The very notion of La Bajada Hill struck terror in the early-day travelers of 66. Spots were so steep that cars with gravity-fed tanks would have to go up in reverse, because the fuel couldn’t get to the engine.
This summer Lindsey Rickert going to embark on a road trip around the country to photograph as many drive-in theaters as she possibly can. Whether abandoned or operational, it is her goal to capture as many of these American icons before they disappear. She is currently running a Kickstarter campaign to help fund my trip and would love your support.
What really sets this place apart is that there are no prices on the menu and no cash register on the premises. There is only a big jar by the door and a sign asking you to pay what you can. Any profits are donated to charity.
Built in the mid-twenties when Tulsa was a booming oil town and the depression wasn’t even a notion. After going through a number architects, the church committee members turned to University of Tulsa art instructor, Miss Adah Robinson for help.
In 1987, Red Oak II was just a cornfield, but to Lowell, it was a blank canvas. A visit to Red Oak II is a visit to the past. You’ll see the Blacksmith Shop, where Lowell’s great-grandfather practiced his trade
There’s a certain amount of civic pride that can be squeezed out of something like this, and the folks of Collinsville have definitely done so.
Despite being a California State Landmark, this folk art environment was dismantled. Luckily, some of the pieces were saved and can be seen in the California Route 66 Museum: “Hula Ville – Twentieth Century Folk Art”.
This Route 66 historian and artist has his gallery just barely a block off of the Mother Road. You can call ahead, or just take your chance and drop in. He would be happy to sign your copy of the Map Series or EZ 66 Guide (plus give you the latest updates). He also sells his original artwork.
This gorgeous garden of grottos was built to honor Our Lady of Czestochowa, who came to be known as the Black Madonna because of the way she appeared in early paintings. Brother Bronislaus Luszcz literally did all the building here, using rocks, broken glass, and castoff jewelry to add to the splendor.
Completely surrounded by farm fields, the cemetery was part of the Almshouse, built by Livingston County in 1859 to provide a home for people who were poor, mentally or physically ill. From 1877 to 1934 residents that had no money were buried here. Recently, the cemetery was restored and includes a marker along Old Route 66.