The Back of The Station Wagon

Thoughts for Father's Day

A big reason why I love to travel is because I spent so much of my formative years traveling with my family.

Loosely defined that was mom, dad, and, for a few years, my sister (and her hefty bag of beer can sized rollers). Sometimes we got to take friends.

We traveled in a variety of huge cars and station wagons. They had names like "Wildcat". There was no such thing as a gameboy or an in car video system. Heck, for most of the time there wasn't even an 8 track. We played states, car bingo, and pretty much just watched the miles tick off across the American west.

If we were driving at night I'd try to tune in one of those massive three letter AM stations like KSL or KFI.

I planned the trips and made sure we stopped to read every historical marker and visited every tourist trap along the way. I know all about cast resin snakes, fireworks stands, and can recite the whole A&W family of burger's menu. I still dream of pecan shakes at Stuckeys.

If dad felt flush we stopped at a real restaurant like a Howard Johnson's. 

Most times we stopped at a city park or at a roadside picnic area under a tree and mom made PB&J's.

We visited virtually every World's Fair in North America and every National Park in the West. We hiked to Delicate Arch. We shivered in summer at Cedar Breaks and ventured into every crater and ice cave we came across. We admired petroglyphs and examined petrified wood. 

Mom and Dad

We stayed a night in Old Faithful Lodge. We visited our relatives in Colorado. We saw bears, foxes, elk, skunks, and coyotes. Most alive - some as roadkill.

There was a styrofoam ice chest and a couple of cartons of Viceroy's in the car. I drank the Shasta's and they smoked the Viceroy's.

Aside from those damned Viceroy's I was in heaven.

All these years later. I still think of the miles of neon signs and wigwam motels in places like Truth or Consequences NM - and those little tiny bars of soap they had.

We drove through lightning storms and rain so intense we could not see the line on the road. We pulled off to bask in the view of the beautiful rainbows that came later. To this day I adore the smell of pines after rain.

Nowadays mom and dad are behind the wheels of a big RV in heaven.

And I'm sure they are still arguing about which off ramp to take.

Miss them so.

Happy Fathers Day Dad. Thank you for sharing all that time with me on the road.

Roadboy's Travels © 2010

Flying High

That Other Smithsonian

I am posting this while flying. The era of In-fight internet is here and the irony of flying while posting this seems pretty appropriate.

This was one of those weeks where despite elaborate planning efforts, everything just wound up going (as my old friend Bill G used to say) "Twist-O". But I won't go into that here.

The good news is that finding myself with a few extra hours on my hands near Dulles Airport allowed me to (finally) go see one of the newer Smithsonian offerings; The Steven F. Udvar-Hazy Air and Space Museum. As always it is a Smithsonian museum, so it is free, in fact I was met by a smiling security guard who opened the door and offered a very warm and sincere "welcome". It was like they had been waiting for me.

The Exterior is a Cacophony of Slam-it-Together Geometry

The difference here is that they charge $15 to park. This may explain why there is no easy shuttle service to Dulles. They want you to arrive in your personal or rental car.

Officially in Chantilly Virginia, the new museum is pretty darned cool. Sort of the worlds biggest aviation attic. Before entering the museum I thought I'd just go in and be awed by an amazing collection of flying history. What I found was more than awe, it was also pretty moving. The items in here all form the way we live and changed the very geopolitics of our world.

First off, the shear size of it is overwhelming. The entrance is up on the second floor, so after clearing security, the first thing you see way off in the distance is the Space Shuttle Enterprise. And it actually looks pretty small.

Then it hits you. The space shuttle looks small. Geez this place is big!

Real Planes In A Building So Big That Hung From the Ceiling 
They Look Like A Bunch of Kites

The Enterprise

After you make it to the end of the initial observation promenade your eyes fall on a blackbird strategic reconnaissance aircraft. Here is amazing 1964 era Lockheed Skunk Works technology that fell into the direct path of the political wood chipper. Retired twice, it flew off and on until 1999. And although it hasn't flown in over a decade it still looks stealthy and totally sleek today. It is officially the fastest air breathing manned aircraft. Way ahead of its time.

