Day 29, September 29—Destination the West Side of Danville

Muncie

About 12 miles west of Danville is the little town of Muncie, which has about 200 inhabitants. (The 2000 Census recorded 155, but the population sign claims 200.) They continued their Christmas tradition form 28 years, with the Muncie Baptist Church putting on a live nativity scene along the alleyway behind the church building from 6:00 to 8:30 p.m. on the first Friday, Saturday and Sunday nights in December.

When Mary and I attended that event a few years ago, we were surprised to see a couple of camels tied up. Of course there were also the usual farm animals that might well have been in or near a stable in Bible times.

I don’t think it’s a sister city thing, but the camels come from Muncie, Indiana. The church is a friendly place, and they even build half an hour of fellowship time into their Sunday morning schedule: Sunday school 9:00 a.m., Fellowship time 10:00, Worship service 10:30. Sadly, the lady who got the live nativity started passed away about 5 years ago. Then the pastor of many years left. Then they had to get camels from Ohio, and finally the company that owned the camels started charging $3000. Others had started competing live nativity scenes, perhaps inspired by the one in Muncie, so last year (2009) they decided not to have the event. It’s a loss.

I met a very young 83-year-old lady in town who had recently acquired a horse-drawn sleigh. Along with the sleigh, she got photos, stories, and a complete history. The sleigh was complete rebuilt a few years ago by some Amish people in Columbia, Missouri, and it’s in mint condition. The new owner is hoping for at least one sleigh ride (she doesn’t have a horse), and she is planning to display the sleigh on the porch of a large house in town at Christmas time this year.

Conkeytown

Just about a mile and a half 3 miles southwest of Muncie, was Conkeytown, laid out by Jeff Conkey in 1839. Matt Smith’s Café was the scene of many battles among the feuding Cannons, Hayses, and Phelpses. The men of these families were all of very large stature and heavy build, and they all loved to brawl. The story is also told of a colorful local by the name of Jim Knox, who would stand behind a mule and let it kick him in the chest, without so much as batting an eye.

The town soon had a store, a blacksmith shop, a gristmill, and a post office. Things seemed peaceful enough until Matt Smith from Danville opened a dancehall, wine room, restaurant, and a few sleeping rooms. Smith brought in some show girls from Ohio, and their evening productions packed out the place, drawing young men from far and wide.

Conkeytown also served as an Army recruiting station during the Civil War. Jim Knox and Jim Cannon were pretty wild until their conversions at a little church that still stands near the old Conkeytown. Instrumental in their spiritual awakening was the Reverned Thomas Fulton, who, like some other preachers of his day, was reputed to be a very good fighter.

Like many other early local towns, Conkeyville eventually faded away and is no more.

Oakwood

Oakwood is home to a very dynamic high school football team. It was also the home town of Darrin Fletcher, who played baseball for the Los Angeles Dodgers, the Philadelphia Phillies, the Montreal Expos, and the Toronto Bluejays. He played professional ball from 1989 until his midseason retirement in 2002.

American actress Angela Watson was born on November 12, 1975 in Danville, and she grew up in Oakwood. She’s probably best known for her role in the sitcom Step by Step, which I confess to never having seen. Watson grew up as the youngest in the family on their farm near Oakwood, until she was 10, when her parents moved the family to Cape Coral, Florida, and began entering her in beauty pageants. She did well, and she would eventually win 60 crowns and 200 trophies. In Dallas Texas, when she was only 13, she won Model of the Year. She would later graduate from John Burroughs High School in Burbank, California.

Watson is on the Screen Actors Guild National Board of Directors. She also founded Child Actors Supporting Themselves (CAST), an organization that trains child actors and athletes to handle their finances and that aims to help protect them from those who would take financial advantage of them. She hasn’t been in any major movies that I know of, but it seems she keeps busy with various philanthropic causes.

On Oakwood Road there are several support our troop signs, listing the name and branch of service of the person from Oakwood who is defending our nation. That’s an awesome concept, and I believe I’ll try to implement something like it in Champaign when this walk is over.

The support-our-troops signs are made and put up by a lady who is a resident of Oakwood. She and her husband started the practice, and she has kept it up since his death. I salute her for this fine and important work, and for showing such great support for our troops.

Support Our Troops Signs in Oakwood

Oakwood was founded in 1870 and became a coal-mining center in the 1890s. There was actually a competing settlement, also called “Oakwood,” that was started around 1868, but  whose cemetery has burials as old as 1838. That Oakwood is about a mile and a quarter south of Muncie, and the cemetery is still there. Though the sign at the entrance says “McFarland Cemetery,” some locals call it the “Dalbey Cemetery.” Both titles derive from local family names.

When the Glenburn Mine closed in 1898, the town of Glenburn, not far to the northeast of Oakwood, perished with it. Some of the buildings (at least 5 houses) were moved to Oakwood following the demise of that mine. Some of the miners travelled on foot to other mines in the area, and some simply left the area. The old Glenburn store continued in operation, run by Oliver M.  VanAllen’s three lovely daughters, and did not close until some time in the 1950s.

Oakwood itself started life as Oakwood Station on the Indianapolis, Bloomington, and Western Railroad, which crossed Oakwood Township in 1870 and 1871. The town at the station was platted in April, 1870, just 5 months before Muncie would be platted, in September of the same year. In 1871 Henry Dulin opened a drug and grocery store, and a Dr. Gavin opened a practice. 

