Sinclair Dinosaur, Eastern Iowa, 2001

Posted on February 7, 2021 by admin

Here we are in the Mariana Trench of winter. A little later than usual, but well within the scope of a normal winter.

The headline above pretty much says it all. Twenty years ago this month, when we visited eastern Iowa for a long weekend, I spotted a Sinclair dinosaur in that part of the state.

I’d have said at the time that as advertising, the heyday of the Sinclair dinosaur was long over. But I would have been wrong. It’s just that I didn’t see them around much in the Chicago area, so that when I spotted one out of town, it struck me as a novelty, or maybe something left over from an earlier decade. That’s probably why I bothered to take a picture.

Just do a Google image search and plenty of fairly recent green fiberglass dinosaurs appear. Wiki asserts that many of the dinosaur-sporting Sinclair stations are along I-80 in our time, and while I’m not quite sure where in Iowa I took the picture, we weren’t far from that road.

“Sinclair Oil began using an Apatosaurus (then called a Brontosaurus) in its advertising, sales promotions and product labels in 1930. Children loved it,” the blog of the American Oil & Gas Historic Society says, also noting the popular notion at the time that dinosaurs decayed into the oil that mankind had found.

Of course, Sinclair Oil itself has a lot to say about its brontosaurus. I particularly recommend the short video at the Sinclair site about Sinclair at the World’s Fair in 1964.

As a small child, I had a green plastic brontosaurus bank, into whose slot I put pennies, nickels and less frequently other coins. I suspect my mother got it as a premium for buying gas from Sinclair.

The coins in that bank taught me, among other things, that some of the older ones were silver, while the newer ones — not nearly as satisfying as coins — were some weird mix of copper and nickel. I’m fairly sure I actually learned about silver and non-silver coinage from one of my brothers. But having the coins probably promoted me to ask them questions in the first place, such as, why are these different from the others?

Effigy Mounds National Monument

Posted on July 6, 2020 by admin

Another holiday weekend, another pop up to Wisconsin for a short spell. Actually, Wisconsin and a small slice of Iowa — that being the main goal of the trip: Effigy Mounds National Monument, which is mostly in Allamakee County, Iowa’s northeastern-most county.
The 50-hour trip took us to Madison on Thursday evening to spend the first night, and from there to Prairie du Chien, Wisconsin and environs, where we stayed from late morning Friday to early afternoon Saturday. We returned home late Saturday afternoon, in time for Vietnamese takeout dinner at home — and to hear a July 4 neighborhood blasting of fireworks like none I’ve heard before.

Why Effigy Mounds and Prairie du Chien? Because I’ve seen those places on maps for years. I’ve read about them as well, of course, but spots on a map can be alluring in a way no mere textual description is. Come here, the spots say; come see what’s here.
Also, the rolling, verdant Driftless Area is a special place. I’ve only come to appreciate it in recent years.

A road trip at this moment in history is necessarily different than before. Gone for now are casual meals at restaurants picked on a whim, visits to intriguing local museums or wandering down busy small-town shopping/tourist streets and spending time in their specialty stores.

Now the trip means takeout — from the only Chinese restaurant in Prairie du Chien, for example — finding places where few people go (such as cemeteries) and generally spending your time outdoors, as we did on the trails of the national monument and a Wisconsin state park.

Or staying in your room. It so happened that on Friday night, some high school-vintage friends (two in this picture) invited me to a social Zoom, and I managed to figure out how I could attend using my phone. We had a good time.

We arrived at Effigy Mounds NM early Friday afternoon. Temps were high, about 90, and we were warned on a sign that the trail from the (closed) visitors center to the first fork involved a rise of about 350 feet.

I can’t say I wasn’t warned. Up we went.

The shade moderated the heat some. I wore a hat — one I’d bought at Joshua Tree NP in February, where it was just as sunny but not as hot. I had water. I made progress through the winding green tunnels, resting often. Yuriko was soon far ahead.

