This whole idea got started from Gillman, proprietor of the 30's Regs' [*] favorite online virtual watering hole in 1997 and 1998. The "Chat Meet At DaGills" came along at just the right time in my schedule; I need to escape Washington, DC and Northern Virginia for 5 or 6 days every quarter. If you've ever lived here, you wouldn't have to ask why. For those who don't know, the "Quad Cities" are Davenport & Bettendorf, IA; Rock Island & Moline, IL, straddling the Mississippi. As I contemplated this trip, all I could think of was Meredith Willson's The Music Man, from which the above title is derived. Prof. Harold Hill, a man being pursued by many, has to leave the train, just after crossing from IL to IA. On this trip, I became aware indeed that "There's nothing halfway / About the Iowa way to treat you."
Thursday, 27 May 1999 -- An initiation to Iowa hospitality
After my usual morning-of-the-trip packing routine, I took my cat Thomas over to the Kennel and headed directly to Washington National Airport, where I caught an 11:00 AM flight on United to Chicago O'Hare. I have to take back some of what I've said over the years about methodically jam-packed airliners: this whole Boeing 737 had only 26 passengers, according to what I overheard from the flight attendants near my aft seat alone in the rear rows. Since I could get at my camera in my carry-on bag, I took this chance to shoot about a dozen pictures of assorted towns and cities on the track through OH and IN, which I tried later to identify on the map. I made an online album of six "keepers" among the towns I captured on film. The connection to my United Express flight to Moline, IL was fairly easy--just a walk down the B concourse. It takes a person back to the golden days of aviation to walk out in the open and climb the stairs onto those small planes. We made the hop across the width of IL and I had an easy exit from the "cozy"-sized Quad Cities Airport. When I got to the rental counter, Hertz had no more compacts as I had reserved, so I got bumped up one class to a Ford Contour. I like driving Ford rentals, since my own vehicle is also a Ford and has similar controls. I had studied the maps in great detail before coming, and with the final assistant of the rental car map, I found my way over the Mississippi on the I-74 bridge into IA, around to the west on I-80, and finally to my place of lodging, the Davenport Comfort Inn on Northwest Blvd. I had originally planned to stay in downtown at the new Radisson Quad Cities Plaza on 3rd Street, but was faced in the month of May with a daunting pile of dental bills. I must soon face the imminence of 40--sigh. After I dumped my gear into my simple-yet-sufficient two double bed room #247 at about 3:00 PM CDT, I dug out the phone number Gillman had given me over ICQ before I left. I don't care who I'm meeting, the first contact beyond the normal online ones is always a strange thing. He asked where I was and said he'd be on his way. I walked down from the 2nd floor of the Inn and sat out in the bright sun and 80 degree warmth. It was so quiet compared to Washington. This was almost what you'd call a "rural" road, except for the rock and stone supply center across the street and the Iowa Machine Shed Restaurant next door. I watched the parade of vehicles until a Ford F-150 pickup headed towards me and I finally knew my ride had come. Gillman, being a Union carpenter, is what I'd call a real truck driver, not one of those white-collar wannabes in the macho vehicles of our own city. I sat on the right seat, wedging Gillady (Gillman's wife) in the middle, as we headed towards their home near the city center, stopping off to get some steaks on the way for dinner. Such quality food I had never seen for so little. It is good to live near the source. After I met up with the rest of the Gill-family (including their two young daughters), I rode back to the Inn in the truck and got my Contour for the evening, since I wasn't going to be drinking. We were soon joined by Honestgirl, more or less of a "local" compared to me. Along with "Payback", a carpenter friend of Gillman, we retired to his screened-in backyard gazebo, built, I presume, with his own hands. It was possible to put an LP gas grill inside of this structure since it was not enclosed, yet it never got rained on. I also spent some time looking over his elaborate koi ponds, fitted with a "wastewater treatment plant" built from a plastic barrel liner. I listened to Honestgirl describe her list of commitments, including work the next day. I appeared to be one of the few with the ability to stay long, since I'm unattached and my job gives me flexible vacation options. Gillman barbecued our rib-eyes, right there in the gazebo, and ended up having to use toothpicks to hold them together since they were so lean. Baked potatoes and corn (though certainly not IA corn this early) rounded out the meal. I left this homelife scene at about 9:30 PM and drove back to the Inn, for the solitude I always seem to treasure on a trip when I can get a moment of it.