Later that same year, a terrible fire, fanned by high winds, burned almost the entire village. Two local shopkeepers by the name of Johns and Stewart were financially ruined. Henry Dulin rebuilt his store and later became postmaster. The fire even destroyed the railroad depot, only partially built at the time.

The following year, 1872, a smallpox epidemic struck Oakwood and the surrounding communities. Oakwood reported 15 cases, with 2 deaths, and nearby Muncie and Fithian fared even worse. But Oakwood weathered this disaster too, and by 1874 there were 12 houses and 4 buildings that housed businesses.

Oakwood is a genuine community, with community spirit and a determination to persevere. People have lovely yards and flower gardens, and the major business, as elsewhere in this rural area, is agriculture, with corn and soybean fields coming right up to the edge of town. I would venture that it’s a great place to live and raise kids.

Lovely Fall Marigolds in Oakwood

Not far south of Oakwood is a little winery. I'm used to seeing grapes grown on hill soil, but the grapes in this vineyard seem to be thriving.

 

Verdant Grape Vines

Sign at Entrance to Sleepy Creek Vineyards

Hillery

East of Oakwood, U.S. 150 turns toward the northeast and skirts Kickapoo State Park, then crosses I-74, where it runs through, Hillery, an unincorporated community in Danville Township, Vermilion County. From there Route 150 runs along Danville’s Main Street. It crosses a bridge into Danville proper, originally called the “Victors’ Bridge,” but later renamed to honor Korean War veterans. Just to the right, immediately following the bridge, is a statue of what looks like a Greek god with a sword, and the names of World War I veterans are inscribed on the sides of the obelisk that supports the statue. An American Flag on a flagpole waves high above the statue.

God willing, I’ll start the last leg of my walk on the north side of Danville’s Main Street right at the war memorial at 8:00 a.m. Thursday (tomorrow). Only one more day to go.

Day 28, September 28—Destination Fithian

Tuesday dawned a bit hazy and with a few clouds. The thermometer read 44 degrees at 5:30 a.m. For the first time on the walk, I wore blue jeans instead of shorts, and when I reached Ogden, the temperature had climbed only to 61 degrees, so that was a good choice.

I left St. Joseph at about 7:30 or so. I skipped the overpass that lifts traffic over the north-south rail line just east of town, then found a place to park along the road and began walking. At a place where I parked farther east, I was just getting the bicycle off the pickup when I spotted a military license plate on a passing vehicle. Just as I was putting the bike back on the front of the pickup about an hour later, the same man drove back in the opposite direction.

He was wearing a “proud veteran” cap, and I shook his hand and thanked him for his service to our country. We had a good talk for about 15 minutes, and found that we were in agreement as to how we feel about supporting our troops and veterans. I gave him one of my flyers, and we shook hands one last time before he headed back home.

Ogden

In Ogden, I parked in front of the library, which was actually open for the morning. I saw a lady on the porch of a house across the street, where they had a nice American Flag display, and I thanked her for flying the flag. Something about her seemed familiar, and I asked, “Do I know you?” She turned out to be a former professional colleague with whom I had worked in publishing for a number of years. She invited me in for a cup of coffee.

I had met her husband, but I had never met her brother, who had been visiting them for a few days. Because she worked on the library committee, she and her husband Mike were able to tell me quite a bit about it. She said she worked on the committee long enough to get her name on the plaque, and later quit, but I happen to know she also has a full-time job and kids, so she has plenty to do.

The median age in Ogden is 33, which is about twice that of the residents of Honduras. The town is in Ogden Township, Champaign County. The population is about 740, according to pre-Census estimates.

Ogden has its own library, called the Ogden Rose Public Library. They have just under 10,000 volumes, and they circulate just under 2000 books per year. Not bad for this little community. The library and village hall were rebuilt in 1998.

Ogden’s Rose Library, Collocated with Village Hall

To the northeast is the town park, and it has a very tasteful veterans memorial, and an American Flag flying from a flagpole. On 1 side there is list of World War I, World War II, and Korean War veterans from the Ogden Community. On the other is a plaque bearing the names of local Vietnam War veterans. What got my attention was that more than once, there were 2 or 3 people listed with the same family name.

The inscription on the monument reads, “Proudly we pay tribute to the men and women of Ogden Community who answered their country’s call. I’m blessed to these small towns honoring their veterans in this way. I’m sure some day the community will add the names of our more recent American service members to the same monument or to a nearby monument in the same park.

 Veterans Memorial in Memorial Park

 

Ogden was settled in 1870. The surrounding prairie was often bog or swampland, and drainage of land to make it suitable for farming continues to be an issue today. Just the day before I has seen a long tile line buried in standing soybeans, and much of the farmland near Ogden is also tiled.

Just west of Ogden was a grove of shag bark hickory trees, that came to be known as “Hickory Grove,” or simply “The Grove.” In 1853, the same year that my home town of Mt. Carroll was founded, John Harmeson moved from Anderson, Indiana, to the present site of Ogden. He bought 9,160 acres of land from the U.S. Government at $1.20 per acre. He then parceled out the land between his sons. John Anderson, his son, got the land where present-day Ogden is, and in 1861 he sold it to a relative, John Leney, after whom Ogden’s Leney Street is named.

John Leney platted the town in 1870. His farmhouse stood near the railroad station. He named the town after John Ogden, an early settler, who sold land to the railroad officials in exchange for their naming the town after him. In 1870 Theodore E. Haworth built the first house in the new settlement, and Patrick Brennan built another soon after. The same year, Gabriel Johnson built the third house, and William R. Hill built a store building. Thomas J. Carpenter opened the store in June, 1870.

