June 10, 1999
Of all the interstates, I have a special affection for U.S. 80 because it leads directly to the George Washington Bridge and home. I prefer the back roads to the superhighways but there are still many things to witness on this vast, high-speed stretch of asphalt and concrete.
I was traveling on U.S. 80 through Nevada to Salt Lake City, Utah, because I am flying home on June 14 and the Salt Lake City Airport offers non-stops to J.F.K. Airport in New York. When you make this trip, look for these roadway amusements:
1. Commercial trucks pulling three trailers moving along at the legal speed, 75 m.p.h. Very scary when strong cross winds are blowing. (I saw two accidents involving big trucks in the two days I travelled this route.)
2. Brothel broadcasts on the C.B. radio. The girls working in roadside "ranches" talk to the passing truckers, their main customers, trying to lure them in for a visit. One C.B. conversation went like this:
Trucker: Hey, honey. Do you have any cold, mean, ugly women working there?
Working Girl: No, dear. All our girls are beautiful. Why would you want such a girl anyway?
Trucker: Because I'm homesick and I want to be with someone who reminds me of my wife.
3. The Bonneville Salt Flats, near the border of Nevada and Utah. This is the spot where the current land-speed record of over 600 m.p.h. was set by a guy sitting in a rocket with wheels. The salt flats stretch for miles and gave me an unobstructed view of a fierce thunderstorm in the mountains 50 miles away.
4. The Great Salt Lake. It looks like any other lake and I look forward to taking a swim there to see if I really do float like a cork.
June 12, 1999
The impact of the Mormons on Salt Lake City is seen even in the way the streets are laid out. Every street in every direction is numbered according to its distance from Temple Square, the absolute center of the city. For example, 1300 South is 13 blocks south of Temple Square.
This small but growing and very clean city was started by Brigham Young, a man who was a polygamy superstar (he had 27 wives.) The most entertaining Salt Lake City story about polygamy involved Martha Hughes Cannon, her husband's 4th wife, who went to Pennsylvania to earn her medical degree and then returned to administer to the sick. She ran for the State Senate in 1896 and beat her opponent (who just happened to be her husband!) The Mormons found it necessary to ban polygamy because Utah would not be admitted as the 46th state in the union if the practice was continued. Men with multiple wives had to keep wife #1 and leave the rest (even if wife #3 was his favorite.)
Nestled up against the Wasatch Mountains, Salt Lake City is only a few miles from some of the best ski areas in the country. The 2002 Winter Olympics will be held here and there is a building boom going on. The City seems to be surviving in spite of the scandal concerning bribes used to get the Olympic Committee members to select Salt Lake.
The Mormon Tabernacle, within the confines of Temple Square, is the home of the famous Mormon Tabernacle Choir. A pipe organ concert is offered each day at noon. The organist gives a quick presentation to demonstrate the acoustics in the domed Tabernacle. He drops a straight pin on a wooden bench and the sound travels clearly throughout the huge building. He then plays this, the 6th largest organ in the world, providing religious, classical, and popular selections. The sounds, from delicate and gentle to loud and powerful, give the listener chills.
November 5, 1999
The Museum of Appalachia, just north of Knoxville, Tennessee, is similar to dozens of other early-American reproduction villages found throughout the U.S. Rustic cabins and barns. A blacksmith's shop. A one-room schoolhouse. You've seen it before.
The thing that makes this place different is the richness of the musical heritage of the region. There are unique exhibits of hand-made banjos and violins. There are memorials to the famous country music performers who come from the area. The best tribute to the music of Appalachia is delivered by the live performers and my favorite is Jim Russell.
Jim sits by the fireplace in one of the ancient cabins and plays his fiddle for visitors. He is a retired architect who designed some of the newer buildings that house museum exhibits. He grew up, married, and raised his children in the area. His wife died a few years ago and his sons live far away, so he enjoys these encounters with people each day.
Jim asks about the home state of each visitor and had a story for me about a New Yorker he met in France during WWII. The man's name was Gallagher. Jim told, in his thick East Tennessee drawl, that he enjoyed listening to Gallagher's Brooklyn accent as the New Yorker explained how a man could tell if someone came from Tennessee. "All the guys from Tennessee," said Gallaher, "have a dent in the bridge of the nose from drinking home brew out of a fruit jar."