Gillman & Gillady at the #15 locks; Government Bridge in background
Friday, 28 May 1999 -- A day without firm plans, by the River
There were no firm requirements for my reporting
to DaGills' this morning, so I lounged about in the style that is impossible
with my early morning life of beating the traffic into Arlington, VA.
After an 8:45 AM continental breakfast at the Comfort Inn (those meals
will hold you most times, I've learned), I drove down into town along Northwest
Blvd. to the North Park shopping center, Davenport's idea of a regional
mall. This is to complement South Park Mall in Moline, which must
have had a good windfall of business after the Comedy Central program started.
I noted at the entrance the fabulous arcade at this mall, where I played
Skee-Ball and ended up winning a set of 10 plastic Army Men and 10 similar
Ninja characters (four of the white and six of the black, since good overcomes
evil). I walked all about this mall, waiting for it to open (why
do they all insist on 10 AM?), noticing no small number of seniors
out for their Mall Walking. I was in search of Hallmark Journal books,
since I write about 8 of them a year now and keep looking for ones I don't
have. My Mom's habits of collecting things is starting to infect
me. Though I found no new books, I bought Mom a Cherished Teddy
for her glass caseful and made sure I had Comfort Inn soap and shampoo
to add to my collection of hotel toiletries before I left town. I
ended up buying a new Casio watch at JCPenney after I tried replacing the
lithium battery in my old G-Shock after 8 faithful years of service at
one of those while-you-wait repair counters. This was the first place
that could get the case open, but alas, they couldn't get the watch to
start back up. I learn from these mistakes. When I finally
met up at DaGills, we headed "down the hill" from their place to the river,
to visit Rock Island Arsenal. Along the way, we stopped at the #15
dam and locks, watching a river barge get "locked through" in the downstream
direction. This was a surprise to me: all of my life I did
not know that the Mississippi River has dams and locks! I pictured
it as one long strip of water with a gradual pitch to cause the current.
In school, we were always taught of the dams on rivers like the Colorado;
I had seen the majesty of Parker Dam during a Feb 1998 trip to AZ and plan
to take some time on my Vegas 99 vacation to see Hoover Dam. This
one, however, was only about a 15-foot drop. We stood at the vistors'
center, as the bundle of barges entered, was lowered, and left. The
one immediately below emanated an intense molasses smell, but Gillman's
industrial knowledge led him to believe it could be one of many agricultural
products headed for some unseen market to the south.
Raymond_37, after visiting the Museum |
We got back into the Gill-truck at about 2:00 PM and drove onto Rock Island proper, where we toured the Rock Island Arsenal Museum. This reminded me to some extent of visiting the West Point Museum in 1997, though a different Army mission was clearly the subject of this collection. Most notable were the two long walls of glassed-in gallery, containing a great number of US and foreign small arms. A catalogue was available for collectors' perusal. We headed back across the State Line into IA and had a late lunch near the waterfront at a pub on the eastern side of Davenport, near a site where Civil War re-enactments are held. I had myself a "tenderloin melt", along with truly authentic hand-cut fries, another fine serving of the foodstuffs that must make life in the Quad Cities a well-fed one. We made our way down the river in the truck and parked near the central waterfront, where the President Riverboat Casino is docked. Gillman explained that IL-side boats had to be underway to have gaming, while the only stipulation for IA is that it take place on a boat, which can be moored. On this particular day, the river was several feet higher than usual; the President's gangplank normally doesn't slope upwards. We did some scouting out for Saturday night, noting a new club named "Babylon", which was strangely-enough done up in an Egyptian motif. When we got back to DaGills' home, Gillman graciously extended to me the use of his PC setup and internet access, so that I might dial into my shell account back here in Virginia with a telnet connection. It was not unlike visiting my former home in MI for Christmas, where Dad has an even better arrangement. I finally asked to be excused at about 6:30 PM, since I needed some time to myself again to think, after all that went on. |
Saturday, 29 May 1999 -- More time near the Riverfront
Today we had planned to be downtown at the President
by about 2:00 PM, so I had even more time to myself if I wanted it.