The Champaign County fairgrounds used to be at Ogden, and of course the fair drew people from all over Champaign County. The Ogden American Legion post (998) was organized in 1946, and it continues to be an active service organization today. It was the American Legion who raised the funds to establish Memorial Park and to build the veterans memorial there.

I am indebted to the Rose Library staff for the use of the 1970 Ogden Centennial booklet that they keep on their reference shelf. The also have bound copies of numerous back issues of The Leader, the local newspaper they share with St. Joseph.

Another excellent history they have in their collection is a book that was recommended to me only yesterday (and twice more today), Essays on the Historical Geography of Champaign County: From the Distant Past to 2005, written by Dannel McCollum. The book is not only well researched, but it is also a good read, unlike many history books I’ve struggled through.

Homer
South of Route 150 on Illinois Route 49 is the little town of Homer, which is on the Norfolk and Southern Railway line. When the rails were laid south of town, the entire populace got involved. They used 18 yokes of oxen (36 oxen) to literally pull the buildings of the town south to the rail line, to the present site of the town.

Fithian

Just east of Ogden is Fithian. Millions of people travel past these little towns each year on I-74, which roughly parallels U.S. 150, my chosen route. Being of a curious nature, I’ve often left the Interstate and poked along Route 150, just to see what’s there.

Interstate highways are a great invention, though it’s sad in a way that they were copied from Adolf Hitler’s design for Autobahnen in Nazi Germany. Dwight D. Eisenhower saw those incredible 4-lane highways during and after World War II, and he decided the United States needed something of the sort. Once he was president, he was in a position to do something about the U.S. road system.

In 1919, as a young Army officer, Eisenhower had been sent across the United States with a convoy of Army vehicles, at least in part to assess the condition of the roads. By 1921, there were the beginnings of a plan to build a national network of roads.

If you take our communication system for granted, you’re not as old as I am. My parents jolted down rutted dirt roads for a good number of years. At some time in the 1930s, my dad saw his first concrete highway, U.S. Route 52, which ran right past the grade school he attended. Having never seen concrete before, the schoolboys were curious. Farm boys all, one night after school they picked up a sledge hammer left by workers and slammed it down on the smooth, gray surface, only to get a shower of concrete chips in their eyes.

When my wife’s parents came to Illinois in the 1950s so her dad Willis Robert Coggins could assume his duties as a new professor of music at the University of Illinois, there was no Interstate highway leading to Champaign. Instead, there was an old highway that turned to brick, starting at the Illinois state line. Both town people, Willis and Jesse thought they must be near the end of the earth, as they drove across a nearly flat prairie with cornfields stretching away as far as the eye could see.

They lived in Champaign long enough to see the Interstate highways extend their web throughout East-Central Illinois, and to see U.S. Route 150 paved with concrete, and then capped year after year with low-bituminous-base blacktop.

Today the Interstate Highway system boasts nearly 47,000 miles of roadway, all at least 4 lanes, and more miles are planned.

Fithian is in Oakwood Township, Vermilion County, the last Illinois county on this journey. It has a population of about 500 residents. The people who try to attract tourists to Central Illinois capitalize on local Lincoln lore through a campaign called “Finding Lincoln.” You don’t have to search, though. There are statues and historic markers littering the landscape.

There’s also a trace of Lincoln’s sojourning at Fithian, which is named after a Dr. William Fithian, who gave some land so the community could be built. Just a mile before one comes to Fithian, going east, and a little way south, there is a farm that he bought about 1830 right about when he came to Danville. He once owned more than 900 acres of land near Fithian. There’s no evidence, though, that Fithian ever lived at his farm.

Fithian and Lincoln were friends, and Fithian supported Lincoln for the presidency. In the mid 1800s Lincoln is said to have slept at Fithian’s farm on his travels. This guy slept in so many houses across Illinois, that his own bed back home must have been almost unused. And of course he also stayed often in Fithian’s home in Danville.

Dr. Fithian served in both the Illinois House and Senate. Fithian the town became a livestock and grain center, and it benefitted from the Illinois Traction System (ITS, an interurban rail line) that was built through Fithian in 1903. After the line became less important, and especially in the Great Depression of the late 1920s and early 1930s, Fithian began to lose population. (No one knows where this lost population went, and I’m still trying to find them.)

 Fithian Power Station and Depot for Interurban Electric Train Line

 

Grain and livestock are still important to the area, though, and there are some examples of interesting architecture in the town. Fithian still has about 500 residents, and they live in about 200 houses.

Tree Thump Didjeridu Company

I spent a couple of hours looking for a building in Fithian associated with this little company, but of course I didn't find it there. Rural Fithian (not the town itself) is home to the Tree Thump Didjeridu Company, operated by Phil Clark and Ben Hay, both musicians who play the didjeridu, a musical instrument played by Aboriginal peoples of Australia in Arnhem Land in the very northern part of Australia’s Northern Territory and in nearby Western Australia and Queensland. The name Tree Thump, by the way, is shared by a band. Check out the didjeridu company at http://www.treethumpdidjco.com/. At that site you can also hear a sample of didjeridu music.

The highway through Fithian is lined on the north side with American Flags, and I mentioned that to several residents. Lots of homes also display the Flag, and I thanked a number of residents for flying Old Glory. Though I saw a number of veteran license plates, I didn't get to speak to any veterans in Fithian.

