Day 18, September 18—Destination Clinton

Clinton
Clinton is the county seat of DeWitt County. Nearby is the Clinton Nuclear Power Plant, at one time considered a failed plant, but now busily generating power for the surrounding area, thanks in no small part to the plan developed by engineer George Hughes for bringing the plant online. The city of Clinton is named after DeWitt Clinton, who had been governor of the state of New York. Of course DeWitt County is named after the same person.

Clinton is also home to the C. H. Moore Homestead, the DeWitt County Museum, and numerous antique shops. There are several car dealerships, including Anderson Ford has the exclusive right in the area to sell special souped-up Ford Mustangs. The Douglas car dealership nearby is unique in that the cars are not floor-planned, but rather purchased outright. That could mean a better price for the customer, more profit for the dealer, or both.

The first settlers came to the area in 1824, and one family initially lived in an abandoned Indian teepee. Their early accounts off the area say the big bluestem grass was “as tall as an elephant’s ear.” As is the case today, trees lined the stream beds.

Most early settlers came from Kentucky and Tennessee, via Indianapolis, Danville, and Springfield. From Springfield they went up the Sangamon River and its tributaries to various parts of what is now Central Illinois. Their wooden plows barely scratched the surface of the deep prairie sod, and it would not be until McCormick and others invented the steel plow (and John Deere successfully marketed his version of it from 1837 on) that the prairie soil could be broken on a large scale.

Early European settlers did not believe that land that wouldn’t grow trees could be very fertile, but in time the prairie soils would prove to be some of the richest in the world. They planted maize, and often called it Indian corn, because wheat and other small grains were (and still are) routinely called “corn” in Britain. Corn was a staple in early days. It was ground for cornbread, cornmeal mush, and hasty pudding.

Settlers made lye by dripping rain water through hardwood ash, with straw or grass underneath. Dried, this extremely caustic base chemical was used to soften hard water for doing laundry and to soak the hard exterior off corn so it could be cooked as hominy. Dried hominy was in turn ground to make hominy grits, of southern breakfast fame.

In 1830, the Slatten family arrived and built a cabin about a mile west of modern-day Clinton, at a place later known as Pascal’s Mill. James Allen and Jesse Fell passed through the area in 1934 in large covered wagons known in those days as prairie schooners. They were travelling from Decatur to their home in Bloomington, when they noticed a large Indian mound. They decided that was a good place for a settlement, and they came back a year later and filed a claim.

In 1835, a small log cabin was built, the first in what would be Clinton. The hotel was of logs, and it was called the Hotel de Log. It was later the site of the first post office in Clinton. The post office was run by Miles Gray, a local tailor. It was on the west side of the present square, and it would serve as the first hotel there.

An earlier blog covers a bit of the government’s purchase of Kickapoo land, which made the land the property of the federal government. In 1836, William Anderson bought some of that land and built a hotel at the corner of North Center and West Clay Streets, about two blocks north of the first hotel. Sometime around 1900, the hotel was moved to 121 West Clay Street. Of course Abe Lincoln stayed there, as at so many area hotels. abin at the west side of what would be the present square. It was first used as a store, and it sat across the street from and north of the Magill Hotel.

Following a county-wide plebiscite, Clinton was named the county seat of DeWitt County. A series of courthouses were built and used by the Eighth Judicial Circuit Court, where such worthies as Abe Lincoln and Stephen A. Douglas represented clients. By 1841 there were about 12 families in Clinton. It was the 1850s arrival of the Illinois Central Railroad (the ICR) that really benefitted the town, perhaps more than any other event.

Within 20 years, the ICR had built a roundhouse and car shops in Clinton, and that heralded about 80 years of Clinton as a railroad town, the very hub of ICR operations.

I did not arrive in Clinton by train, but on foot, pushing a mountain bike, with a flag mounted on the back. As I climbed the hill up toward Anderson Ford, I was dozens of small American flags along both sides of the highway. I had walked for a little over an hour that morning, after getting a later start than usual. Out in front of the VFW, on the right-hand side of the highway, there was a crowd of people, cheering and welcoming me to Clinton.

Some of the Well-Wishers at the Clinton VFW

The VFW Auxiliary had prepared a meal, and when my wife Mary arrived from Champaign, they fed us both. I got to shake hands with and thank dozens of veterans for their service to our country. I met 2 boys, Chance and Gage, who are home-schooled. They are very bright, and they will one day turn out to be good citizens of our great Republic.

Chance, Gage, Rob, Mom Deanna

I also met their 3 cousins, who are all Boy Scouts. Wesley and his younger brothers Austyn and Destyn actually went back home and returned so I could see them in their Boy Scout uniforms. Wesley and Austyn also showed me their honor Medals. According to the official definition of that award, the Honor Medal is

A lifesaving award presented to a registered youth member or adult leader who has demonstrated unusual heroism in saving or attempting to save a life at considerable risk to self.