Blackbird #972

I put it in the same category as Lockheed's earlier bit of dark amazement, the U-2 spyplane (not on display). I bring up the U-2 because I actually witnessed one of those taking off (the base staff at NAS Moffett Field referred to it as a "launch") during a high school field trip in 1972. The U-2 provided data to save our bacon over and over. It befuddled the Russians and allowed President Kennedy to understand the extent of the problem we faced in the Cuban Missile Crisis.) These are two of the planes that have helped maintain democracy itself.

I found myself actually getting choked up at the sight of the Apollo space craft, remembering both its successes and tragedies. And my heart moved way up in my throat when I realized the big silver WWII era bomber I was admiring carried the name Enola Gay.

The Plane That Ended Our War With Japan
And Changed The World We Live in Forever

One of Only 3 Boeing Stratoliner's Ordered by Pan Am
(With 33 seats, it could fly pressurized "Above the Weather"
 at 14,000 Feet! )

There is Wiley Post's little plane he flew around the world, and a romantic statue of Colonel Billy Mitchell who was shouted down when during the first world war he stressed the need for an American air force. 

The museum is a showstopper and well worth the drive from it's more crowded Smithsonian brethren on The Mall in DC.  

Roadboy's Travels © 2010

Awesome!

The New Cowboys Stadium and its Foundation

This week my travels were both scheduled and unscheduled. Some of the unscheduled part included an opportunity to visit the new home of the Dallas Cowboys.


I found the stadium to be symbolic of modern professional football itself, big, brash, and brutal; a stark vehicle of pure merchandising. This building left Roadboy almost completely at a loss for words.

Cowboy Stadium

Before entering the structure we were regaled with all the usual facts and figures. It is bigger than huge. The steel in it could build many golden gate bridges. The conduit used in it could loop the world over and over and still reach the moon. Heck, it could seat the entire population of most cities in the US at a single time.

Perfect Sight Lines From Anywhere

Private Boxes and Lounges Everywhere

Yep This is "Their" Locker Room

After all the hoopla of the place, I found myself having to admit that while it is one of the most technically perfect built structures in the world, the new stadium is totally vacuous. It, like much of modern architecture itself, is simply devoid of soul.

The Huge Jumbo Tron

Most Spectators Watch it - Not the Actual Game

(Click it to see the Board in Action)

So, I found myself feeling sort of empty. I had just walked through a building that represents an enormous achievement, yet I kept thinking "but why was so much effort put into this?".

Then as I left, off to one side of the entry, it all became clear. There was a humble statue of Coach Tom Landry. It had been relocated from the old (now imploded) Texas Stadium (we used to call the "Half Asstrodome"!) to the new stadium.

The statue reminded me that it is not the current owner's power and money that built the Cowboys, no it was Coach Landry and the amazing string of players he nurtured that form the true foundation of this new stadium.

Landry was from the "Best Generation". A boy from Mission Texas who played high school football, then went on to UT only to have his studies interrupted by World War 2.

During the war he flew 30 B-17 bomber missions over Europe. He survived the crash of one of the flights in Belgium.

He then returned to Texas and completed his degree in Industrial Engineering.

He, himself, went on to play professional football becoming an All-Pro cornerback in New York. Eventually, he found his true calling not in playing football, but in coaching it. He became head coach of the Cowboys and under his tenure the Cowboys won 2 Superbowls and enjoyed 20 consecutive winning seasons. A feat that remains unmatched today.

Coach Landry always innovated. He changed it all up, then stood at the sidelines in his trademark fedora to watch.

He was fired almost immediately after the arrival of the present team owner.

Landry was man enough to cry when he had to tell his team his career with the Cowboys was over.

Coach Tom Landry

So before you enter the new stadium, to witness a building where every single item down to the cupholder is about money, licensed and paid for, please take a moment to look at the sculpture of Coach Landry.

He represents what the game was, and should be, instead of what it has become.