I did speak to the Ford dealer, though. If Don Stallings stays in business until 2013, the dealership will be 100 years old. He took it over after his dad retired, and he worked his way up in the company, starting "in the back," working on cars. When people ask the Don when he's going to retire, he says, "Hey. This is my retirement." I don't know about you, but when I'm ready to trade in my old faithful Ford Ranger, I'm planning to go see Don Stallings.

North and northwest of Fithian there is an east-west ridge called “California Ridge,” that served as a wagon route in the 1800s for people going west as far as California. Invenergy of Chicago is planning a wind farm there, and construction may begin as early as 2011. In fact I met a section of a tower for a wind turbine when I was biking back west on Route 150 at one point today. It may be headed there. It took up both lanes of U.S. Route 150. I sure hope he didn’t meet a combine with the corn head on coming the other way.

 California Ridge in Far Distance, North and East of Royal

"Faith, hope, and love—and the greatest of these is love."
Also north of Fithian is the little community of Hope, with just a handful of houses left. In 2000, there were 415 residents, but it's hard to believe there are that many folks living there now. The local people say the town was originally named "Faith, Hope, and Charity."

South of U.S. 150, just west of Fithian I had stopped to thank the Saddlers for their beautiful display of Old Glory. We had a great conversation for at least half an hour, and I got to help move a metal cabinet. The Saddlers were cleaning out their garage. They shared all kinds of local lore with me and gave me some tips about what is going on east and north of their place. We need more good folks like them. Their daughter retired as a lieutenant commander from the U.S. Navy, and she has visited every continent with Operation Smile. She’s a surgical nurse. Her husband was a U.S. Marine Corps pilot.

Well, folks, just 2 more day of this walk. I’m sure my knee will feel better after I stop walking so far each day, but I don’t know about my heart.

Day 27, September 27—Destination St. Joseph

Of course, though I did plenty of walking in both Champaign and Urbana, I hadn’t really left Urbana, heading out east, so I started this morning’s walk at 7:50 at what Urbanites call “Five Points.” No one has been able to tell me why it’s called that. It’s at the intersection of Cunningham and Urbana Avenues.

My wife Mary, a life-long resident of this area, believes that at one time another road or street ran into that same intersection, but I haven’t yet found the historical map to bear that our.

I hadn’t walked too far when I saw a photographer taking my picture up ahead. It was Darryl, of the News-Gazette. I would learn later that the chief photographer was in Indiana at a horse show. We talked for a few minutes, and then I walked on. Along the beautiful park on the north side of the road, the walking was pretty tough, in mowed but very wet grass. There were no more sidewalks (nor would there be), and there wasn’t enough shoulder for me to consider it a safe place to walk.

Near the place where Route 150 turns off University Avenue to go south, I turned around and rode the bike back to the pickup. I used to know lots of people in the National Guard who were assigned to the Urbana Armory, so I drove across the street and into the armory parking lot. The building was covered with numerous cracks, and at least 50 workers were chipping away at them with jack hammers. They were the only ones there. Clearly that armory is not currently in use by the Illinois Army National Guard. Hmmm. OK. On down the road.

I’m not sure exactly how it happened, but I’ll blame it on old age: when I got back up to the Route 150 turnoff, I continued on, only to realize that I was committed to taking I-74 east, which was of course not my intention. I had been looking around for a good place to park, but most of the good parking places were equipped with no parking signs.

OK. So I’m on I-74 headed east, and the next interchange is at St. Joseph. I took the St. Joseph exit and headed back, toward Champaign on Route 150. Hey, didn’t I just drive down this road last night, checking it out as I went? Furthermore Darryl had intimated that someone from the News-Gazette would come looking for me in the near future. How was I to explain where I was and why I was there?

Mayview

I parked on the south side of Route 150 and bicycled back to about where I had left off (I of course didn’t want to risk riding my bike on the Interstate). I then restarted my walk to St. Joseph. Gee willikers, this walking business can be confusing some days. I should have picked a younger day.

There’s an Arends Brothers John Deere dealership north of Route 150. I had been there once to buy my brother-in-law Steve (http://www.steveandruth.com/) a John Deere cap. His son Ryan had borrowed his, and someone had swiped it from a hat rack. The dealership didn’t have one exactly like his original cap, but at least he had a John Deere cap again. Now that I’ve mentioned Steve, I should tell you that he and his wife Ruth are accomplished concert musicians. You really ought to click the link in this paragraph and sample their wonderful music.

I walked into the dealership and gave a couple of employees my flyer, explaining why I was walking across Illinois. They thanked me. The dealership has a fairly large wind generator, much bigger than the 400W one you can buy at Menard’s. I would have enjoyed discussing it with someone, but time was wasting.

Later, when I was walking along the road back to Route 150, a man pulled up next to me in a pickup and asked where I was headed. I told him my story, and he was amazed. I gave him a flyer and continued back to the highway, where I turned east and walked back to Mayview.

Just before I reached Mayview, a car with an Eagle Scout license plate frame stopped. The occupants had heard of my walk, and they wanted to thank me for it. I thanked the gentleman, a veteran, for his service for our country, handed him a flyer, and waved as he drove off.

In Mayview is saw an open business and walked my bike up to the open door. It was Dale’s gun shop, and his big dog came out barking, hackles raised, annoyed as most dogs are by the bike and the snapping flag. Dale welcomed me and invited me to park my pickup in his lot, which I did. I went inside and thanked an employee who was a veteran for his service and then continued down the road.