Boy Scout Honor Medal

As I understand it, the boys jumped into the water to save the life of a six-foot-eight epileptic, who experienced a seizure while swimming. Once Wesley had the man’s head safely out of the water and had him stabilized, he sent Austin on a fast run to a phone to call for help. The boys were later written up in Boys Life for their heroism. They are very humble about the entire episode, basically saying that anyone would have done what they did.

Wesley, Austyn, Destyn, and Old Man

Mark Lane was a Force Recon Marine during the Viet Nam War. He was the first to shake my hand when I got to the VFW. He has had a series of adventures that might indicate a lifetime in the Marines, but he spent only 5 action-packed years, almost all of it in combat. He offered to reenlist or extend to stay in Viet Nam, but they turned him down. They wanted him to go back to the States and reenlist there.

Instead he went home and got out. I’m sure that was a serious loss to the U.S. Marines and for the Force Recon teams.

Mark Lane, Rob, and Lola

VFW Auxiliary President Lola Camp headed up the preparation of the meal. There are about 60 members in that auxiliary, and they are as dedicated as their veteran counterparts. They work really hard, and right now their biggest project is to raise money to build a meeting room onto their building. Lola is a go-getter such as one rarely meets, and they are lucky to have her on their team.

Lola sat with Mary and me as we ate lunch, and she told us lots about the VFW post. Earlier, during the meeting of the auxiliary, she had invited me to speak to their members. They have 60 members, and that enables them do lots of service activities. For instance one day they heard a soldier was coming home to Clinton, but it was already short notice, and he was to arrive that very day at 7:00 p.m.

Undaunted, Lola organized everything, contacted Clinton’s finest, and put together a welcome home event that must have really blessed that soldier. I know they blessed me with their heartfelt welcome to Clinton and their whole-hearted support for my walk across the state.

Lola even went back outside town to bring in my pickup, and later Deanna followed Mary when she staged her car out at the east edge of town, then brought her back to get my pickup, while I walked through the rest of Clinton. The Clinton Police had planned to give me an escort through town, but just as I was leaving, there was a serious car accident, and the police had their hands full with that. I did hop on the bike and ride through a very narrow underpass, and again for about a quarter mile or so around a blind curve.

I loaded the bike back on the front of the pickup, and then I followed Mary back to Champaign to enjoy my hard-earned weekend off.

Day 17, September 17—Forward Assist

Mary and I know lots of neat married couples through an organization called United Marriage Encounter. We met Jesse and Jeannie Bragg at a marriage encounter weekend nearly 6 months ago, saw them again at an encounter reunion, and then, in response to their kind invitation, drove over to their rural home north of Beason for a Fourth of July shindig: lots of good people and some really fine food.

The Braggs knew of my foolhardy plan to walk across Illinois, and they told me I was welcome to spend the night at their place. Then, when I was in Lincoln, Jeannie also asked her sister whether I could take a shower at her place while I was in Clinton (she said yes), and tonight was my second night presuming on the hospitality of the Braggs: a shower, a delicious supper, great fellowship, and a real bed to sleep in. It just doesn’t get any better than that.

Jesse and his son Jacob run Bragg Electric. Both are skilled electricians, who specialize in rural electrical applications. This morning Jesse was up and brewing coffee pretty early, and I sure didn’t turn down a cup of his special brew. Jacob arrived to start his work day, and he and his dad prepared to go to their place of work for the day.

I had accepted a ride back to my pickup only once on the trip, and for some obtuse reason, I had turned down several such offers. But when Jeannie offered to follow me to park my pickup in the heart of downtown Beason (well, by the post office) and drive me back to my start point, just west of a one-lane bridge, I took her up on the kind offer.

By my dead reckoning, I walked at the rate of 3.5 miles per hour from there into Beason (6 miles in an hour and 40 minutes: you can check my math if you like).

Beason

Beason was founded by Silas Beason in 1872. It was on the Havana, Lincoln, and Eastern Railroad, now part of the Illinois Central. Berryman H. Pendleton opened the first store in town and would later become the first postmaster.

Last year tragedy struck this little prairie town, and most members of an entire family were brutally murdered. I had not known of that atrocity when I drove through on my route survey some weeks ago, and I remember thinking that this was small town America at its best. The town park has horseshoe pits. The Methodist church building is beautiful.

Beason Methodist Church, Built in 1904

During my stop on my route survey, two small boys were coming down the street, right in front of the Methodist Church building, one pulling the other in a little wagon. They were having a great time, and in general just being boys.

Just down the street from the Methodist Church there is a lovely home with a beautiful fallen warrior cutout (silhouette) in the front yard. Genia runs the D & E Graphics shop from her garage. She made the cutout, and she’s making an even nicer one. She also makes “Support Our Troops” signs, and she has some lovely military decorations on her window. She pointed out the signs she’d made for her neighbor, who has 2 nephews serving overseas in the military. The nephews’ names and places of deployment are on two of the signs.