November 6, 1999
I drove into Nashville, Tennessee, and tuned my radio to "Oldies 96.3" so I could listen to the Beach Boys and the Beatles and the Big Bopper. This was not the kind of preparation one would expect from someone entering the Mecca of country music and about to visit that brand of music's cathedral, The Grand Ole Opry.
I had a ticket for the Friday evening performance. An early arrival gave me time wander through the Opry's Hall of Fame, filled with the spangled outfits and the donated instruments of famous country music performers. Dolly Parton's dress without Dolly in it just didn't match my recollection of her. Most of the displays were interesting, especially those outlining the Opry's 75 year broadcast history.
You see, the Grand Ole Opry is not a concert. It's a radio broadcast on Nashville's WSM-AM, and those 75 years make it the nation's longest running live broadcast. The show is two and a half hours long broken into half hour segments. Each segment is hosted by a famous country personality who introduces the performers. Each performer or band does one or two songs. About 20 of these singers and bands make for a long night, too long for this reporter who left at the beginning the last half hour. In spite of the fact that I truly enjoyed many of the talented musicians, my country music threshold of pain comes at about two hours.
I did get a kick out of the commercials, read by an announcer who was spotlighted at a podium right on stage with the performers. He did a wonderful job highlighting the merits of "Country Bob's All-Purpose Sauce" and "Dickies Bib Overalls."
November 12, 1999
The U.S. is varicose-veined with the interstate highway system, a concrete and asphalt network which brings truckers and travelers together in a high-speed, frenzied race from point "a" to point "b." I try to avoid the interstates as much as possible and use roads that expose the driver to this country's beauty and have no regard for providing quick movement. Such a road is the Natchez Trace.
The Trace is a 450 mile long parkway administered by the National Park Service. It meanders from Nashville, Tennessee, to Natchez, Mississippi. The speed limit is 45-50 m.p.h. Commercial traffic is forbidden. Drivers in a hurry avoid it, so there are no traffic jams. In fact, there is hardly any traffic at all.
Roadside exhibits reveal the history of the Trace. In 1733 the French knew the land well enough to map it and showed an Indian trail running from Natchez to the northeast. The trail became an important wilderness road for the movement of travelers and commercial goods. Parts of the original road and some of the structures built to serve early travelers are still evident.
The best attribute of the present road is its serene beauty. Trees, deer, wild turkeys, no 18-wheel trucks. Farms, grassy fields, shady swamps, no commuters on cell-phones. Picnic areas and no Wal-Marts. Traveling the trace is a slow, tension-free joy.
November 13, 1999
It was like a 4th of July fireworks show. They gave you some oohs and aahs and then a finale that sent chills up your spine.
The extravaganza billed as "The Last Great Airshow of this Millennium" was presented at Pensacola Naval Air Station, the home of the famous Blue Angels. I had never been to an air show and was lucky enough to be camping in Summerdale, Alabama, about 35 miles from Pensacola. I was one of about 20,000 who would leave the air base with good memories and a stiff neck (from looking up for four hours.)
The show began with an breath-taking F-16 demo (650 m.p.h., upside-down, 50 feet from the ground!), and was followed with a jet-powered Peterbilt truck (297m.p.h), two stunt planes, a group of World War II planes, a Stealth fighter, and a huge jet-boosted transport plane.
The Blue Angels, though, were the highlight of the show. Five dark blue F-18s taxied down the runway, three of them together. Those three took off as a group with the other two following. The threesome moved in the air as if they were one plane. While they zoomed over the crowd, the other two rocketed straight up until the only thing visible was the trailing white smoke. Then they dove to opposite ends of the airfield and turned toward each other. They headed for the center of the field on a collision course, their wings perpendicular to the ground and veered away at the last second.
The dangers facing the Blue Angels became tragically apparent a few weeks ago when two of their members were killed preparing for another show. Despite the risk, the Blue Angels continue to display their skill, impressing young people who may be convinced to join the military (there were lots of recruiters there.) They also get the older folks (like me) to feel better about the billions of tax dollars spent on defense.
December 9, 1999
FLORIDA OBSERVATIONS:
1) Florida is flat. It's a good thing it never snows here. No child would be able hop on a Flexible Flyer and slide down a snow-covered hill. There are no hills. Drivers don't need to shift their cars into "park" when they stop. Neutral will do since cars won't roll on perfectly flat ground. I would estimate that 90% of the state is between one and three feet above sea level.