Next door is a body shop, very much alive, and seemingly doing a healthy business. Not long afterward I saw an old church building, now a residence. I reflected that the gun shop had a booming business, but that the church had gone out of business years before. I was reminded of a family in Rock Island, Illinois, who once ran a gun shop and a Bible bookstore out of the same building. Because the bookstore business was slower and slower, they kept diminishing the amount of space allocated to it, but because the gun shop business was prosperous and expanding, it kept taking up the space formerly occupied by the Bible bookstore.

One day I drove past on my way to a National Guard drill, and I saw that the Bible bookstore was closed, and the gun shop had the entire building. Maybe they offer a prayer with each gun sale.

A little farther along I was a man sitting out on his front step, talking on a cell phone. He looked up with mild interest as I walked by, and I decided to explain to him what I was doing. I heard him say, “Hey, can I call you back later?”

Jim Kates, alias Campfire Jim, later confessed that he had thought I was a Jehovah’s Witness, walking up to him with a flyer in my hand. He took the flyer, glanced through it, and then asked, “Do you have a minute? I want to show you a song.

“I did, and he did.” The song he played for me, I will call “I Want to Shake a Soldier’s Hand.” It’s moving, and it has the same uplifting purpose as my walk across Illinois. In fact I’d go so far as to say that it’s a great song. I was really moved by it. Before I left, Jim gave me a DVD of him playing and singing the song at a local American Legion.

I mentioned Campfire Jim. A local TV station sometimes plays his comedian show briefly, and though I hadn’t seen it, I’ll be looking for it now. It also turns out I know his mom and dad in this amazingly small world. Jim’s mother-in-law started an organization called “Toys for Troops” (http://www.toysfortroops.blogspot.com/), and that group has its own amazing story.

I left Jim, glad that I had met him and heard his song, and glad to know another fine American. Well, maybe the detour via the Internet was another of God’s appointments to bring me to Jim’s doorstep right when he was sitting on it. I believe it was.

Just down the road from Mayview is Fulls Siding, where the Fulls Siding Elevator is still active, despite the absence of a rail line. There used to be 2 parallel rail lines running past there, one an electric interurban line, and the other the Danville, Peoria & Eastern. Both sets of rails have been pulled up now, but there’s an amazing history there, which I hope to get to before I fall asleep writing this blog.

A litter farther on to the east is a large DeKalb seed corn processing plant. What I found unique was that the corn is brought in stover and all, and the kernels are separated out in the plant under highly controlled conditions. A few years ago when I combined seed corn for Cargill, the seed companies were complaining that too much corn was being lost in the field and along the roads on the way to the plants. At that time companies began to use sweet corn pickers for picking seed corn, because those pickers keep the husks on. The husks were removed in the plant, and the corn was gently shelled there. I had seen some loads of what looked like corn stalks on the road on this trip, but now I know the rest of the story.

Just west of St. Joseph is the St. Joseph Wetland, a wetland restoration project. Its goal is to reestablish the traditional wetlands that used to be found along the Salt Fork. They have a good start.

St. Joseph

St. Joseph residents display lots of American Flags. I stopped at a house where a Marine Corp flag flew under an American Flag. I gave the Marine veteran, Mr. Long, one of my flyers and thanked him for my service. Mr. Long had served with the Marines during the Vietnam War, and he is a Vietnam veteran.

The library didn’t open until 3:00 p.m., and it was only about noon when I reached St. Joseph, so I drove south in search of adventure. I saw a man out walking. He walks around an entire section each day for exercise. His name is Dave, and he has a lovely home, nestled among mature oaks. I’m not sure just how the subject of the interurban rail line came up, but he invited me onto his lovely and capacious porch, where we perused three books on the subject, all with beautiful photographs.

I learned the answer to more of my questions about the interurban line in the hour I spent with my host than in all of my research up to that time. For instance I had heard various accounts of the voltage used on the route. Dave told me that it was 600 Volts. The books filled in lots of the history of electric interurban trains in Illinois.

The earliest ones started in about 1895, with lines going from Venice, Madison, Granite City, and other towns across the river from St. Louis. The Illinois Traction Company, succeeded by the Illinois Terminal Company, ran a growing network of electric (and eventually steam and diesel) trains on lines that ran to Danville, St. Louis, Peoria, Springfield, Decatur, Mackinaw, and eventually to the Chicago area. They featured parlor cars, sleeping cars, and freight cars, and on may routes, before there were reliable paved roads, it was a common site to see full milk cans sitting on a platform waiting for the train, or empty milk cans dropped off by the train. The last day of operation for the Bloomington line was February 21, 1953.

Dave recommended a History of Illinois written by Daniel McCollum, which can be purchased at Barnes and Nobles, right in Champaign. It’s now on my booklist. He also told me that, if I went to the Homer Lake Road and turned right, I’d see a historic marker about Kelly’s Tavern. It was so pleasant I almost hated to leave, but I was really curious about Kelly and his tavern.

There was the marker, right where Dave said it would be, surrounded by New England asters, milkweed, and goldenrod, the latter 2 probably not cultivated. That marker opened a whole new can of worms, because it turns out St. Joseph wasn’t always where it is today. Who knew?

