Ghost Towns of Route 66 Read Free

note include Soulsby Station in Mt. Olive, which dates to 1926, and the Luna Café, circa 1924, in Mitchell.

MISSOURI

    Gary Turner’s re-creation of Gay Parita Garage and Sinclair station in Paris Springs Junction shows remarkable attention to detail.
    From flood plain to resort, from small-town America to symbol of environmental degradation, from toxic site to state park, the site of Times Beach epitomizes the ever-changing face of Route 66.
    I N THE S HOW -M E S TATE , much of Route 66 follows the old Wire Road, a vital communications and transportation road that was at center stage in some of the bloodiest fighting of the Civil War. Many of the weathered headstones and monuments in shade-dappled cemeteries perched on ridges above the old road stand in silent testimony to these dark times.
    In stark contrast is the colorful glow of neon, refurbished or remembered, that sheaths many towns along the double six in Missouri. This garish façade harks back to the glory days of Route 66.
    Not all ghost towns in the shadow of the Ozark Mountains are tinged dark by the tumult of the Civil War, nor are they all memorialized with neon monuments. At least one began with the promise of good times before becoming a victim of the modern industrial era and environmental degradation.
    GHOST OF THE MODERN ERA: TIMES BEACH
    I N AN ODD TWIST OF FATE , the idyllic Route 66 State Park on the Meramec River mirrors the vision of those who established a small resort community on this site seventeen miles west of St. Louis in 1925. It also masks the tragedy that claimed the community of Times Beach.
    After acquiring a 480-acre site on a flood plain utilized for farming, the owners of the
St. Louis Star Times
initiated an unusual promotional campaign to increase the newspaper’s circulation. For $67.50, a customer could purchase a 20x100-foot lot and receive a six-month subscription to the newspaper. There was a slight catch: to utilize the property and build a house required the purchase of a second adjoining lot.
    Since this was largely a summer resort, and the area was prone to flooding, stilts were foundational elements of the cottages built. By 1930, residents were building more substantial homes, a reflection of the move from resort to community. This and a growing business district gave the town an atmosphere of stability.
    The shift from resort to town marked a new chapter in the history of Times Beach. The next chapter began with World War II, gas rationing, and the postwar housing shortage that again transformed the character of “The Beach,” as residents called it.
    By 1970, some 1,240 people called Times Beach home, and the town was slowly moving beyond its postwar image as a low-income community of mobile homes and cracker-box houses.
    The most notable manifestation of this change was the decision to address the town’s 16.3 miles of dusty, unpaved streets. With a budget insufficient to meet the projected cost of paving, city administrators instead turned to oiling the roads to control the dust. Contracted for this endeavor was Russell Bliss, owner of a small company that hauled waste oils and other materials.
    What city management did not know was that Bliss was also hauling waste for the Northeastern Pharmaceutical and Chemical Company of Verona, Missouri, a major producer of Agent Orange during the Vietnam War. As a result, for several years, Bliss sprayed the streets of Times Beach with material laden with deadly dioxins.
    In the fall of 1982, an investigative reporter turned his attention to Times Beach after establishing a link between Russell Bliss and the death of dozens of horses at stables he had sprayed with waste oil. This investigation was quickly followed by one initiated by the Environmental Protection Agency.
    On December 5 of that year, the worst flooding in the town’s history forced an almost complete evacuation. Eighteen days later, the EPA notified residents and the community’s