Roadboy's Travels © 2010

Dancing Upon The Clouds

Uncle Vernon's Wish

When I was a kid, it was understood that flying was expensive and pretty much reserved for movie stars and family emergencies. Dad was a police officer and his salary dictated that our summer vacations would be spent traveling in a station wagon or camping by a lake somewhere.


I took my first flight when I was five. It was with my next door neighbors; The Hackshaw's. They asked me to accompany them on a flight from the Bay Area to San Diego for a relative's 105th birthday. Mom made sure I was dressed in my best trousers with a sweater from Monkey Wards. No way was she going to let her kid look like riff-raff. We boarded a PSA Super Electra jet (why do I still remember that fact so clearly 50 years later?). The flight, thankfully, was pillow smooth. I remember how satisfying it was to gaze down on an ocean of mashed potato clouds! 

This week I flew twice. One trip was from Phoenix to rain soaked Nashville. That trip involved weaving our little jet between one amazing cloud formation after another.

Plying Our Way to Nashville

As I looked out at the valleys and canyons formed by a series of magnificent Cumulus Castellanus clouds, I remembered the last request of my Uncle Vernon. Vernon was the uncle that normally did not feel the need to say all that much. Smiles came easy to him. And when my chain smoking, diesel fixing, uncle neared death, he instructed aunt Zora to make sure he was buried without shoes - so he could "dance upon the clouds in his bare feet".


As I looked at those amazing clouds it occurred to me how we mostly miss the essential joy of flying; simply looking out the window. Nowadays when I fly, I see most passengers reading their books and kindles, watching movies on tiny little I-pod screens, sleeping, and/or playing sudoku. Almost no one gazes out of the window. Pilots seem bored too; rarely pointing out amazing sights below us like the Grand Canyon or the Meteor Crater anymore.

Northern Arizona's Meteor Crater

(Look at Approximately 9:00 O'Clock on the Photo)

Yet, while today's air travel experience is different: the seats are small, and seat mates seemingly all proudly display their latest tattoo's whilst wearing their very best "wifebeater" tank top, the view outside of the plane from a window seat is just as good as ever.


The puffy clouds are still there and the crazy quilt of America's agricultural heartland still extends from the front range of the Rockies all the way to the Atlantic.


Drifting in and out of those amazing clouds this week I was a kid again.


I also was pretty sure that somewhere out there Uncle Vernon was having the time of his life.

Roadboy's Travels © 2010

Summer's Arrival

Anticipating Another Season in the Sun

After our arrival in Phoenix some fifteen years ago, I remember having friends and relatives from Seattle to California ask "how on earth are you going to survive those beastly Arizona summers?"

The truth of the matter is we didn't really know. But after surviving many years in the Pacific Northwest and Alaska with 9-10 months of titanium gray skies or annual perma-winters, we knew we'd just adapt.

It did take a few years, but now as the first thermals of summer hit and I walk up a jetway at Sky Harbor, I'll hear visitors ask each other "how do these people stand this?". As they are asking their rhetorical question, the lizard in me is feeling the same heat and saying "Yes!"

Sadly, the lovely shoulder seasons that transition Arizona from our beautiful winters to our blistering summers, and back, are far too short.

Moon Over Sedona's Redrocks

But, the shoulder is precisely where we are now. This means the sage is blooming, native trees are ablaze in yellow, prickly pears are flowering, and the tops of the saguaro's are popping. Mornings are still lovely, evenings are a joy, but the hours in between are starting to heat up.

The streets are more spacious as a whole bunch of ASU's 65,000 students have started their journey's home, and our beloved "Snowbirds" have long since returned to northern climes to start seasonal mowing of their big green lawns.

The escapee's miss more than the heat. They miss our calm, slow, HOT, summers. They miss disgusting dust storms, loud buzzing insects, near radioactive parking lots, and the other wordly magic of our dazzling summer monsoons.

So, wherever you call home, please join me in my rapturous anticipation of the first ears of peaches and cream corn, fireworks on the fourth, the whirr of ice cream churning, lots of perfect margarita's, and maybe a harvest moon!

All the best from Roadboy!