Fallen Warrior Cutout

Service Branch Window Decals

You might say that Genia’s family is deeply involved with the U.S. military. Her grandpa served in the Army in World War I. Her dad served in the Navy in World War II. Her husband is a Viet Nam era Navy vet. Her son is a Marine and a Desert Storm veteran. Her niece is a Navy Lieutenant Commander.

Back at my pickup after my first 6 miles, while I was enjoying my first chew of beef jerky and a big swig of water in front of the post office, Jeannie Brag drove up to check on me. She said had to run home with the ice cream she had just purchased in Lincoln, and she offered to let me ride along to use the restroom. In the Army I learned that, when you see a restroom, you use it. When you see water, you drink it. When there’s a shower, you take it. When there’s a bed, you sleep in it. When there’s hot food, you eat it. So of course I took her up on her offer. Then she followed me as I drove my pickup yet another 6 miles east, and hauled my bike, flag, and me back to Beason to start walking east again. Thank you, Jeannie!

As I was walking toward Hallsville and my pickup, an older man in a small pickup stopped on the other side of the highway. “Trouble?”

I walked over and told him I was walking across Illinois to support our troops. He was Russell Coil, veteran who was wounded while serving in World War II. Here’s how he put it: “I took one in my side.” He says he’s bent over and can’t walk or stand for long periods of time, But he says he gets around well enough to do what he needs to do. He also mentioned that he had just sent off a check to the disabled veterans, something he does every year without fail.

I thanked Mr. Coil for his service to our country, and we parted with a handshake and a wave. Another member of that greatest generation Tom Brokaw wrote about.

Hallsville

Hallsville is about 6 miles east of Beason on the south side of Route 10. There used to be a nursing home on the north side, but it has been completely torn down. I explored the town just a bit. Harvest Street runs north and south, and it intersects with Elevator Street, perhaps symbolic during this abundant fall harvest. Today for the first time on my walk I saw combine heads switched, with some farmers combining beans instead of corn.

Because tomorrow is another day, and I had hoped to meet Mary in Clinton, I pushed on as hard as I could. Jeannie’s forward assist helped me time wise, and I might have walked as much as 14 miles. I now hope to get to Clinton by 10 a.m., on Saturday and go walk around the downtown area, especially around the square. Then I hope to go home for what remains of the weekend.

Clinton Sneak Preview

Clinton, Illinois, is a town with lots of history, an award-winning newspaper (the Journal), an Abe Lincoln connection, a really great public library, and some other pleasant surprises. I drove into Clinton, bike strapped to the front of the pickup, and stopped at McDonalds. As far as I know, all McDonalds restaurants in the United States now have free wireless Internet access, but I have yet to see one that provides conveniently placed outlets for computer users. Thus the battery is the limiting factor for how long one can work on a laptop at McDonalds.

I had forgotten to take off my yellow-green reflective vest, and a sweet lady in her 80s, who was also going into the restaurant, asked me whether I worked on the road. I told her what I was doing, and gave her a flyer from my walk. She told me she had been near Farmer City that morning, visiting her late husband’s grave.

As I finished my crispy chicken sandwich, she passed me on her way out, stopped, and told me more about her family. Her dad came to Illinois from Kentucky, where he’d never had the opportunity to learn to read. He went to work on a farm, and he worked for the same farmer for 35 years.

Her husband, Arnold Johnson, served in the U.S. Navy during much of World War II, and her grandson Jeff is a Persian Gulf War veteran. To make matters more interesting, she’s a near neighbor of the journalist who interviewed me in Mason City, where she also lives.

As she left the restaurant, a man in a nearby booth said to me, “You’re a very patient man, sir,” no doubt referring to the fact that I had listened to this dear lady for about half an hour. I told him about my walk, and that part of the purpose is to meet people and hear their stories. He asked whether I had any spare time and said he’d like to show me the Clinton Legion Hall. I said I had plenty of time and would like to see it. He was Jerry Drake, who served in the U.S. Army during the Cuban missile crisis. Once that crisis wound down, he was stationed in Germany during the balance of his service time.

The Legion hall in Clinton is a real success story. They American Legion’s membership had been declining, and they realized that, if they didn’t do something soon, they wouldn’t have a Legion in Clinton. Some of the members decided to conduct an ambitious membership drive, and they added lots of members to their rolls.

The old Legion hall was in pretty bad shape, and a building became available for them to bid on. They bought the building for a dollar bid from Richland Community College, who no longer needed it. They renovated the building with volunteer labor and lots of donated material. Sweat equity, Jerry called it. Some doors and other fixtures, and some kitchen equipment, came from a local school building that was being demolished. The place is functional and beautiful. They’ve done a great job.

American Legion Post 103, Named for Two Early WWII Casualties

Outside, Jerry asked me again whether I still had time. I said yes. He said he wanted to show me something else, and he drove me out to Weldon Springs, just outside of Clinton. He grew up in a house that used to stand right where the entrance to the park is now. What he took me to see is something I believe every area veteran would really appreciate. It’s called Veterans Point, and it’s a monument to our service members.