Eventually I could tell I was near the crest of the hill.

I don’t need a sign to tell me that. By that point, I was well tired. Just another thing I should have done 20 (30) years ago. Still, the vista was worth the effort: a view of the Mississippi, looking southeast, from a spot called Fire Point. Prairie du Chien is in the distance.

Due east: party boats gathered on the river for July 3.

Besides a nice vista, Fire Point featured a collection of mounds. Larger —

— and a row of smaller ones.

Something inspired the peoples who lived here to reshape the ground into recognizable forms. Recognizable, but you need to squint a little. Not nearly as recognizable in simple photos, unfortunately.

Not far from Fire Point is Great Bear Mound. Probably best visible from above, though park management helpfully trimmed the grass to make the shape a little easier to see from ground level, and you do see it — but it’s also good to bring a little historical imagination to the task. (As it is even in highly visible places.)I expect these mounds survived farming and other depredations of the 19th century because the land was too steep to farm or even harvest timber. President Truman created the monument, which protects 206 mounds, in 1949.

“The Late Woodland Period (1400-750 B.P.) along the Upper Mississippi River and extending east to Lake Michigan is associated with the culture known today as the Effigy Moundbuilders,” notes the NPS. “The construction of effigy mounds was a regional cultural phenomenon. Mounds of earth in the shapes of birds, bear, deer, bison, lynx, turtle, panther or water spirit are the most common images…

“The Effigy Moundbuilders also built linear or long rectangular mounds that were used for ceremonial purposes that remain a mystery. Some archeologists believe they were built to mark celestial events or seasonal observances. Others speculate they were constructed as territorial markers or as boundaries between groups.”

Why did Moundbuilders build mounts? The answer is dunno even among modern experts. They had their reasons. The mists of time are pretty thick in the hills of the Driftless Area.

Streetscapes in the Driftless Area

Posted on June 24, 2018 by admin

Four years ago in June, we visited the Driftless Area, where the modern borders of Illinois, Wisconsin and Iowa meet. I called the trip the Tri-State Summer Solstice Weekend ’14.

Driftless because for whatever reason, glaciers didn’t cover the area during the most recent ice ages. Besides its interesting geography — hills in Illinois, what a concept — the Driftless Area has some charming towns.

Such as Dubuque, as seen from the hill rising over the town, looking down toward the Mississippi.

Down in the streets.

It’s always good to find a handsome small-town streetscape. On this trip, there was Galena, Illinois.

Mount Carroll, Illinois.

The even more obscure Bellevue, Iowa.

In Bellevue I stopped to look at Lock and Dam No. 12 on the Mississippi River, and took a short look at the town, too.

Don’t Call It a Hooverville

Posted on April 6, 2015 by admin

Just off of I-80 in east-central Iowa is the town of West Branch, hometown of Herbert Clark Hoover. These days, you can visit the Herbert Hoover National Historic Site there, as we did on March 27.

Besides the museum and library, and the graves of President and Mrs. Hoover, the site includes a collection of 19th-century buildings moved from other parts of town to form a sort of young Hoover-era village: a half-dozen houses, a schoolhouse, Jesse Hoover’s smithy, a Friends Meeting House, and a barn. All of these were put in the vicinity of Hoover’s birthplace cottage, a two-room structure in which HH came into the world on August 10, 1874. It’s the only thing in the area that hadn’t been moved.

It’s a small place. Really small: 280 square feet.

“Like any couple just starting out, 21-year old Hulda Minthorn and 23-year old Jesse Hoover were eager to have a place to call their own,” the NPS says about the cottage. “Shortly after their first wedding anniversary, and with the help of his father Eli, Jesse built this simple, but sturdy two-room cottage in the spring of 1871 on the corner of Downey and Penn streets.

“Looking around this house, you may think the Hoover family was poor. But their prudent spending, strong work ethic, and resourceful ways were actually a reflection of their Quaker beliefs.” More about the cottage is here.

