Sunday, August 26, 2012

The Crossroads

Looks like an ordinary urban intersection.

US 61 @ US 49, Clarksdale, Mississippi [34 11 42N, 90 33 51W]
Oldtimers from the country would call it a "crossroads". But this is not a crossroads, not by a long shot. This is "THE Crossroads". You know the one. The one Eric Clapton told you about. The intersection of Delta blues and rock & roll. Bob Dylan's ultimate destination as he headed south from his birthplace in Duluth, Minnesota down Highway 61. The magnet for Robert Plant and Jimmy Page as they went walking into Clarksdale, Mississippi. The  intersection of US highways 61 and 49 where Robert Johnson allegedly sold his soul to the devil for the ability to play blues music. His song "Cross Road Blues" never mentions that bargain, but I suppose that's not something you would advertise. When he recorded that song over Thanksgiving week in 1936, he was a long ways from Clarksdale -- at the Sheraton Gunter Hotel in San Antonio! OK...it wasn't a Sheraton back then, but it was a very nice downtown hotel. They still remember.


There's a monument to blues guitar located at the crossroads. The people of Clarksdale want to make sure you know where you are. And every few years, Eric Clapton takes the time and effort to make sure you never forget.



Monday, August 20, 2012

Bron-Yr-Aur

Millions (?) of people will read the title of this post and instantly know the subject. A few others will read it and have no clue. Which group are you in?

Here's a satellite image of the subject:
Vicinity of Machynlleth, Wales [52 36 10N, 03 52 04W]
Actually, Bron-Yr-Aur is the cottage at upper left...here's a closer view:

So...it still exists, at least as recently as April 19, 2009 when these satellite images were captured. It had no running water and no electricity back in 1970 when it served as a quiet hideaway for a couple of guys exhausted from worldwide travel. Perhaps it still doesn't. And perhaps the lack of conveniences back then served as motivation to get out of the cottage and stomp around the countryside, which in turn LED to many other inspirations that could be found over the hills and far away from the cottage. I wonder whatever happened to Strider...



Wednesday, August 8, 2012

Charles Simmons

A few years ago there was talk of Congress funding a $400M bridge in Alaska between two lightly populated locations. It was derisively christened the "Bridge to Nowhere", to be located between Ketchikan and Gravina Island. Every time I heard a news story about that bridge, I was reminded of one of the first articles I co-wrote/edited when I was the editor of Clearance Card, the quarterly journal of the Southwest Railroad Historical Society. It was about a land promoter, Charles Simmons, founding a new town in South Texas called Simmons City (promoters are required to have a big ego). Transportation options were limited in those days, so he figured he'd better start a railroad as well. It was simply an efficient means of bringing potential buyers to the willing seller, you understand. Otherwise, he had no use for a railroad. I like people who don't forget that they also need to solve the ancillary problems that impact the success of their main endeavor. Depending on your gauge, Simmons was somewhat successful in his initial endeavor, but ultimately the town dried up and disappeared. The only lasting remnant is the church, built in 1908, that still stands...as shown in these images.
Church in Simmons City, Texas [28 24 21N, 98 16 45W]

So why does the "Bridge to Nowhere" remind me of this story? Well...there was a mystery associated with the construction of Simmons' railroad because old aviation maps (and modern satellite photos) showed his railroad extending well south of its "known" southern terminus in Christine, Texas. Texas Railroad Commission records said that it never went south of Christine, but maps and photos show that it continued much further south and then...it just ended. Frankly, it looked like a Railroad to Nowhere.

Saturday, August 4, 2012

Misawa

I traveled to Misawa Air Base in northern Japan in late October, 1985. This was only two years after Korean Air Lines Flight 007 was shot down by the Soviets in the Sea of Japan, not far from Misawa. Times were tense in those days. I suppose they still are...but for different reasons. My biggest fear on this trip was not the Russians -- it was flying to Misawa from Tokyo's "domestic" airport. Think back to the mid-80's and consider for a moment the difference between a major international airport, say DFW, and its nearby "domestic" counterpart, say Love Field. Now...suppose you have landed at DFW but speak only Japanese. You can probably find some translation help to get you to your hotel. And if you've chosen a major, downtown "international" hotel, you can probably find someone there to assist you during your overnight stay. They can no doubt get you into a taxi the next morning and direct the driver to take you to Love Field. But once you exit that taxi at Love Field...the next person you encounter is likely to be a Southwest Airlines ticket agent who might be able to figure out that you want to fly to Midland and who can surely process your credit card to pay for the ticket. But her sign language attempting to explain to you how to get through Security and where the gates are and how the flight is 30 minutes late, etc. will look like so much arm-waving. You are on your own...surrounded by a massive crowd that does not speak your language. This is what I expected at Haneda Airport after arriving at Narita Airport and spending the night at the New Prince Takanawa Hotel [where the sauce on the spaghetti I ordered in their Italian restaurant was -- I swear -- Wolf Brand Chili]. Even the "pay for your ticket in person" was true because, like Southwest, the flight to Misawa was on Toa Domestic Airways, a Japanese airline that did not "inter-line" with the major international carriers and thus my travel agent could not buy the ticket in advance (at least not through American's Sabre system). In those pre-internet days, travel was a bit dicier...

The doorman at the hotel got me into a taxi headed for Haneda, and moments thereafter, I had a good omen. The taxi driver turned the volume back up on his radio and we were suddenly listening to the 1985 World Series on US Armed Forces Radio! [Best I recall, this was a Wednesday morning, so it was probably game 3 played in the US on Tuesday night, Oct. 22nd, which also happened to be my niece Regan's 2nd birthday -- sorry I missed it, Regan!] As it turned out, the ticket agent at Haneda spoke decent English and I made the flight without difficulty. My work on base took me onto the roof of a building where I had a great view of the AN/FLR-9 antenna. Nice to see that it's still there...

[AN/FLR-9 at Misawa AB, 40 43 23N, 141 19 44E]