2) Florida is jewel-encrusted on its coastline and hollow in the middle. The center of Florida is cattle ranches and orange groves and modest dwellings. Magnificent homes and hotels turn their backs on this hollowness and face the Atlantic and the Gulf of Mexico. The owners drive their Mercedes and Coupe de Villes along the golden roads that parallel the shoreline. Much of the interior is navigated with pickup trucks.
3) Walt Disney turned one interior location, Orlando, into a gold mine. I was lucky enough to explore Epcot as the guest of Dean Depoy. Dean was the best band director that Brentwood High School (where I worked) ever had. Retired, he now works for Disney Cruiselines.
The last time I was at Epcot, it was with my daughter Megan. She was 12 years old. The magic is still there. I also visited Universal Studios, a very entertaining attraction built to draw in the crowds lured to the area by Disneyworld.
4) Everglades National Park is mostly under six inches of water. Grass grows in this shallow water giving the impression of endless grasslands broken occasionally by "hammocks" of land that are slightly above sea-level. Pine and other trees grow on these small islands of dryness. More magnificent birds populate the everglades than any other place I have ever seen. Eagles and egrets and hawks and pelicans are just a few of the kinds of birds that live here. Alligators, of course, are all over and boardwalks allow the visitor to get within feet of these fearsome creatures.
5) Key Largo is the home of John Pennecamp State Park, famous for its reef. A boat takes 40 to 50 snorkelers to the best under-sea exploring spot in the continental United States. I used the snorkeling gear I had purchased in Delray Beach (where I went to share Thanksgiving with my son Ryan, his girlfriend, and her family.) I took pictures of brightly colored fish (and a few barracuda) there with a throw-away underwater camera.
6) Key West is the most southern point in the U.S. From Florida City, its 125 miles over the Keys and the connecting bridges (the longest is seven miles) to Key West. I stopped at the biggest beach for a rest, then went to Ernest Hemingway's home where I took the tour. I passed on purchasing one of his novels there when I discovered that peeling back the price-sticker revealed that they were charging two dollars above the cover price for each book. I own most of his novels anyway. I fit in a quick lunch and a visit to Jimmy Buffet's Margaritaville before I got on the motorcycle for the 125 mile return trip.
January 13, 2000
Warm winter weather is Florida's most appealing product and while my friends in New York prepare for the first snowfall of the year, I'm spending a week at a golf villa in Central Florida's Spring Lake. The golf week is organized by Phil Panzeca, a retired Hofstra University professor. Phil has arranged these trips for quite a few years now, mostly for golf buddies that he knows from Gull Haven, a municipal golf course in Central Islip, NY.
There are 24 players on this outing, some of them retired Brentwood teachers. The others include retired salesmen, florists, plumbers and business execs. Some are still working, one as a bartender and another as heavy-equipment operator. Ages range from the mid-40's to 83. All are united in their love of golf, especially when it can be played in a place that is sunny and warm.
There is a wonderful mix of personalities here. Four of the players are transplanted Irish/Scotsmen and, even though they have been Americans for over 30 years, they retain the charming accents of their respective British Isles. One of them, Barney, says, "I don't know why I don't give up this bloody game, laddy." His partner, Bill teases him: "You Scots would rule the world if it wasn't for the drink."
Tex is 79 years old and runs the golf cart concession at Gull Haven. His vigorous health is the gift nature provides to those with the right genes. He is slim and strong in spite of his cigarette smoking. He starts the day with black coffee spiked with whiskey. He eats red meat every night and starts his dinner meal by pouring a mound of salt into his hand and popping it into his mouth. He asked me why I cut the large chunk of fat off of my piece of prime rib, claiming that "folks need that fat for lubrication."
Half the group is heading for Hilton Head at the end of this week and that will be the subject of my next report.
January 21, 2000
Hilton Head is a running shoe-shaped island that juts into the Atlantic near the bottom edge of South Carolina. At the toe-end of that running shoe is Sea Pines Plantation, the home of three great golf courses, spectacular homes, hotels and condominiums, pricey shops, and restaurants. There are wonderful beaches as well, but it's too cold in January to make full use of those. (Avg. daily temperature of 55 to 65)
We played golf on the Sea Marsh and Ocean courses and enjoyed one round on the famous Harbour Town Golf Links, home to the PGA Tour's MCI Classic. The best was the Ocean Course, peppered with 90 sand bunkers and water hazards on 13 of its holes. On the 15th hole of the Ocean Course, perched between the golf course and the ocean, is the most spectacular home we saw. It's the retreat of the CEO of Home Depot, a 10 million dollar house complete with ponds, waterfalls, a gigantic swimming pool, and wonderful views in all directions.