St. Joseph

St. Joseph wasn’t founded until 1881, though for some reason I can’t determine, it celebrated its centennial in 1972. It’s in Champaign County. The population has grown from 2,912 (2000 census), and is estimated to be over 4000 as of 2010. We’ll see what the 2010 census has to say.

Some friends, including Chris (an Army veteran) and his lovely wife Mariana live there, but it’s most important to me because my son, daughter-in-law, and grandkids live there. (Well, technically they live at a St. Joseph address, but good luck finding their house.) My son Joe was born at St. Joseph’s hospital, and now he lives in St. Joseph, colloquially (and locally) called “St. Joe.” The village is primarily a bedroom community for Champaign-Urbana, which helps explain its growth in population, despite a general lack of industry, and by that I don’t mean the residents aren’t industrious.

Though the main part of St. Joseph lies south of I-74, there is a subdivision north of town along the Salt Fork, which at times strays out of its banks to cause mayhem and dismay. The first time I visited someone in that area, I noticed that many residents along the stream had boats, and I thought, “How nice. So many sportsmen.” Then a resident told me about the periodic flooding and I realized those boats might be commuter insurance rather than fishing or recreational craft.

Like most small towns in Central Illinois, St. Joseph has a Mexican restaurant, a Boy Scout troop, and even a Cub Scout Pack. There are plenty of churches (one near the Interstate with a unique design), a few bars, and lots of really nice, newer homes. There’s even an antique mall (not a really old mall, but a place to buy antiques).Some years ago a tornado nearly devastated the town, but it has been rebuilt, and there are only the hair-raising stories of death, destruction, and near misses left as reminders.

There are still new houses being built in St. Joseph, recession or not, and some of them are quite classy. The St. Joseph-Ogden High School is located there, and the streets are in good repair.

But it turns out that the site of Kelly’s tavern was the original site of St. Joseph. As long as there were still buildings at the old location, the older site was called “Old St. Joseph.” There’s a bridge over the Salt Fork today, but in the 1830s a man named Cyrus Strong built a house near what would come to be known as Strong’s Ford, and the house he built eventually became known as the Strong’s Ford Inn.

The ford and inn were both on the Bloomington Road, later called the “State Road,” which connected Bloomington, Urbana, and Danville. And, wouldn’t you know it, here comes Honest Abe again. Yes, he frequented this inn, where he sat in an oversized rocking chair, often covered with a buffalo robe, rocking and telling yarns by the fire in colder weather, and sitting out on the long porch that ran along one side of the inn, looking over the Salt Fork, when weather was more pleasant.

A man named William Starbuck related that he and his father had often sat in the inn listening to Lincoln’s stories. Judge Davis would stretch out on the floor and enjoy the stories along with everyone else.

That rocking chair is sometimes on display at the Children’s’ Museum in Indianapolis. Lincoln would have travelled the Bloomington Road from 1840 until 1859, following the sessions of the Eighth Judicial Circuit, which held court in county seats across the midsection of Illinois. Lincoln would have been on his way to or from Danville when he stayed in that inn.

The first road officially surveyed in the area was the Ft. Clark Road, which went from Danville to Ft. Clark, at the site of present-day Peoria. This road had already been in use for some time before the Illinois Legislature made it officially a road.

Kelly’s Tavern took its name from Joseph Thornton Kelly, who came from Rockingham County, Virginia. His father had been a Revolutionary War hero. Kelly rented Strong’s inn in 1848 and bought it a year later. The tavern served as bar, hotel, grocery store, and meeting place, and a number of people built houses near it.

A man from the East stayed a while at Kelly’s place, and the two became such good friends that Kelly told the man he wouldn’t accept payment for his bill. It was on the house. As the man went on his way, he said he was going to do something for Kelly. It turned out he was well connected in Washington, and he had the local post office named “St. Joseph” in honor of his generous friend Kelly.

Kelly was appointed postmaster in 1851, and the settlement gradually came to be known as St. Joseph, Illinois. The local township also took that name, and once the Illinois, Bloomington & Western Railroad came through Champaign County near present-day Route 150, the town of St. Joseph was relocated to its present location, which had been a Native American burial site. St. Joseph Township contributed $25,000 to the building of that rail line, which had a raised bed on rock ballast.

The local lore and history of St. Joseph are well documented, and the St. Joseph Library had a book that was published for the centennial that includes lots of interesting information about early settlers. I’ll include just one item that caught my attention. Uncle Billy was a preacher of the gospel. To fund his ministry, he went to Wabash, where he bought good-quality whisky by the barrel at 20 cents per gallon. He then sold the whiskey at 50 cents per gallon. Far from being offended, apparently some people thought it their religious duty to buy Uncle Billy’s whisky to keep his work going.

OK. I’ll share one more tidbit. In about 1856, Paul Blaker opened a small store at Old St. Joseph. The store was known as the “Crooked House,” not only because Blaker sold adulterated whiskey there, but also because the building that housed his store was for some reason twisted and misshapen. Two large signs adorned the building. The first said “STOR,” and the second advertised “KORN” to the travellers headed west along the Bloomington Road.

Though I had received a very gracious invitation to stay with a local family, I demurred and returned home to my wife, my supper, a shower, and my own bed. Long may they thrive.

Day 25, September 25, 2010, Still in Champaign and Urbana

I got up at about 5:00 a.m. to get ready to continue my walk through Champaign. I was excited because several friends said they were planning to walk a ways with me. I checked my e-mail and found that I had several unanswered messages. One was from my elder sister Delight, who always has good ideas. She’s married to Dave, a Vietnam era veteran.