It started out with marble bricks with the names of 1300 veterans inscribed, but people keep adding their own names and those of loved ones, so there are certainly more names there now than were envisioned originally. The memorial is located on a lovely lake, and it’s well worth the visit. I will always be very grateful to Jerry for showing me that memorial.

Veterans Point Sign

While we were there at Veteran’s Point, a man and his daughter walked down to the monument. It was Scott Haugh from Freeport with his daughter Elizabeth. Scott is a disabled Army veteran who served in the Gulf War. He’s also the creator of two Web sites, the second of them still under construction, but accessible from the bottom left-hand corner of the home screen of the first site. They are vets4vets.com and vetsthunder.com. I was proud to shake Scott’s hand and thank him for his sacrifice for our nation.

Veterans Point Has a Lovely Location

He’s established these Web sites in his personal time. He’s also a federal Veterans Outreach Program Specialist and Veterans Employment Representative. He was on his way to Springfield to take some training that he thought would help him understand and work better with his fellow disabled vets, and he stopped off to visit his daughter, who lives in Clinton. She in turn took him out and showed him Veterans Point. While they were there, she located the names of several of their veteran relatives.

A Row of Flags Leads along the Path

As we turned to leave the Point, we met another veteran, Ron, who was also visiting the memorial. I got to shake his hand and thank him for his service too.

Jerry drove me back to the McDonalds, where I got him another of my flyers (he had already given away the first one I had given him at the restaurant. I asked for directions to the business district, and Jerry got me on the right track. Once downtown, I saw the beautiful town square, formerly the site of the historic Dewitt county courthouse. Of course Dewitt County is named for Dewitt Clinton, as is Clinton itself.

There are still some hard feelings about the demolition of that old courthouse, but the town square is a lovely place. I parked and asked directions to the Clinton Journal office, got them, and walked the few blocks to the office. When I walked into the office, the receptionist said, “This is for you. You’re to call this phone number,” and handed me a sticky note with a phone number on it. “This number is for a man from the VFW,” she said. That seemed mysterious enough, but how had she known who I was or that I was coming to the office?

She hooked me up with general manager and editor Gordon Wards, who just then walked in, right while I was admiring the large number of awards the Journal had won during 2009. He told me that most of those awards were earned for the paper by Jean, who had worked for the Journal for some time, but who had just accepted a job at the Lincoln Courier. Hmm. Jean Ann Miller of the Courier, who interviewed me had told me they were waiting for a new writer to show up. Clinton’s loss is Lincoln’s gain.

After putting up with my random remarks about my walk, Gordon and I walked to the square, where I posed for a picture with bike and flag in front of a statue of the Great Emancipator. Gordon suggested that I try to visit the public library, and I did. He’s right. It’s a really great library for a town the size of Clinton. Unfortunately I had less than half an hour to tour it because closing time was coming up fast.

I got back in the pickup and called the phone number on the mysterious yellow sticky note. A man named Chad answered, and I identified myself. He asked what my Saturday (the following day) looked like, and I told him I planned to arrive in Clinton on my walk at about 10:00 a.m. He asked what else I had planned, and I told him that Mary planned to drive over and have lunch with me at Ted’s Garage, about which she had heard from her therapist.

Chad didn’t say anything for a minute. Then he said, “Well, you might want to consider changing your plans. I’m with the Clinton VFW, and we’re planning a big dinner for you at noon. The VFW is right along your route, just before Anderson Ford, on the right-hand side of the road.”

I expressed my gratitude and assured him that Mary and I could drive to Clinton another time to eat at Ted’s Garage. I told him I’d be honored to come to a dinner (I’m usually fairly excited when food is concerned.)

I started back to my host family’s place north of Beason, thinking that the day just couldn’t get any better. I was wrong. When I arrived, Jesse was just getting out of his work truck. The landlord was driving a 4-wheel-drive John Deere across the field right behind the house, with an enormous tiling machine attached. A big roll of field tile stood at the far end of the field.

Jesse told me they were having some folks over that night, but he didn’t tell me everyone who was coming to supper. Guests included his sons Jason and Jacob, Jacob’s lovely wife Hannah, and Jeannie’s sister Liz, who had so graciously let a sweaty old guy come to her house for a shower. Jesse fired up the grill and produced some gourmet steaks, and Jeannie fixed a multilayered salad that made me wish I were younger and could still do justice to a meal like that.

After the guests had left, Jesse, Jeannie, and I sat up till midnight, talking and enjoying each other’s company. Well, I enjoyed theirs, at any rate, and they were polite and treated me with wonderful hospitality and great courtesy. I have been blessed by the Christian atmosphere in their home, and I hope I am as gracious to guests in my home as they have been to me in theirs.