Across Hoover Creek from the cottage is a curious thing. A statue of Isis — the ancient Egyptian deity, that is. How many monumental statues of Isis are there in Iowa? Maybe just this one. How many anywhere? I couldn’t say, but I do know there’s one at the Herbert Hoover National Historic Site.
“Considering Herbert Hoover’s Quaker upbringing, you might be wondering why there is a statue of Isis, ‘the Egyptian goddess of Life,’ sitting on the grounds of his birthplace,” says the NPS. “This bronze, seven-and-a-half-foot tall statue is the work of Belgian sculptor Auguste Puttemans [apparently his last work] and was a gift from the children, refugees, and soldiers of Belgium in gratitude for Hoover’s famine relief efforts on their behalf during the First World War.”

Molly’s Cupcakes

Posted on April 2, 2015 by admin

A splendid Easter to all. Back on Monday.

As usual in a different city, we poked around some of the local retail. I was especially glad to check out the selection at Iowa Book on South Clinton, which is what it sounds like. In the remainder bin, I found Under the Sun: The Letters of Bruce Chatwin (2010) for all of $3.49 + tax. It promises some interesting bits, when I get around to grazing it, which is what I usually do with letter collections.

Picked at random (p. 204) is the following — but I think it conveys some sense of the man. Part of a letter to Joan Leigh Fermor, whose husband was Patrick Leigh Fermor, November 30, 1971:

“I do hope to see you in England. When do you come? Paddy [Leigh Fermor] I know is going to D[erek] Hill for New Year, and we are supposed to be in Ireland for Christmas. But I have the most itchy feet and want to go to Niger — more nomads, the Bororo Peuls, the most beautiful people in the world who wander alone in the savannah with long-horned white cattle and have some rather startling habits, like a complete sex-reversal at certain seasons of the year. So I may be off.”

Not far from Iowa Book is Molly’s Cupcakes. One of the 10 Best Cupcakes in the Country, a sign proudly says, citing USA Today, and another says the joint was the Winner of the Cupcake Wars or some such. I was intrigued enough to pop inside when everyone else was still in the bookstore, just for a look.
Later, I brought the family back for cupcakes. I can’t say that I’ve bought too many cupcakes in cupcake specialty shops over the years — it seems like a example of the Starbucks syndrome, making something simple more complicated to charge a premium — but why not? We were on a road trip.

At $2 for a basic cupcake, and $3 for a filled one, you do pay a premium. But damn, they were good. I had a red velvet with vanilla frosting.
I managed by accident to take a portrait of the entire family during our visit to the shop.
The girls as the main subject, but Y and I in the reflection.

Iowa City Yarn Bombing

Posted on April 1, 2015 by admin

A good way to kick off April: a day warm enough to eat lunch on our deck. Which I did, with the dog as ever waiting around for a handout, and then lolling around in the mild sun.

During our walkabout last Friday in Iowa City, besides plaques in the sidewalks, we began to notice trees wrapped in sweaters, or at least sweater-like creations of yarn.

Nothing like something peculiar to get your attention. Mine, anyway. Later I found out that the wraps are a result of organized yarn bombing — which is something that actually happens — called the Tree Huggers project. Iowa City Downtown District says this about the 2014-15 project, which is apparently the third annual one: “2012 was the first year of the ICDD’s annual winter ‘Tree Huggers’ project produced by Home Ec Workshop and sponsored by Total Tree Care of Iowa City.

“The program has once again invited 120 local knitters transform the landscape of the District starting in November on over 130 trees throughout Downtown and the Northside Marketplace as part of the ICDD’s Community Gallery Program.”

Here’s another:

And another two. Or three, depending on how you count.

On the Sunday after we were there, the trees were “unhugged,” meaning that the sweaters were removed. “Following their removal, the Tree Huggers will be washed and put together for blankets that will be donated to local charity groups,” the district explains.