Here’s what she wrote: “Thanks for your e-mail including the info about your walk. Otherwise we wouldn't have known about it. We have a suggestion that might make things a bit easier on you. Instead of pushing your bike while you walk, you could just push your pickup truck. Then you wouldn't have to go back to retrieve it!”

Given today’s gas prices, that’s probably a good idea. I could change my slogan to something like “push for better benefits for veterans.” I would inspire more pity (if that’s possible), raise more money, and certainly raise more awareness. I’d get more attention, but I’d probably need medical attention.

Channel 3 news (WCIA) carried my story, both on the morning and evening news, but I still haven’t gotten the attention of our local newspaper, the News Gazette. I’ve made the front page of nearly a dozen newspapers across the state. I’ve even seen my story carried in newspapers in my home area, Northwestern Illinois, as far north as Lena, in JoDaviess County. Ah, well, “A prophet is not without honor, save in his own country and among those of his own household.”

Bryce, the technician from WGEM Radio’s Morning Show, in Quincy, Illinois, calls to get me on the morning talk show at least once a week. He has asked me to be on both Monday morning (about 7:20, in case you’re up and in Quincy) and Thursday morning (the last day of the walk). He was also kind enough to e-mail some news outlets in the Danville area, telling them I’d be coming through there, and asking them to keep an eye out for me. Now that is real support, and I appreciate it.

I got to downtown Champaign at about 7:30 and started looking for a free parking place. I didn’t want the town where I live to be the only one that charged me to park my pickup in 250 miles. There just aren’t many free parking places in downtown Champaign. When I inspected a meter, there was no notice that Saturdays were free. When I considered paying, I saw the note that said “Maximum parking, 2 hours.” I wasn’t sure that would be sufficient. I ended up parking on a residential street (E. Church St.), just east of the Champaign Police Department, in one of the few free parking areas anywhere near my designated start point for the day.

I had announced to my friends (and to only a few enemies) that I would start walking east on University Avenue on the north side (on the sidewalk, of course), at 8:00 a.m. With few exceptions, I’ve been walking by that time almost every morning of the trip. At 8:00 no one was there, though some people had stopped to ask what I was doing, and a motorist went around the block, parked his car, and came up to thank me for what I was doing and to give me a donation. I tried to turn it down, but he insisted.

A gentleman than passed me on the sidewalk with the greeting, “God bless you, Sir.” Then he did a double-take and said, “Hey, I saw you on TV last night.” That was footage Marissa Torres’s videographer had taken on Thursday near the Panera’s at Kirby and Prospect.

After no one showed up, I headed east on University Avenue. I got some friendly waves, but most people studiously ignored me. After I had walked nearly to Cunningham Avenue, I went back a ways and then went down Race Street (south) so I could walk through the old downtown part of Urbana on Main Street. Though I saw a few people out, that part of town was peopled mainly by folks getting ready for the Folk Festival that starts today.

I went over to Lincoln Square. At that point I started getting calls from friends who were driving around town looking for me so they could walk with me. I guess they all went back home. Hey, I walked as slowly as an old man can. Sorry. This would have been my first day with company on the road.

I rode back to get my pickup. In every town before Champaign, I walked right through town, getting lots of honks and waves and thumbs up signs. In Champaign, the only honks I heard were from motorists urging their sleepier counterparts (usually someone just ahead at a light that had turned green) to carpe diem (seize the day) and drive on through while the light was green. (There seemed to be an awfully lot of that delayed start-up going on.

I got the pickup and drove back to the Farmers Market. I had always wanted to hand some good pro-veteran literature to the folks who run the “if we just lay down all our weapons everyone else will too” folks at the peace booth. Hey, I’m pretty peaceful too, unless I get riled up. I did walk through the Farmers Market for about an hour, and I did hand out about 50 flyers and thank half a dozen veterans. I also met the commander of the local American Legion Post, who is also the Champaign County American Legion adjutant. I gave him a flyer and thanked him for his service to our country.

My son, wife, and grandkids joined me, and my son Joe introduced me to veteran Harold Fleming, who served in Germany in the Special Forces just a couple of years before I did. We soon realized that we couldn’t tell each other what we’d done in the war, or we’d have to kill each other to keep the secrets.

Harold does woodworking and woodcarving near Oakwood. My son had just ordered a beautiful bench from him, and he just happened to have it along at the market, so I got to see it. His little company is called Kickapoo-woodworks. It was good so meet a skilled craftsman, who can take pride in his work.

I got to thank Herold for his service to our great nation, and he invited me to stop by and see him and his woodwork shop some time. I hope to do that, maybe on this walk.

I had offered to take Mary out to breakfast at the Courier, and it was getting on toward 11:00, so off we went to wait for a table, and eventually our respective omelets. It was really nice to sit down to a meal together and enjoy each other’s’ company. The only bad thing about weekends off on the walk is that I really miss Mary the first few days back on the road. Of course there won’t be much more “back on the road,” now because I have (or so I believe) less than (fewer than, for you grammar purists) 50 miles to go to the Indiana state line.

So this afternoon we (Mary and I) get to watch the grandkids, and then it’s off to put up a sign at the church, and such other duties as my dear wife chooses to assign me.

In defense of the News-Gazette, my photojournalist tried all day today to call a wrong number. She has since e-mailed me, and I’ve e-mailed her back, so we have now established a communication link. I’ll call her later today to tell her my precise start point for Monday’s walk, and maybe I’ll make the local paper after all.

