Down the Mississippi #12

Chapter 1: Planning for a long car trip such as ours requires commitment. Some of the planning is predictable, like how much underwear to bring and how to pack for three climates without over packing.  Some of it is unexpectedly challenging, like what hat(s) to bring.

Rebecca settled on her “Mass Audubon Society” hat. I brought my Red Sox hat: the season had not ended; they were in 1st place; and a World Series was not out of the question. We both “knew” that as soon as we connected with The Great River Road in Minnesota, “Great River Road” hats would abound. From what I can tell, The Great River Road is the longest scenic byway in the U.S. It parallels the greatest river on the continent. It is 600 miles longer than Historic Route 66 and probably 1,000 miles or more longer than the string of Pacific Coast Highways. We found hats from state parks, Lake Itasca hats, hats from museums and tourist centers, but not a single hat branding The Great River Road.

The Red Sox lost to Houston. The foam lining in Rebecca’s Mass Audubon hat sagged and then fell out in a clump. Our hat situation was getting dire.

Chapter 2: Ste. Genevieve, Missouri is a ridiculously sweet little river town. We arrived on a free ferry that runs between Modoc, Illinois and Ste. Gen (as the locals call it). The deckhand on the ferry told us about the Inn where we stayed: the Inn St. Gemme Beauvais. It was so nice (and because I had some work to get done), we stayed for three days. Jan and Cathy Brans were grand innkeepers; the breakfasts were astounding; the afternoon wine and hors d’oeuvres provided a touch of elegance.

The full walk around downtown Ste. Gen takes about five minutes, and the Visitor Center … like many Visitor Centers on our route … had a terrific short video about the town. We bought a few books, read lots of literature, and befriended the kind women working there.

We also fell in love with the work of a bunch of the local artists, especially Sam Conlon, a 21-time rag football world champion (which we folks not in the know think of as “hacky sack”), who uses a cutting torch to craft art from discarded steel. She calls her work “painting with fire,” a perfect encapsulation of her energy and passion. We also loved learning about the Ste. Genevieve Artist Colony, where such luminaries as Thomas Hart Benton summered and taught. It was there in the 1930s that classical American artists started painting like Americans instead of Europeans. Deep in the Depression years, those artists adopted a growing faith in the “worth of the common man,” portraying “local people with respect and local places with regard for their unique qualities.” Their influence helped move art from the “domain of the privileged” to the realm of “everyday American lives.”

It was there, in the “realm of everyday lives” that our consternation about our hats resurfaced. As we lamented to one of the Visitor Center ladies that we had not encountered a single Great River Road hat … or t-shirt or hoodie or anything else for that matter … she gave me a Great River Road keychain and kindly suggested that we “go talk with Deb; she’ll make one for you.”

Deb Says Sew is a small shop on the main highway just outside of Ste. Gen, next door to the local McDonald’s. It is a museum of branded wear for local schools, sports teams, clubs, dance studios, etc., etc., etc. Deb Stoltzer greeted us with a smile and fashionably tattered jeans, told us that business was better than she ever would have expected, listened as we told her about our hat search, ratcheted her attention up a notch when we suggested a potential business opportunity, then spent the next 45 minutes or so searching catalogs for the ideal hat blanks. Fortunately, she and Rebecca were on the same page. I wandered through the shop and read some news stories on my phone, knowing that any contribution I tried to offer at that point would be of no avail. Plus, I had no clue that there could be so many different catalogs with so many different styles of baseball caps. It was a bit overwhelming. I felt a lot like “a guy.”

Deb ordered some caps for delivery the next day. Back at the inn, I Googled some Great River Road logo images, made a pdf file, and sent it to Deb. The logo appears on highways from Minnesota to Louisiana; it appears on maps everywhere, including most state maps; and it is affiliated with the government. Since I reckoned that my tax dollars paid for it, the idea of a copyright issue never entered my mind.

The next day, after I finished my work and as Deb was embroidering our hats, Rebecca and I did some touring … the kind of touring that made us want to take this trip.