Day 16, September 16—I Make It out of Lincoln, but Am Blown Back

A number of years ago I served in the military with a fine young officer, Lon Simpson, who was from the Lincoln, Illinois, area. During this brief visit to Lincoln, I tried to get in touch with him, but without success.

Today I decided to google him online, and I discovered that he has been recalled to active duty, and is serving in the U.S. Army in Baghdad, Iraq, if the information is current.

Lon did an internship in period furniture-making in Colonial Williamsburg, Virginia. I knew some years ago that he was planning to retire from the Army to pursue furniture-making full time. I do know that the period pieces he had already made when I knew him were really professional work and well worth owning. There’s a gap there during which I know nothing about his occupation or whereabouts, though I believe he is likely still a resident of the Lincoln area. I’ll keep trying to contact him, and some day I will be successful.

In an earlier post, I mentioned Postville (no pun intended). It was the second town organized in what would become Logan County, but it was so near Lincoln, that within a few years Lincoln had grown around it. The Postville Courthouse has been restored, and it stands on its own block, out on 5th Street. It was home to periodic sessions of the Eighth Judicial Circuit, and was the oldest courthouse on that circuit.

Restored Postville Courthouse in 2010

Court was held there from the building’s completion in 1840 until the Logan county seat was moved to Mount Pulaski in 1848. Yes, Abe Lincoln did practice law in that building. He followed the Eighth Circuit sessions for 25 years.

Postville Courthouse in Lincoln, Illinois

Across the street is the Lincoln VFW, built on the site of the former Deskins Tavern, owned and operated by the sheriff, the actual site of the first court sessions in Postville. For a time in the early tentieth century, the courthouse served as a family dwelling. Author William Maxwell, in his 1971 book Ancestors wrote,  “Riding along on my bicycle, I used to send a folded copy of the Lincoln Evening Courier sailing in the general direction of the front door of an unpainted two-story frame building that I knew had once been used as a courthouse.  A Negro family lived in it, which seemed only proper since the Great Emancipator had practiced law there.”

Though I had scheduled today to be in Lincoln, it didn’t take long to get out to the site of the photograph that appeared in this morning’s Courrier, showing me leaving town out near Lincoln Christian University.

Eastward Ho

Photo courtesy of Jean Ann Miller, Courrier staff photojournalist.

The weather forecast predicted winds of 20 miles per hour, but I’m pretty sure they gusted to a higher speed during my walk this morning. In fact I had to walk in both directions because the west wind was just too strong for me to ride coming back to the pickup. Jean Ann Miller’s very complimentary article had come out in the morning paper, and a few motorists apparently knew who I was and why I was walking in the wind with a flag on a bicycle. I got lots of appreciative honks and waves.

When I looked online to find out whether the article had been posted to the Internet, it was not yet there, but it stands to reason that it might not be posted while the day is so young. If you’d like, you can look at http://www.lincolncourier.com/news/ tomorrow to find out whether the article is online.

A couple of miles east of Lincoln, I noticed some flags flying at a farmhouse. Among others there was a Stars and Stripes and a small Marine Corps flag. The place seemed to be alive with dogs, and they were very interested in me. Concerned about their safety near the highway, I told them to go home, and, somewhat to my amazement, they obeyed and retreated behind the farmhouse.

It turned out to be a temporary situation because they returned a moment later with reinforcements. I didn’t count all the dogs, but including puppies, there were more than a dozen. I went up the driveway to the house. Reclining in a chair on the back porch was a female manikin, sans head. No one was home, but I made friends with the entire family of dogs, and lectured them sternly about staying off the highway.

I have no idea why, but they thereafter stayed home, and when I returned on the opposite side of the road some time later, I didn’t hear so much as a bark. I’ve now dealt with more dogs in two days than in the entire trip up to now.

I leave Lincoln, knowing that I have only scratched the surface of what is available here spiritually, culturally, historically. I certainly plan to return one day to take up my research into the mysteries of Lincoln, Illinois, and I hope that day is soon.

In terms of progress on the overall walk, I’m somewhere near the halfway mark. Given that I’m mysteriously missing about 13 miles somewhere, I may never know the exact halfway point, but it has to be around here somewhere. I keep looking for a mark on the highway that says something such as “you are now halfway from Quincy to Danville,” but so far I’ve seen nothing of the sort.

If I have to walk in both directions because of a strong wind, the length of the walk could suddenly become much greater than I had bargained for. There’s a big difference between walking 5 or 6 miles, then biking back to my pickup, and walking the same distance in both directions. Of course if I were biking all the way to Danville, I would probably already be there by now, but this is, after all, a walk.

The good news is that I’ve been invited to spend the next 2 nights with friends. I hope showers are part of the deal! Now all I have to do is walk another 120 miles or so to Danville and the Indiana border.