Day 23, September 23—Champaign

Walking around Champaign

Champaign and Urbana are cheek by jowl, so to speak. If you’re driving down a street in one, you might stray into the other without noticing. Of course if you move from one to the other, you might notice that property taxes tend to be higher in Urbana, though zoning permits residents to keep chickens there, unlike in Champaign.

The area has been dubbed the Silicone Prairie, and called one of the 10 most important cyber cities after Silicone Valley. It is also home to the land-grant university known as UIUC, or the University of Illinois, Urbana-Champaign. (Everyone else calls it “Champaign-Urbana,” or “Champbana,” but the University of Illinois puts Urbana first.) There are two other universities with similar names—the University of Illinois, Chicago, and the University of Illinois, Springfield.

So far as I can determine, the first U of I presence in Chicago was an attendance center at Navy Pier. Later there was the Chicago Circle Campus, and finally the University of Illinois, Chicago. I remember when an acquaintance tried to talk me into enrolling at Sangamon State University to do a master’s in history. I was already planning to study at Western Illinois University in Macomb. His rationale was that the program in Springfield was ridiculously easy. I was not convinced that that was a good reason to study there, so I completed my first MA at Macomb.

Years later, Sangamon State University was in lots of trouble. I won’t go into details, but the University of Illinois took it over, revamped the courses, and saved the school, for all practical purposes. Not it is a part of the U of I family.

At the University of Illinois is the Beckman Institute, a world-renowned center for the study of such things as the human mind. I’ve participated in a couple of studies there, but always as a lab rat rather than as a researcher. Apparently they did find some brain activity in my most recent study, because they said that if they found anything life threatening, they would refer me to an appropriate medical person. 

Rob with Friend and Researcher Nils Schneider

Search for Evidence of Brain Activity at Beckman

The fiberoptic cables alone cost thousands.

View from Back of Head
The Leopard Skin Is Not Real. No Split Ends, Either

Urbana was settled before Champaign was. In fact Champaign was first named “West Urbana,” and it was settled when the Illinois Central Railroad extended its tracks 2 miles west of downtown Urbana. In 1860, Champaign was chartered as a city and chose the name Champaign (for both city and county) from Champaign, in Champaign County in Ohio.

Urbana is named after Urbana, Ohio. (Right at that time there apparently was a fire sale on Ohio town names.) Urbana is the county seat of Champaign County. The first house was built there in about 1822, followed by 2 hotels and a saw mill, which was eventually washed away by Salt Fork. (Note that there are two separate streams in Illinois that are named “Salt Creek,” and this is neither of them, but yet a different stream.) Both the first hotel and the first mill were built by Colonel Charles Busey, who arrived in 1831 from Kentucky by way of Indiana.

The first flour mill was built in 1838 by a man named Heptenstall. It was also built on the creek, and it was also washed away. Both flood-destroyed mills were replaced by a steam-powered saw and flour mill.

Champaign County was organized in 1833. Bloomington wanted the county seat near them, and they bought some land, platted a town, and named the place Byron. Colonel Busey had been in the area of present-day Champaign-Urbana since 1831, and he offered the county 40 acres to establish a town to serve as county seat. The county commissioners chose Busey’s land as the site for the county seat. They chose the name Urbana for the new town.

Unlike Colonel Busey, I first settled in Champaign in 1998, right after I married Mary. Also unlike him, I never attained the rank of an officer, but earned only the rank of first sergeant before leaving the military. My research has turned up another major difference between us: my family did not start a bank. Also, when Colonel Busey wanted to cross Illinois, I can find no evidence that he walked, pushing a bicycle with a flag mounted on it.

On Thursday morning, bright and early (okay, just bright, at 8:00), I started walking east on Springfield Avenue. On some Illinois roads, when one comes to the end of a numbered route, there is a sign that says, “end of route so and so.” If there is such a sign coming into Champaign on Route 10, I somehow missed it. Also walking on Thursday was more about showing the flag than about covering a lot of distance.

I had an interview with WCIA’s own Marissa Torres and a very professional videographer, whose name has slipped out of my 65-year-old brain (sorry, sir). I walked and biked in opposite direction for several hours, and I got to shake hands with and thank a number of veterans, most of whom wondered why I was pushing a bike sporting an American Flag.

As is usual for a television interview, I pronounced and spelled my name. Notwithstanding, the newsperson who announced the video clip of my walk at 7:10 a.m. or so mispronounced Siedenburg. At no additional cost, I’m going to provide a brief tutorial about the pronunciation of German words and names. If the letters ei occur, pronounce the second letter long (ī). If the letter pair ie occurs, pronounce the second letter long (ē).

It’s interesting that in the Quincy area, there are enough German family names that no one mispronounced my name. Right here in my own town, my last name has been mispronounced on several media outlets. Of course if that is the worst thing that happens to me on this trip, I’ll certainly survive, and I know that mispronunciations are not conducted with malice aforethought.

The other exciting event of Thursday (exciting to me, that is; this is my blog, remember) was a job interview. So my retirement may be coming to an end. We shall see. The job, should it materialize, promises new challenges, primarily the teaching of English to Chinese executives. Please stay tuned.

If you live in the Champaign area, and if you’d like to walk a ways with me, your big chance will come on Saturday morning, when I plan to walk east on University Avenue, leaving Neil Street at 8:00. Or you can stay at home to find out whether that makes the news.