Raodboy's Travels © 2010

The Tovrea Castle

Architectural Folly

"An often extravagant pictureseque building erected to suit a fanciful taste" 
           Merriam Webster

Update August 2014
With the City budget on the mend 2 hour tours of the castle are being scheduled for 2015. Castle tours will be conducted twice each morning on Fridays, Saturdays and Sundays from January 9- June 28. The ticket prices are $15 Adult, $10 Children 2-12 and $13 Seniors, Military and Students. To secure tickets call 800-838-3006. You may also access by the web:  2015 Tickets 

Accessibility is available to individuals with walkers or in wheelchairs, but not mobility scooters. For any further details you may leave a message at: 602-256-3221 or email: Tours@tovreaCastleTours.com 

Every big city has them; the orphans. They are the buildings that were built at the wrong time or were put in the wrong place. Some are just downright odd.

Frequently, they show up in extreme climates; the big heavy timber lodge high up in the mountains, or the house built by some hermit in a cave.

My home, the Sonoran desert, has always been a magnet for dreamers (sometimes even kooks) who came, spent time, money, and proceeded to build their dreams. 

After the dreamers move on, or die, the buildings (or fragments of buildings) they left whisper to everyone that passes that they have a story to tell.

In Phoenix we have a bunch of these architectural "folly's". There is the huge castle built by a rich dentist on south slope of Camelback Mountain. On South Mountain there is the "Mystery Castle" that Boyce Luther Gulley built in the 1930's as a giant "sand castle that you could live in" for his daughter (who lived in the house until her death in November 2010).


But two buildings I have seen almost every time I land at Sky Harbor Airport in Phoenix have always intrigued me. One is the lonely little decommissioned church sitting all by itself just west of the main runways. 


The other is the "Tovrea" Castle - the little wedding cake resting atop a hill just east of the main runways.

The Tovrea Castle

One place is sacred. The other is a folly.

To make way for airport expansions old portions of the neighborhood just west of the airport were torn down. Despite that, no one could bring themselves to tear down the little adobe church. The church, clearly an essential part of a neighborhood that is now long gone, is still loved. So much so that it is cleaned up by former neighbors and used once each year to celebrate Christmas.

The folly is the Tovrea Castle; the little plaster fantasy sitting atop a hill surrounded by seemingly zillions of saguaros.

I had always wondered about the castle. Well this week my questions were answered as the local architectural community was given a stem-to-stern tour of the castle. 

The tour was bittersweet. Although millions of dollars have been spent to rebuild the landmark and its amazing gardens, our current economic downturn prevents the City from finishing the project anytime soon. Further, City officials have had to announce that budget woes severely limit public tours of the renovated castle and gardens.

Cararro's Gardens Surrounding the Castle

So, for those like me, that have always wondered about it, here is the story of the "Tovrea" Castle. 


First off, it is misnamed. It should be named the "Carraro Castle" after its creator. It was built from 1928-1930 by an Italian immigrant named Alessio Carraro. Prior to his relocation to Phoenix, Carraro had made a small fortune selling sheet metal in San Francisco in the two decades following the great quake. 

Alessio, and his son Leo, came to Phoenix, purchased 277 acres, and took two years to build his dream resort in the desert. 

Carraro planned to welcome visitors to his hotel and then sell some of them homesites around the hotel. His timing could not have been worse. As the castle neared completion the adjacent land was developed by the Tovrea family into smelly feedlots and slaughterhouses. So the air quality on Cararro's property was awful. To make things worse the stock market crashed.

So instead of enjoying his dream hotel, Carraro wound up selling everything to a mystery buyer who came to San Francisco in 1931. Only after selling it did Carraro realize that the buyer was representing Della Tovrea (wife of the adjacent feedlot owner) who always fancied Carraro's castle.


Della (whose husband had recently died) moved into the castle, living in it seasonally for the next 38 years.

 Plans and Sections 

The Castle itself has three full stories above ground, a full walk-out basement below, and a domed lantern on top. It defies conventional structural design, with no continuous columns running through the building from floor to floor. Instead each floor was built independently (like a series of drums).