Gillman said I could just drop in whenever; his is a most laid back way
of having people over. I'm used to toeing tight schedules for social
events in my usual life. I decided to see what breakfast was like
at the Machine Shed, "a restaurant honoring the American Farmer", as I
believe the slogan went. They had a great many agricultural implements
set out on their property, including some from the big local manufacturer
John Deere, whose colors I've tried to replicate with this page.
I never saw a tractor engine up close before. The restaurant itself
reminded me some of The Cracker Barrel, and they served drinks in mason
jars in the style of Po' Folks. The music, of course, was nothing
but country, and my lampstand was fashioned from an old Armour Lard can.
It was good eating. Notable were the wooden salt and pepper shakers,
resembling those dark blue Harvestore silos. I saw one at DaGills'
house later and thought they had bought one--but it turns out Gillman,
himself, had made them on his lathe. There is a man who loves
his trade.
President Riverboat Casino Note height of river, angle of gangway |
Later that morning, curiosity had built in me and I drove on down to check out the President Riverboat in advance. It had your typical complement of casino games, familiar from my visits to Las Vegas, but it also had windows wrapped all the way around the three gaming decks. Windows, of course, are a casino rarity. The only other place I've seen them is at the Harrah's in Laughlin, NV, where one had a panoramic view of the Colorado above Lake Havasu. I played a few slots, mainly to get some of their unique tokens for my other big collection, that of "funny money". I have a big box of every kind of token, chip, etc. that I've found taking the place of cash over the years. These machines took no regular quarters or nickels. After a quick turnaround at about 1:15 PM at the Inn, I drove on down to park the Contour at DaGills', on the rough old brick surface of their street. We waited for Honestgirl to show back up again, but matters with her family kept her home. I drove on down with Gillman and Gillady in the rental and parallel parked at a meter downstream of the Riverboat. We headed in and played some hands of blackjack. They had lower-wager tables here than I ever saw in the fancy Vegas hotels. Then, we walked up Front Street to one of Gillman's favorite spots, the Front Street Brewery. One could view their brew-apparatus in the basement, an apparent inspiration to Gillman's own homebrewing hobby. Just like Campbell's, I suppose, "beer is good food." We met with Paintboy and his wife, from chat, whose handle did not ring a bell since they were "before my time" on Yahoo Chat. We sat about, talking, drinking, and finally eating. I had a grilled bratwurst dinner, but I have been irrevocably spoiled by eating real brats in Germany, I'm afraid. When we left, I went to try a few more quarter slots as the others went on ahead to the "hanging gardens" court at Babylon, where a live band was supposed to play. When I finally arrived, just after sunset, I waited for the band to return, then had to leave when I realized it was some sort of newer hard rock that I was too old to start into a proper jam alongside. Gillman said there are usually tons of blues and jazz bands in the Quad Cities, especially at the time of the festival honoring Davenport's own Bix Beiderbecke. A full moon was rising over the President's lights and the Mississippi as I made my way to the car, leaving the Gills to take a cab home as they had planned. |
Sunday, 30 May 1999 -- A conclusion to business
I knew I needed to get back to DaGills' house sometime today, since they had left their Minolta SLR in the trunk of my car (how trusting of them!) the day before. I chowed a breakfast of granola bars and Cheerios from the bags I bought at the grocery store on one of my trips between the house and the Inn. After I left a message about my plans, I drove back down to the riverfront for one last visit to the Riverboat. I tried my hand this time at some nickel slots and played a few more hands of blackjack. The dealer was kind enough to wait for me after shuffling when I finally got through to Gillman. I seem to know enough basics never to drop that much at a blackjack table; eventually it gets tiresome and I will typically have the sense to walk away. For Sunday afternoon, I lounged about the Gills' back yard, along with Gillman's tradesman guest from Thursday night. Both of these gentlemen had an agreeable way to them, and we talked a lot about industrial technology. We had particularly heated discussions on the topics of hot-rolled steel and electric-arc