Chapter 2A: Kaskaskia, Illinois: While the geography of the river is complicated, some parts of it are pretty simple: the Mississippi runs through Minnesota and Louisiana. Other than those two states, the river defines the boundary between states, with Wisconsin, Illinois, Kentucky, Tennessee, and Mississippi to the east, and Iowa, Missouri, and Arkansas to the west. Kaskaskia, Illinois is an exception. Despite being part of Illinois, it is a tiny dot of land on the west side of the river, surrounded on three sides by Missouri. Roughly two hundred years ago, it was the first Illinois State Capital and a thriving center of commerce. I am not sure which moved first, the capital or the river, but they both have. The capital is now in Springfield, and the river flows to the east of Kaskaskia. Kaskaskia appears on the map as a teeny weeny anomaly that consists of a church, a small museum, some farmland, some pecan trees, and 14 people, 2 of whom we can say with confidence are very nice. (We did not meet any of the others.)

When we arrived, Denise was mowing the grass behind the church, and her mother Viola was gathering pecans. They were thrilled to unlock the old church, and I suspect they would have been pleased if we had stayed all day. They were proud of their little piece of the planet despite its surprising isolation. I also suspect that Kaskaskia is not as much of an anomaly as I think it is. As rivers change course, many communities must become isolated on the “wrong” side. I wonder how many change their geopolitical affiliation and how many become separated from their local seat of government. I seriously doubt that many governors or state officials visit Kaskaskia; the closest bridge (south to Chester) and the closest ferry (north to Modoc) are both about 20 miles away.

We left Kaskaskia with pocketfuls of delicious fresh pecans … a practice that began there but did not end for many, many miles.

Chapter 3: Deb finished our hats. They were perfect. She wouldn’t charge us for them in hopes they might turn into a regular flow of business. We hugged, left, and have been wearing them since.

We made our first sale a few hours later when the lady from the Ste. Genevieve Visitor Center ordered a few. Our second sale came a few days after that at the Visitor Center in Tunica, Mississippi, the Gateway to the Delta. Fortunately, we have not yet filled those orders. We really do not want to get into any trouble or fight any unnecessary legal battles, especially over the $20 or $30 windfall the hats might bring.

Chapter 4: One of the first things you see from Route 61 driving into Vicksburg is a gigantic Mississippi River towboat, The Mississippi. It looks like it should be in the river, but it isn’t. It is on dry land, part of the Army Corps of Engineer’s Lower Mississippi River Museum. The museum is superb, but it does not have much to do with our hat saga. Faye Wilkinson does. She was staffing the front desk as we entered. She also sits on the Mississippi River Parkway Commission, the organization that oversees the Great River Road.

Faye did not notice our hats on first glance. We made our obligatory initial inquiry about the whereabouts of the rest rooms, after which we started our tour of the museum. I had to interrupt the tour for a conference call with a client. As I asked if there might be a quiet place for a call, Faye noticed my hat.

The “Wow!” Where’d you get that hat?” did not have a ring of warmth to it. In fact, it might have even been a tad hostile. It certainly did not have the genteel lilt you might expect from a refined woman of Vicksburg. “We had it made in Ste. Genevieve,” I replied. Then a ranger escorted me to a quiet room where I could make my call.

The rest was up to Rebecca. She’s a master.

An hour later, after my call ended, Rebecca and Faye were busy jawboning and smiling at the museum’s front desk. Faye had learned all about our trip. She wanted to be part of our blog notification list. She wanted to learn more about my career of writing about water. She even said she’d be interested in my coming to speak about our drive at a meeting of the Mississippi River Parkway Commission. From all indications, she was intrigued by the prospect of hats and clothing branded with the logo of the Great River Road.

The Great River Road, we learned from Faye, has lost all government support. The signage is under state control … and expense. There is no maintenance budget since all of the roads that comprise the Great River Road are U.S., state, or county highways. We weren’t surprised.

We have been surprised, however, to realize how few people do what we have done. Driving the length of the Mississippi River just seems so obvious. If folks drive Route 66 or the Blue Ridge Parkway or California Route 1 or Skyline Drive or the Natchez Trace, why not the River Road? What it may lack in mountains and surf, it more than makes up for in bluffs, vistas, personalities, music, food, history, and art.

I hope Faye follows through on her invitation for me to speak with the Mississippi River Parkway Commission. I’d love to confirm the importance of their work by regaling them with a few stories that might help trigger some passion and creativity.  The GRR needs some bling: branded tchotchkies folks can sport to let others know where they have been.

Sit tight and stay patient, Debbie. We might be selling lots of hats yet! And if any of you readers happen to need some personalized embroidery as you pass through Ste. Genevieve, definitely pay a visit to Deb Says Sew. It’s gotta be the best in town!

© 2018 Kenneth Mirvis