Today the group leaves Hilton Head, the lucky ones heading back to Florida, the others going north to frigid New York. And I will soon resume my nomadic existence, moving up and out of Florida, then westward.
January 27, 2000
I have vague recollections of Hernando DeSoto from my student days in Mr. Zuckerman's American History class back in Brentwood High School. Words like "adventurous" and "courageous" were attached in my memory to the title "Conquistador." After visiting DeSoto National Memorial near the mouth of Tampa Bay, I found that the words "avaricious, cruel, and remorseless" fit just as well.
DeSoto was not satisfied stealing gold and capturing slaves in Nicaragua. In 1539, with the blessing of the Spanish king, he took a group of ships and 700 men and headed for "La Florida" (which, at the time, meant the entire Southeastern part of the unexplored North American continent.) He also brought war horses, lances, matchlock rifles, and attack dogs that were trained to disembowel a man on command.
Upon reaching a village, DeSoto would take the chief hostage to ensure he would supply food, women, guides and porters to the next village. If a village resisted, the army would kill, maim, rape, and burn. The defiant were roasted alive or thrown to the dogs.
The greatest destruction that the European explorers brought to these natives, though, was disease. Death from small pox, typhus, and measles was common. Twenty years after DeSoto's visit, most of the villages were gone and the evidence of culture was disappearing. The natives no longer trusted leaders who could not protect them from vicious invaders or medicine men who had no cures for the strange diseases brought by the Spaniards. Societal bonds dissolved as ancient lines of tribal lore died with their custodians.
DeSoto found no gold and died near the Mississippi River. He spent his fortune on a fruitless visit to the New World and provided ample evidence of what native Americans could expect from the next wave of visitors from Europe.
January 31, 2000
Judy and I were two ignorant visitors to Tampa Bay Downs, Tampa's local thoroughbred race track. Quinellas, exactas, trifectas. What the heck were these?
I approached a dark-haired man who was busy making notations on his racing form. He explained betting procedures and terms to me. Judy and I made our choices, then went to the betting window to place our bets. We told the man behind the window that we were rookies and he commented that our ignorance was just as likely to bring us a winner as the painstaking research of the experienced bettors around us. He was right. We won over $100 on quinellas (we had to pick the first and second finishers.)
We decided to spend the money on a special dinner. Judy had heard about Bern's Steak House, but she had never been there. Located in an area of Tampa that has seen better days, it is one of the finest eating places I have ever visited. Consider a restaurant with these qualities:
-most vegetables are organically-grown on their own eight acre farm.
-the waiters are trained for one-year. During that time they must work on the farm, serve in every station in the restaurant, and attend workshops. The service from our waiter was exceptional.
-four 1200 gallon tanks hold the fish that are kept alive until ordered.
-bread is baked from flour they grind themselves in pans that are made in their own metal shop.
-steaks are U.S. prime beef aged five to eight weeks. My filet mignon was the best I have ever eaten!
The meat is ordered by weight and cooked to perfection over charcoal grills.
-the wine list is not a list. It is a book containing nearly 7000 different wines. There are 23 different kinds of caviar available and well over 100 brands of beer.
After dinner, guests are welcome to tour the kitchen and the wine cellar. Both were huge! (Those four 1200 gallons fish tanks fill only a small part of the kitchen.) The wine cellar is larger than most homes.
Dessert is served in private booths located on the second floor. There are 44 of these booths, some small and cozy and perfect for two, some large enough to accommodate a dozen diners. Each booth has a control panel for selecting the type of recorded music to be played. The desserts (65 choices, all made on the premises) were delicious but the coffee was spectacular. The waiter explained that each bean was hand-selected for perfection. The beans are ground in separate grinders so that there is no unexpected blending.
This meal cost $100 but was equal to any that the finest NY City restaurants could serve. And it would cost three times as much in the "Big Apple." If you ever get to Tampa, you must visit Bern's.