Day 15, September 15, Lincoln

I bicycled west on Rte. 10 to where I had stopped walking the day before, changed from shoes into boots (I’ve already destroyed to pairs of shoes on this walk), and began walking back toward Lincoln. Partly because of the nearby gravel quarry on Lincoln Quarry Road, and partly because it is corn harvest season in Central Illinois, truck traffic was really heavy, so I spent lots of time standing well back from the roadway so traffic from directions could pass simultaneously.

I noticed two beautiful, large dogs running free in the front yard of a house on the south side of the road. They also notice me, shuffling along the verge of the road, pushing a bike with a snapping flag on display. The younger of the two dogs was at the point of running across the highway, but in my rearview mirror (attached to my bicycle helmet) I could see a semi coming up fast behind me.

I yelled at the dog to sit, and both dogs sat. Then I yelled “stay,” and both stayed. Just then the semi flew past, just about a foot or two from the younger dog. He hadn’t been paying any attention to traffic, and he was so startled, he leapt back from the roadway. Though both dogs continued to bark, that scare seemed to have put some sense into the younger dog, and I don’t believe the older one would have crossed the road.

I was just getting over that fright, when a large border collie ran out of a yard on the other side of the road, barking and growling at me. Again I was afraid for the dog’s safety. The owner was up on the roof of his house, yelling at the dog to come away from the road, but the temptation proved too great for the dog, Pepper, who apparently wanted to be in charge of something (maybe passing flag patrol).

I went into the yard to explain to the dog’s owner why I was walking down the highway with a flag on a bike. He had a lovely American Flag on display, and he said he always tries to have a good flag and pole in his yard. His name is Duane Perry, and he raised horses for years. We had a good talk before I headed back down the road. I left him with one of my walk flyers.

I had been concerned about the walk into Lincoln, but, though the shoulders are very rough, they are adequate for walking, and for the last mile or so are blacktopped. Even near the Interstate 55 exchange, there was plenty of room to walk and be well clear of traffic.

I had parked my pickup at Walmart, so when I got that far, I turned in to the Walmart entrance. A lady was just driving out in her SUV. When she saw me, she rolled down her window and called out, “Are you Rob?”

“I am,” I replied.

“Nancy Otto from the New Holland bank told me you’d be walking into Lincoln today. I’m Jeanne Ann Miller, from the Currier, and I’d like to do an interview with you later in the day.”

I gave her my flyer, with my cell phone number on it, and she did call me back about noon.

I had just loaded my bike back onto the front of the pickup, and started reading my Bible in I Chronicles, sitting there in the cab, when I looked up and thought I saw a friend of ours from Beason, Jeanne Bragg. My wife Mary and I know the Braggs through United Marriage Encounter, and they had agreed to let me stay at their place one night on the walk.

I called Jeanne’s cell phone number, and she answered. “Did I just see you in front of the Lincoln Walmart?” I  asked.

“Probably,” she said. “That’s where I am.”

Jeanne called her sister, who lives in Lincoln, who graciously let her lead me over to her (the sister’s) house for a shower. I should say, “a shower!” because only a sweaty walker with no available shower facilities (or a soldier or Marine in the same predicament) can really appreciate a shower. Yes, this was only one of many, many kindnesses extended to me on this trip across my state, but I am very grateful for it.

I was clean, fully clothed, and in my right mind, when I got the promised call from Jeanne Ann Miller of the Currier. She asked where I wanted to meet for the interview. I suggested Pizza Hut, because I had seen a young man waving a sign out front advertising a $5.00 all-you-can-eat lunch buffet. She said that would be fine, but she would like to treat me downtown at Vintage Fair, a little deli known pretty much only to locals.

Jeanne Bragg was kind enough to lead me there, and Jeanne Miller treated me to a ham and Swiss cheese on rye, while she asked me questions about the walk, and while I rambled on in a fairly stream-of-consciousness manner about my walk.

Most media people want to know my motive for the walk, and what led to my deciding to do it. Well, the truth is that I can’t completely reconstruct that string. What I do know is that Mary and I visited my 95-year-old, remarkable mom in Northwestern Illinois the last week in August and stayed in the old family farmhouse at rural Mount Carroll. There were my mom’s World War II ration stamp books, which my mom and I discussed.

My mom pointed out that everyone in this country had to sacrifice during World War II, including those who didn’t actually fight in the war. I began to think that, during our two major conflicts in which we are involved right now, most of us are sacrificing very little. It seems the burden is primarily on our troops, while we pretty much go about our business as usual.

I was looking for a way to show the flag, and to remind folks that we are a nation at war, with our young men and women around the globe in harm’s way in our defense, on our behalf, representing us. I also wanted to show gratitude to our veterans, and this trip has given me the chance to look people in the eye and say thanks.

Lincoln, Illinois, is the county seat of Logan County. It was named for Abraham Lincoln even before he became president, and, according to a Wikipedia article, it is the only city in the United States named for him before his presidency. There’s an anecdote associated with the naming of Lincoln. A delegacy from the town approached Abe Lincoln, asking his approval of the name. “What name have you chosen?” he reportedly asked.

