and poems are vulnerable

Sadness and joy
Laughter and anger
Greed and envy

Unlimited feelings and emotions become adjectives
In poetry
Thoughts stray constantly
Without boundaries
There’s too much structure
In America sometimes
Not enough innocence
Why poetry? Everyone has something to say
Our souls must roam free.
Throughout human history as our relatives
Have had to face the shocking and alarming fact
That we have no clue who we are
Or where
We are à going
In this maze called life!
The people of “power”
The ones in command?
You know?
The religious
The political
The educational establishment?
They have tried to sooth us
By giving us order, rules, and a set of laws
Instructing us and shaping our minds
To accept their view of reality
What about my view of reality?
That is “why poetry” for me
I still want to hug a bag full of sweets
And run around wild chasing fireflies
Once again I return to my youth
Helping my dad out in the garage
Or baseball games with the neighborhood kids
At the lot across the street
I take steps forwards
And sleepwalk backwards
To the small days of early life
Why poetry? I want to think for myself
I question authority
and the rules it provides
Poetry is not structure
We must keep talking
And let loose the power of our mind's eye
Put ourselves into a state of open-mindedness
Allow room for chaos and confusion
Weren’t things better when we were young and confused?
I want to live dangerously
And yet remain calm, clear and observant
I’m no fool, I see what goes on all around me
So I write because its how I feel
That is “why poetry” for me.

Today's opinion of the USA

What does America mean?


Duty calls
Brother dies
Diversity celebrated
Riots in the street
History and variety
Faults too
I believe in its greatness, however
Vote and be informed
Or misinformed
Equal rights for all
Opinions everywhere
Fly our flags
Burning the flags
Sing the anthem
Mock one another
Full of pride!
Gay pride parades ruined
By hate crimes
Car bombs during a nice picnic
Let’s appreciate its great beauty and
Throw a pop can out the window
Men and women are equal
According to the law
But there’s domestic violence
everywhere
Stand up and march
Someone’s going to spit on you
So many natural splendors in the USA,
Religious beliefs, and
Economic opportunities
We’re uniquely free
To rob a liquor store
Or shoot someone in the face
Guns are legal after all
We’ve come here from so many places,
Terrorists living among us
So many spaces,
Visit the ghettos
And survive a night
Gang initiations on the streets
Yet we live so well together
We can enjoy being ourselves
Smoking crack,
Vandalizing neighborhoods,
Go skydiving,
Make pancakes for breakfast
We’re not always perfect
But we’re definitely free
We are many people but
As Americans
We are one
One kingdom of exceptional philosophy and culture,
Matchless politics yet a divided house
The economy is in the toilet
Social values are corrupted by Hollywood
Beliefs are taking God out of text books
Institutions that desensitize us
These distinguish us from others?
Our way of life
We are perhaps the only source of hope left in the world
It’s sad really
And the clock is ticking
It’s our spirits and our souls that can keep us alive
Familiarize yourself to this way of life
Love this country above all others
Being American requires more than merely living
In this country
Or speaking English,
Or obeying the law,
Or even holding a job!
Sure, that’s a very good start!
Where’s the compassion, the balance,
Or the gardening? Not enough
But we cannot stray too far from the lines
Of values
Hate must not take over
The outside cannot destroy us
Or we are doomed
And if we weaken, let down our guard
And lose our freedoms,
Then it will only be because
We did it to ourselves…
God Bless America!

Ball employees ride for cure

Ball employees ride for cure
By Christopher Noe

The MS Tour de Farms took place on Saturday June 13th and Sunday June 14th in Dekalb County near the NIU campus. This fundraiser bike ride is devoted to finding a cure for Multiple Sclerosis. There were four of us from Ball Horticultural in West Chicago at this extraordinary occasion; Pat Senne, Brenda Kehm, Denielle DuChaine, and myself, Chris Noe. After several months of training, we each rode close to 75 miles over a two day period. The first day of this event was a cold and rainy one. The severe downpour, without a doubt, made the course extra challenging, yet we still rode on. Day two was a much different experience. The clear blue skies and the warmer air made the intense labor of day one worth it. We peddled through lovely scenery of rolling hills and gorgeous farmlands in Northern Illinois. Riding our bikes during an event like this on both days requires will, fortitude, and selflessness. With the wind blowing in the final stretch to the finish, there were people cheering, cowbells ringing and bubbles blowing; it was thrilling. Seeing the few people with MS, in wheelchairs, clapping their hands for us at the end of the ride brought tears to my eyes and certainly made it all worthwhile. I would like to extend a sincere appreciation for those of you who financially supported us to reach our goals this year. We can’t wait to do it again next June!