February 5, 2000
Will people jump, scream and bump old ladies just for the chance to catch a string of cheap beads? I learned that I will do all those things at the Gasparilla Day Parade in Tampa, Florida. The parade is part of the Gasparilla Celebration that is spread over two weeks and is Tampa's answer to the Fat Tuesday Mardi Gras party celebrated in New Orleans.
The parade brings out 500,000 revelers to watch high school bands and festive floats (many decorated to simulate pirate ships.) But the main draw for this horde is cheap necklace catching. Every costumed parade participant carries hundreds of these brightly colored beads and they toss the beads to the screaming crowds. Since the parade marks the anniversary of the long ago raid of the pirate Jose Gaspar, its a reversal of the normal pirate-citizen relationship, where the pirate is supposed to get all the necklaces.
The Gasparilla Celebration also includes an arts and crafts show, a street carnival, music presentations at various bandstands set up around the city and a 5-K run. Next year's Gasparilla Party will be scheduled to coincide with the Super Bowl which Tampa is hosting in 2001.
February 11, 2000
Cape Canaveral has great beaches and a port filled with cruise ships. It also borders the home of the world's most famous space center. NASA launches its rockets and the space shuttle from here and I was lucky enough to see two such launches this week.
The first (on Tuesday, Feb. 8) was a satellite delivery rocket. From five miles away, the flame of thrusters is the first evidence of the launch. The huge roar follows shortly after. Since the sky was overcast, this rocket disappeared into the clouds in just a few seconds.
On Friday, the space shuttle Discovery took off into a clear blue sky. Again, the long tongue of fire from the rocket engine is the first thing seen, then a wide trail of smoke, and finally, the tremendous roar. The sun reflected brightly off the white surface of the shuttle but soon it was out of sight. Awesome!
February 15, 2000
Florida Impressions #2
1. The Mercury Grand Marquis (with two blue-haired ladies in the back seat and two bald men in the front seat) is Florida's main winter vehicle.
2. It's nice to have a satellite dish on my RV. It allows me to watch the February weather forecast in New York and hear about the high cost of fuel oil. Many folks don't like Florida, but there's no complaining about its winter warmth. (Today in Tampa it will be 78 and sunny.)
3. There are so many people from the north in Florida that the natives are a minority. My guess is that in April so many people head north out of Florida on Interstate 95 that it creates an updraft affecting the springtime weather on the entire east coast.
4. With some exceptions, homes are less expensive and food is more expensive in Florida. Tropicana's Florida orange juice costs more in Florida than it does in New York.
February 16, 2000
This week's Senior PGA Tour stop is about five miles from the campground I'm at which I'm staying. Tom Wargo (always has a cigar) is one of the players in the event and he is staying in his RV at this campground. The course is the TPC of Tampa Bay, designed by Chi Chi Rodriguez. I'm headed there today to see the Pro-Am and get some pictures of the new guys (Tom Watson, Tom Kite, Lanny Wadkins) and some of the older guys (Jack, Arnie, Gary, Lee). It's free today and they allow cameras.
I played a few courses near Cape Canaveral last week. Nothing great but some of my old game has returned so I enjoyed myself
February 19, 2000
The big name in golf right now is Tiger Woods. But at 23 he is far too young to be considered a golf legend. The legendary golfers (Nicklaus, Palmer, Player, Trevino, Watson, Kite, etc.) aren't playing with Tiger in California this week. They are all competing at The G.T.E. Classic at The Tournament Players Club of Tampa Bay, Florida, and I have been lucky enough to see them play. The golf course is just four miles from the campground that I'm visiting.
For those of you who don't know about the Senior Tour, it a separate branch of the Professional Golfers of America. Players must be over 50 years of age. It was started to give a new chance to professional golfers who were extremely popular with golf fans but unable to compete successfully with much younger players. It has become such a hit that the G.T.E. Classic is expected to attract 175,000 spectators and will be featured on ESPN for three days.
Those spectators, of course, will come to see Palmer, Nicklaus, and the other living golf legends play. But they will also see Tom Wargo compete. Wargo, who always walks the fairways smoking a big cigar, never played on the regular tour. He was an ordinary golf course pro, the guy who sold greens fee tickets and golf shirts to his customers. When he turned 50, he became one of the few new "Seniors" by competing at their qualifying school. Now he travels from place to place and plays against the legends. He has won on the Senior Tour (not lately) and gives ordinary golfers (like me) a great deal of inspiration.
By the way, Tom Wargo travels with his wife in an RV and is camped not far from my campsite.
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