“Lincoln,” was the reply.

“I don’t know as I’d do that.” He rejoined. “I’ve never known of anything by that name that turned out very good.”

Lincoln is home to Lincoln Christian University, Lincoln College, and Heartland Community College. It also boasts the world's largest covered wagon.

Lincoln College McKinstry Library hosts an exhibit of a wooly mammoth’s tusk in a large display case near the checkout counter. A Lincoln College student found it, along with a molar, on college property. There’s an excellent newspaper article from the Currier posted inside the library that gives quite a bit of detail about the find.

Possibly the most surprising thing to scientists is the relative young age of the tusk (not of the animal it belonged to). Scientific dating techniques place the age at about 11,000 years, and that’s much more recent than scientists had previously believed the wooly mammoth to be roaming Illinois.

That also put the wooly mammoth well within the timeline of the Mississippian Native American culture, which means there could possibly have been some hunting by that civilization.

Prehistoric Illinois was also home to the mammoth bison, which looked like a much larger version of the bison we are familiar with today. That animal had also vanished from the Illinois prairies before the white settlers arrived.

Historic U.S. Route 66 ran through Lincoln from the 1926s until 1978. A group of Route 66 enthusiasts travel along the path of the old highway each summer, staying in the homes of local residents, and repainting historical murals and business signs on old buildings. The do this as a hobby, even spending their own money for paint and other supplies. They are fed and housed at no cost to themselves, so that cuts down on their out-of-pocket expenses. Historic Route 66 still brings tourists to town.

United States Weather Service Radar Tower near Lincoln

If you have ever listened to a weather radio in Central Illinois, you’ve no doubt heard a transmission emanating from Lincoln, from the National Weather Service. The facility is just east of Lincoln, not far past the entrance to Lincoln Christian University. I wanted to find out whether I could get a tour of the facility, but was a bit daunted by all the No Trespassing signs that are so typical of government installations. Instead I contented myself with taking these unauthorized photos.

Lincoln Weather Station Equipment

From Wikipedia: “The town was officially named on August 27, 1853 in an unusual ceremony. Abraham Lincoln, having assisted with the platting of the town and working as counsel for the newly laid railroad which led to its founding, was asked to participate in a naming ceremony for the town. During the proceedings, Lincoln chose a ripe watermelon from a nearby wagon, broke it open, and squeezed the juice on the grounds, as an informal rite of baptism. The town of Lincoln was the first city named after Abraham Lincoln while he was a lawyer and before he was President of the United States.^[2][3]

American author Langston Hughes spent some of his early years in Lincoln. Later on, he was to write to his eighth-grade teacher in Lincoln, telling her his writing career began there in the eighth grade, when he was elected class poet.

The City of Lincoln features the stone, three-story, domed Logan County Courthouse (1905), which is considered the second most architecturally spectacular surviving historic courthouse in Illinois' 102 Counties (after Carlinville in Macoupin County).^{[citation needed]} This courthouse building replaced the earlier Logan County Courthouse (built 1853–54) where Lincoln once practiced law; the earlier building had fallen into serious decay and could not be saved. In addition, the Postville Courthouse State Historic Site contains a 1953 replica of the original 1840 Logan County courthouse; Postville, the original county seat, lost its status in 1848 and was itself annexed into Lincoln in the 1860s.

Lincoln was also the site of the Lincoln Developmental Center (LDC); a state institution for the developmentally disabled. Founded in 1877, the institution was one of Logan County's largest employers until closed in 2002 by former Governor George Ryan due to concerns about patient maltreatment. Despite efforts by some Illinois state legislators to reopen LDC, the facility remains shuttered.”

Lincoln College

[Wikipedia Article Continues]

Lincoln College (chartered Lincoln University), a private four-year liberal arts college, was founded in early 1865 and granted 2-year degrees until 1929. News of the establishment and name of the school was communicated to President Lincoln shortly before his death making Lincoln the only college to be named after Lincoln while he was living. The College has an excellent collection of Abraham Lincoln–related documents and artifacts, housed in a museum which is open to the general public. [Note from Rob: this refers to the Heritage Museum, housed in Lincoln College’s McKinstry Library, which also hosts the Layman Gallery.] 

I had spent some time at the Lincoln College Library on my route survey, which was when I first found out about the wooly mammoth tusk display. I also used the facility’s Wi-Fi to connect to the Internet, which was a great help for posting this infernal blog.


Lincoln is also home to Lincoln Christian University, founded as Lincoln Bible Institute in 1944. Though the school was founded right during World War II, with no property, no funds on hand, and no faculty signed on, it thrives today as a Christian institution of higher learning.