The building features wonderful light fixtures, a large ornamental fireplace (crowned with a medallion from Phoenix' treasured Orpheum Theater), gleaming hardwood floors, and a textured basement ceiling that can only be described as whipped cream.

 

The Whipped Cream Ceiling and Fireplace Medallion

Della's story (and life) came to a tragic end in 1969 when thieves put ladders on the side of the castle and entered through open windows upstairs. An aging Della who slept in the lower floors heard the intruders. She had a gun and shot a hole through the ceiling hoping to scare them off.

 

Main Level Wall Stencils

The Bullet Hole in the Ceiling

It was of no use, the burglars attacked and beat her so severely that she eventually died from her wounds. 

Blooming Reminders That Life Goes On

So as you pass the east end of the runway at Sky Harbor look a little to the north. A folly with a pretty amazing story awaits your discovery.   

Roadboy's Travels © 2010

A Little Slice of Heaven Near Austin

Take Off Your Shoes and Sit A Spell

The Capital of Texas is known for rolling hills underlain with limestone, kids wearing "Keep Austin Weird" T-shirts, the sound of music from the airport all the way to Austin City Limits.

Austin is the University of Texas and its ubiquitous tower, LBJ's distinctive presidential library, and Ladybird's beloved bluebonnets blooming along every major highway. It is sunsets over Lake Travis, amazing steak dinners, and bar-b-que elevated to the status of a religion.

It is zillions of bats emerging at twilight from under the Congress Street Bridge, overpaid geeks, and (of course) the "Leg" (pronounced "ledge").

Austin works hard and it plays hard. Which leads to the need to slow down once in awhile.

Well, I have found the perfect place to do just that. A place to unwind, rewind, or recharge. It is just a little over 15 miles out of town and halfway to another world. It is the Hyatt Regency Lost Pines Resort.

To get there, you point the old Chevy toward Bastrop Texas. When you reach the funny blinking lights drive a bit further and then turn left. From there you will need to drive another 2 miles through a beautiful nature preserve. Take care as you will cross a couple of horse trails and be rewarded with glimpses of the resort's golf course and the Colorado River.

Upon arrival you will see that the hotel is made up of a rambling series structures. It is clearly designed to be reminiscent of a comfortable old farm. Parking is not convenient. But a proper stay at a resort like this means you will have no further need for your car, so that part is forgivable. Plus a hotel staffer in a golf cart will likely greet you at your car to shuttle you to the lobby.

Welcome Home

Once you park the chevy, you are done with it.

Entering the lobby is a pleasure. It is big and beautiful, yet it somehow feels homey and understated at the same time. There are big stone fireplaces at each end, big comfy seating, and a chandelier overhead that is actually an old tree branch.

The Lobby

Check in is smooth, but then you must actually make the trek to your room. It may prove to be a real hike as the place is very spread out. Along the way, however, you will journey through an amazing photo and poster gallery of the who's who of the Texas music scene. I found myself wandering almost aimlessly through the whole place just to see all of the photos.

The Galleries

Outside the hotel is another story. You have horseback riding, views and trails along the river, a magnificent golf course, and a huge fitness complex. Then there is the swimming pool. The pool area is a complete party zone. There is a walk-in sandy beach, waterfalls, beach volleyball, waterslides, even a lazy river where you can jump into an innertube and just float.

The Swim Extravaganza

There is a big bike rack with cruiser bikes you can just grab and go. And everyone is taken care as there are bikes of very size and shape (even the tricycle and training wheel set is covered).

Nights Are Special Too

The rooms are big and comfy and quiet as can be. The beds are great.

The only drawbacks are miserable water pressure (water dribbled out of my shower and refilling the tank after a toilet flush is an all day affair), weak front desk / bell service staff, and that annoying "Resort" fee. Earth to Hyatt: The place is worth it, so just adjust the room rate.

Overall, I'd have to say, this is a place where you can step back to a better time. A place where it is totally viable to just sit on a porch and read a book.

One of the Dining Rooms

It is a place to play with the family, eat some great food, and just get human.

All found - deep in the very heart of Texas!

Roadboy's Travels © 2010


PS: Special Thanks to Paul for the Great Photos!