Iowa Avenue Bronzes

Posted on March 31, 2015 by admin

Near the intersection of Iowa Ave. and Linn St. in Iowa City, you’ll see this bronze fellow, forever waving his hat to passersby.

It’s Irving B. Weber (1900-97). You might ask, Who? I know I did. “Irving B. Weber is remembered for many things,” says the Iowa City Public Library. “He was the University of Iowa’s first All-American [sic] swimmer. He was a founder of Quality Chekd Dairies and served as its president until his retirement in 1966. Irving was an active member of the Iowa City Host Noon Lions Club and was the local school board president in 1952-53. In 1994 Irving B. Weber Elementary School was named in his honor.

“Irving B. Weber may be most remembered for the over 800 articles he wrote for the Iowa City Press-Citizen beginning in 1973. Irving’s view of history was not one of a dull retelling of facts and names. He told what it was like to grow up in Iowa City, the best places to buy penny candy, the joys of cooling off in Melrose Lake in the summer, and of sledding parties on closed-off streets.”

Mr. Iowa City, you might call him. Honored with a bronze by two Iowa artists, Stephen Maxon and Doris Park. Irving was easy to spot. Pretty soon, though, I started to notice bronze plaques mounted in the sidewalk along Iowa Ave. We’d chanced on the Iowa City Literary Walk. The variety was remarkable, and I saw only a dozen or so plaques.

Such as these, which contain quotes from James [Alan] McPherson, W.P. Kinsella, and Ethan Canin, respectively.

According to the City of Iowa City, “The Literary Walk, conceptualized by the Iowa City Public Art Advisory Committee in 1999, celebrates works by 49 writers who have ties to Iowa. [A good many specifically to the Iowa Writers’ Workshop, I suspect.] The Literary Walk is comprised of a series of bronze relief panels that feature authors’ words as well as attribution. The panels are visually connected by a series of general quotations about books and writing stamped into the concrete sidewalk. All artwork, by Gregg LeFevre, is set in the pavement along both sides of Iowa Avenue from Clinton Street to Gilbert Street.”

The Old Capitol, Iowa City

Posted on March 30, 2015 by admin

I’m glad to report that the Old Capitol in Iowa City, now part of the University of Iowa but formerly the territorial capitol and then the first Iowa state capitol, has recovered from the fire of 2001. It’s in fine shape these days.
When we visited town that year, before the fire, the building was closed for renovations. A workman accidentally set its dome on fire that November, and so the building was closed much longer than planned, until 2006. As a fan of capitols, both former and present (an example of each: Florida and Louisiana), I was happy to get a look inside this time around, in the old House and Senate chambers, the Iowa Supreme Court’s former chamber, the old state library, the spiral central stairs, and more. All well-appointed with period artifacts.

As usual with this kind of museum, I wondered, where’s the clutter? Pictured above is a tidy, nearly empty desk. An actual desk of an actual 19th-century government official would have had more papers and other debris. Maybe all kinds of clutter — documents, newspapers, books, a half-eaten lunch, the works. The quill pens wouldn’t be arrayed upright, ready to write. They’d be scattered around the desk, or maybe left in other parts of the room, leading the user to scrounge around and mutter, “Where in the blazes is that pen?”

Which leads to another question: weren’t quills old hat by the 1840s and ’50s, when this was a government building? I know nub pens were being manufactured in quantity by then, but maybe they were still scarce in the Iowa Territory.

In the lower level of the Old Capitol is the what’s left of the old bell, a victim of the 2001 fire.
The sign next to the ruined bell tells us, “Housed inside the tower was Old Capitol’s third bell, which fell when its wooden yoke burned. The bell broke around the neck and landed on its side in the tower debris.

“The mass of mangled metal shown here is all that remains of the 1864 bell — the only casualty from more than 750 artifacts. Twists and turns in the metal reveal nails, pieces of copper and gold leaf from the building’s original construction.”