I had spent some time at the university several weeks earlier on my route survey, and I wanted to find out more of the school’s history. To that end I stopped at the Alumni and Visitors’ Center, just west of the entrance to the university proper, and right on Route 10. I was greeted by Ellen, the receptionist, who enlisted the help of Dianne from another office, when she heard my request for historical information about the school. Both ladies have family members serving in the U.S. military, or who have recently completed their time in the military, so they were interested in my walk.






Dianne suggested a book published just last year, called Voices and Verses, and written by Tom Tanner, with input from many people with former and current involvement with the school. Being a born cheapskate, I went first to the university library (officially the Jessie C. Eury Library) to find out whether they had a copy I could consult. They didn’t, so I turned to the bookstore, presided over by a beloved man known to all the students as “Mr. Book.” He was very gracious, offered any guidance I might need, and apologized that he didn’t have any coffee to offer me. He is truly a gentleman and a scholar.


I was hooked on Tom Tanner’s book almost as soon as I read the table of contents. There was even a very interesting chapter on the school’s relationship with the U.S. military. I decided to take the plunge and invest in the book, and was at the checkout counter waiting my turn, listening to one of the school’s professors, Eric Teoro, who was having an interesting discussion with the student who was checking out his 2-foot-high stack of theology books. (He’s a business professor, by the way, but this is a Christian university, after all.)


Eric is a veteran who served in the U.S. Air force. I got to shake his hand and thank him for his service. He referred me to a very interesting Roman Catholic theologian, Robert Barron, whose blog is at http://barronword.blogspot.com/.


I won’t be able to read the entire history of Lincoln Christian University tonight, but the chapter on the military connection mentions that Dean of Women Karen Diefendorf is a retired Army chaplain. In fact Lieutenant Colonel Diefendorf was recalled to active duty in January, and she’s currently serving her country in South Carolina.


Overwhelmed with all the information rattling around in my head about Lincoln and its environs, I decided to drive out to the Logan County Airport to try to resolve a mystery that had come up during my most recent visit to Lincoln on my route survey several weeks earlier. I had been on the Lincoln Christian University campus talking to some grad students, when a small, single-engine airplane flew over. There was no N number, but there were World War II era U.S. Air Force markings on the plane.


At the airport I spoke to a retired aircraft mechanic, who was doing maintenance on a little experimental craft with a pusher engine and propeller. After asking whether I was with the FFA, and hearing that I wasn’t, we had a good conversation. He said there had been a fly-in on a Wednesday, but that had been two days before my visit. He wasn’t aware of who had or flew such an airplane. The mystery remains unresolved, at least to me.


My mechanic contact is a veteran, so I thanked him for his service to our country. No one comes without a story, and he was no different. He and his wife, who used to live on the Sangamon River in a log cabin he had built, sold their home and moved to Logan County. They are still in the country, and they still have an acreage. Now they’re raising someone else’s children.


When I first heard the furor in the conservative community about Hillary Clinton’s book, It Takes a Village, I appreciated the concern people expressed about why parents weren’t raising their own kids. The most common response I heard to that book at the time was, “It takes a mom and dad.” Nevertheless, we live in an age when many retired people are raising their grandkids. I spoke to a man at Culver’s today, who is raising his nieces. My former next-door neighbor is raising her cousin’s son because both his mom and dad are incarcerated.


I have a friend, Blessing Adeoye, who has a Christian ministry in his home country of Nigeria. Usually an imprisoned woman has her child with her in prison. His organization has worked hard with prison and government officials to get those kids out of jail and into the homes of relatives.
What I’m saying is that, when mom and pop don’t come through for the kids, it really does take a village.


I wanted to try out the Lincoln Parkway, which is accessible from old Rte. 66 near the airport, and which goes past the big Eaton plant farther west. Eaton is a primary manufacturer of power distribution equipment. For instance the build electrical entry panels, such as we have in our homes (we probably call them breaker panels), and similar equipment for industrial applications. You can read all about their products at www.eaton.com/.


Farther south is the Logan Correctional Center. I’m glad people can have jobs there, but I’m saddened at the number of Illinoisans who need to be incarcerated for the protection of the law-abiding public and for their reclamation and education.

I had a coupon for a free sundae at Culvers, earned by submitting a positive comment to the company headquarters some weeks ago after a visit to a Culvers in Dixon, Illinois. I decided to indulge, so I drove west to the Culvers, went inside, and redeemed my coupon. Outside I had noticed a pickup with advertising for C & C Fudge. At the table next to me sate Dennis Cooley, the Fudge Guy.


He doesn’t currently have a brick-and-mortar store, but he’s working on that, out near the Logan Correctional Facility. Meanwhile he shows up at festivals, sweet corn days, pumpkin days, Oktoberfests, Railsplitter Fests, and so forth. Within the year, though, he hopes to have his fudgery up and running, and I hope to pay him a visit when that becomes reality.


That’s probably enough blogging for one day, and especially for you to read if you’re still with me at this point. I have another day in Lincoln, but there is no way I can begin to comprehend or detail all the amazing variety of  cultural, economic, and human-based information about this community.