Road Trip 10 Cities in Fourteen Days: Day 4 & 5

Day 4 & 5:
Route 66 Joplin, MO to Tulsa, OK

STILL Kickin' It
on Route 66



The next site on Paul's list was the Woody Guthrie Center, but that was only six hours away so why not make a stop at some intermediary historic site? And what could be more historic than the garage where Bonnie and Clyde stayed for a month, drinking and holding raucous card games with their crew, and finally, cornered, shooting their way out and killing two law men on the way? Paul had the address, and thought there might be a streetside plaque where we could take our photos and be on our way-- little did we know it would turn out to be one of the hot spots of our trip.



We cruised the streets of Joplin that Sunday morning till WAZE led us to a plain white garage. I figured the apartment was above that garage, which was quite the thing even in the 40s, when my parents' first place was an apartment over a double garage. This one had a big Historic marker. And of course, we stood there, reading the marker because we read everything. Mid-sentence, a man, wearing a pair of baggy pair of shorts that said "Blake Beach Lifeguard" and a maroon T-shirt with motorcycles on it,  came flying (& I know that's a dead metaphor and it's overused, but believe me, his feet were off the ground, in motion) out of that little door to the left of the garage doors, then he came to a lively stop (not a dead stop), and his face turned from panic to relief as he said, "Oh, I heard someone outside, and suddenly realized I had left my truck unlocked and then thought, what if someone is trying to steal my truck?"

Then, we said, "Oh no, we just drove here from Ohio to read this marker," and he said, "Well we just eloped, and didn't tell anyone, and we rented this as an AirB&B. Do you want to come up and see it?" Now my friend Tom Barlow, wrote me, "If you got these people out of bed on their honeymoon, Bonnie and Clyde weren't the only criminals in that place." But really, how could we say no? We trooped up the stairs, and there was the bride, Sandra, with her shoulder-length hair still full and wavy, wearing a sweet black polka-dotted negligee with black lace and black straps, suddenly become the perfect tour guide, as Mitchell, the groom, explained to her who we were. He didn't say interlopers, but we were, except they seemed thrilled to share it with us. "These are the bullet holes," Sandra said, pointing to distinctive ruts in the wall." "And this," said Mitchell, "Is where Clyde's brother used to throw his knife into the floor in a nervous habit." Sandra showed me her yellow sundress with bright red roses and the fluffy full slip she wore under it, and she got out some artifacts that were in the apartment and took us to a big, recently installed neon sign that said, "Historic ROUTE 66."

We asked if they would like photos and after taking a Route 66 pic, we paraded downstairs for a photoshoot of all of us:




Mitchell actually had to go to work that afternoon, and Sandra would be leaving to drive to another city where she is a nurse, hoping to be able to transfer to Joplin soon. We sent them these photos, as promised, but never heard back. But we were on our way, and hope they are too.

Not to miss all the other Joplin sites, Paul spotted a Schlotsky's, which is heart leapt to with memories of his life eating in Texas in his youth. Refreshed with a veggie sandwich, we went on to the Joplin History and Mineral Museum.

Clearly, the docents had foremost to show us the minerals, and I tried to look polite as they talked on about some mineral that was there and some very big company that was there, then I asked them to point us to the Bonnie and Clyde exhibit, the cookie collection, and the Langston Hughes corner. 

The BONNIE AND CLYDE exhibit did not disappoint: a lot of stuff the group left behind in their escape, including the camera with their many selfies.

More bullet holes!


Bonnie's jewelry left behind

photos of them...



...with us!

The NATIONAL COOKIE CUTTER HISTORICAL COLLECTION

Words don't do it justice. You know you love those aluminum ones.








Langston Hughes

We stopped to read a few words from the man born in Joplin, high schooled in Cleveland, belonging to the world:


Then, with only one more day on Route 66, we left Joplin, still belting it out

"We didn't go to St. Louie, but Joplin Missouri 
and now Oklahoma with Tulsa city...."

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