The university managed to acquire a replacement bell much like this one, only in better shape. The sign continues: “During the tower reconstruction, Old Capitol staff located a similar antique bell from the Verdin Bell Company in Cincinnati… this bell was cast by the same foundry as the burned bell, is approximately the same age, and, at 1500 pounds and 42 inches in diameter, is slightly heavier and wider than the 1864 bell.”

Quad Cities-Iowa City ’15

Posted on March 29, 2015 by admin

Or, back to visit Herbert Hoover. Not that President Hoover’s a particular favorite, but we were out that way. It started late Thursday afternoon, when all of us got in the car and headed westward, eventually putting up for the night in Moline, Illinois, one of the Quad Cities, our first of two nights there.

On Friday morning, we made our way to Iowa City — not following the most direct route, exactly, but getting there in the early afternoon for a look-see around the University of Iowa. It’s among the places Lilly is considering for her continued education. Late March being unpredictable, the air wasn’t very warm, but the sun was out and it wasn’t cold enough to discourage a walkabout on campus, or the nearby college-town business district, or a visit to the former state capitol. A re-visit for most of us, though it’s been quite a few years.

On our way back to Moline that afternoon, we stopped in West Branch, Iowa, birthplace and burial site of the 31st President of the United States. This time I insisted that everyone get out of the car and take a look. Lilly took my picture, so now I have a Manus Hand-style photo with a dead president. It’s the only one of that kind that I have.

On Saturday morning, I was up earlier than the rest of my family, taking the opportunity to visit the Rock Island National Cemetery, along with the nearby Confederate Cemetery, burial ground for CSA POWs on Rock Island. On the way back, I toyed with the idea of wandering through the John Deere Pavilion, but left it for another time.

In the late morning, we visited the Figge Art Museum in Davenport, Iowa, the successor entity to the Davenport Museum of Art that’s been open about 10 years. Interesting collection, not overwhelmingly large, and including something I’d never seen before: a section devoted to Haitian art.

That was it for this 48-hour quickie. Except for a few minutes’ drive through Le Claire, Iowa, where we stopped for gas. Notable as the birthplace of Buffalo Bill Cody, and home to a museum devoted to the showman. We left that for another time as well.

Lost Dome 2001

Posted on September 14, 2014 by admin

We came to be in eastern Iowa in early September 2001 — Labor Day weekend, in fact — because in February of that year, we’d taken a short trip to the same region, staying at a motel whose indoor pool turned out to be inoperable. I must have written a complaint letter about it, because the motel offered us another stay for no charge.

September’s definitely a more pleasant month to visit eastern Iowa than February, so we made our way back. We spent most of one day in the pleasant college town of Iowa City. The 2000s, it turned out, wasn’t a good decade for the town — a tornado hit one year, and the Iowa River flooded some of the town two years later. Before any of that, a historic structure burned.

That would be this historic structure: the Old State Capitol. Iowa City was a territorial and early state capital, and the building, with its gold leaf dome, was a relic of that time. (Iowa seems to have a thing for gold leaf on its capitol domes.) After the state government moved to Des Moines in 1857, the building became property of the University of Iowa, which it remains to this day.

We had a look at that early September 2001. Some renovation work was under way at the time.

A little more than two months later, workmen accidentally set the dome on fire and the fire consumed it, though not the rest of the building, which suffered water damage. I’m happy to report that a new gold leaf-covered dome was put on the building about two years later.

As we were leaving Iowa on that trip, we headed south a short distance from Iowa City and visited the Kalona Historical Village, an open-air museum heavy on farm structures and farm equipment, as you’d expect, plus a lot of Mennonite artifacts. Then we headed east and drove through Riverside, a small town. I only paused long enough, not even getting out of the car, to see the “USS Riverside” in a small park. At some point, the town fathers had decided that Riverside was the future birthplace of Capt. Kirk.

Been There, Seen That

By Dees Stribling

Tag Archives: Iowa