furnaces. I spent a good bit of time back by that gazebo, noticing how different the older back yards of Davenport were than the expanses of sparsely-landscaped grass that I know from the Fairfax County, VA suburbs. People in the Quad Cities seem to have a real "sense of place". Maybe they're more isolated than us, or maybe it's just the way people are in the midwest. I was reminded a lot, actually, of my many trips to northern MI and WI, up in the dairy country where Dad grew up. Gillady's accent reminded me a lot of the UP-er accents of my Menominee, MI cousins. It was a fairly hot day again; the 4th day of generalized sunshine. It seems I had "brought the good weather with me", for it had been cold and rainy up until then. At the insistance of the younger of the Gills' daughters, a concerted effort managed to put together the wading pool kit they had bought for their back deck. Gillman explained that he had a real pool back there once, but the towering oak trees, etc. just kept dumping bio-mass upon the water. So now it's the koi ponds, which he believes will one day attract hungry ducks, just as the ponds in our townhome development do. Since I knew I had to have my gear packed pretty much the night before if I wanted a timely departure in the morning, I said good by early again, after paying one last visit to Gillman's PC in the basement, which appeared to be his wintertime substitute for the gazebo. I mananged to get a 6.5-day report off my bo-hemian.com stats reporting utility! My records are all that more complete. Gillman talked of having a later-summer event in 2000, so as to stay clear of kids' graduations, etc. I still had a wonderful time in Davenport and with DaGills, though. It was my kind of place, those Quad Cities, except for the scarcity of work. The old maxim "bloom where you're planted" was beckoning me to get on the plane and return. I drove to my room for one last night and got my single carry-on case in order. It was a good bit heavier, of course, with the souvenir debris I had acquired.
Monday, 31 May 1999 -- Back to where I belong
I woke in plenty of time this morning, it turns out, to make it back to the airport, return my car, and meet my flight. I was able to have the car loaded by 5:40 AM and proceeded to pay my bill in travelers cheques, since I hate credit card charges for travel that has already completed. I partook of the continental breakfast at 6:00 AM, right when the room opened. It was a beautiful scene, driving east on I-80 in the rural outskirts of Davenport and Bettendorf. As it was in "Oklahoma", there was something of a "bright golden haze on the meadow", as the sun rose before me. I realize, of course, that the area I passed through was close enough to be consumed by Quad Cities sprawl some day not too long from now. Everything grows, it seems. I turned south, crossed back into IL the way I had come, and found the rental car dropoff at the tiny Moline airport. It was even smaller than the one in Green Bay, WI, which I always found a curiosity when I've flown there. Since it was Memorial Day, the Hertz counter had no one there to take my travelers cheque payment for the car. Oh well, I'll have to deposit them when the VISA bill arrives. I was soon checked on through to Washington National and boarded the small commuter jet to O'Hare at 9:00 AM. After the hopping back across IL, I had a 90-minute layover at O'Hare before I transfered to a 727. Things were clouded up, so I saw no cities below on the return. We made the approach from the Rosslyn, VA direction down the Potomac and landed on runway 18 at National. The new terminal there is quite something--so long as you're on United or US Airways. I called up the parking lot from near the baggage claim where I had no baggage and got a pick-up on the shuttle bus. I was telling the driver how much I feared for my evergreen shrubs after not watering them for 4 days in which I understood there was no rain. When I finally drove back home, the bushes were all right. Everything was as I left it, except I could not get my Critter back until the next day, June 1, since the Kennel was closed. I still wonder how badly I would have wasted that extended weekend if I loafed about in my typical at-home style. It is a strange life, when my favorite options include going nowhere and staying home or, in the alternative, hopping on a plane and living 800 miles away for 4 days.
Note 1--The Regs--Short for "30's Regulars", a group of users, mostly from the US and Canada, who have gathered around the Yahoo! Chat, Society and Culture, Thirties rooms. Other notable meetings from this group: Las Vegas, Nov 1997; Gatlinburg, Apr 1998.