A lazy afternoon in Columbia, IL

Before I declare Upside-Down Library Guy's behavior too unorthodox, I should confess that I subsequently found myself in the ladies' room of two small-town libraries within the next hour. The all-female staffs of the libraries in both Dupo and Columbia are apparently pretty lax about refilling the soap in the men's room, and when you gotta wash, you gotta wash.
You can't spend a 73-degree November day indoors, though, so I took a nice walk up and down Main Street in relentlessly-pleasant Columbia, IL. I stopped for a burger and a Boulevard at Tiny's Pub & Grill (above), a sprawling establishment that contains a small, traditional tavern in front, a newer, brighter bar and pool room in the back with a vaulted ceiling and a south-of-the-border flair, and a spacious patio. I peered into the windows of Greenfield's (above), a charmingly old-school restaurant and lounge that was until recently run by the family of a friend of mine, and now stands empty. The actual bar within is supposedly Columbia's oldest (the building dates back about 150 years), cut from a single piece of solid walnut. I located Columbia's most distinctive piece of mid-century architecture (below...and please correct me, Columbians, if I'm wrong). Then, to rest and get in out of the Thanksgiving-week heat, I popped back into the library.

The back issues of the local paper are bound rather than microfilmed here, which is a lot easier on the eyes. I plowed through all of 1950 looking for any news of business openings or closings, and didn't find much: Just a dry-cleaner changing hands, a church expansion, and the remodeling of a restaurant (Wayne's) and the local Turner's Hall. The Columbia Star--in 1950, at least--has to be the most boring small-town newspaper ever. There aren't many photos, and the front page is regularly populated by wedding announcements and small children's birthday parties. The local movie house didn't even advertise, sparing the Star even a mild burst of Hollywood hype. The high spot was definitely the comics page.

Like a lot of small-town papers, the Star settled for second-string strips. (Today's analogues would be Fred Basset, The Born Loser, and Frank & Ernest.) I look at old papers a lot, and the only two strips I recognized were Virgil--a fairly creative, Skippy-style "kid strip"--and Mutt and Jeff. Mutt and Jeff was still pretty good in 1950, with smart, unorthodox pacing and a regular flow of absurd Jeff-isms. But what I'd like to call your attention to is a trio of strips I'd never seen before.

Silent Sam, as it turns out, is pretty well-documented online; it's an American adaptation of a Swedish strip called Anderson's Adventures, and Jeff Hayes was just one of several artists to draw the strip over the years (he ran things from 1941 to 1953). Sam usually wore a large hat, but in this beach-based strip, he resembles Bruce Willis acting out a Henry gag.
Perhaps the most distinctive strip in the Star during this period--due to its dogged single-mindedness and fitfully awful art--was The Old Gaffer, by Clay Hunter (now making its first Google appearance, thanks to yours truly). I have no idea how long the strip had been around by 1950, but for the first few months of the year, EVERY SINGLE STRIP WAS ABOUT THE DUDE'S BEARD. (Granted, the Star was not a daily paper, so there may have been more Old Gaffers than I was privy to, but it's appalling enough that the good people of Columbia, IL, at the very least, were treated to such an unyielding onslaught of hoary whisker humor.) By summertime, Hunter was mixing in the occasional joke about Gaff's advanced age. (He was in the Revolutionary War! Ho ho!!) These were no better; in fact they were a little disappointing. By this time, I was actually getting curious about what would appear in the little fella's Santa-esque appendage in the next Star: it had by now hosted birds, alphabet soup, and even a booby trap that thwarted a would-be mugger. It had allowed the Gaffer to smart-off to pushy salesmen trying to sell him belts and ties. It had warmed his ancient ass at a football game. Switching the focus away from the beard at this point was tantamount to Lucy letting Charlie Brown kick the football, or Jon Arbuckle scoring with a girl. (Oh, wait, that happened.)

The Old Gaffer you see here is a bit atypical, in that the "extra" is atypically non-hideous. Generally, any one-shot character drawn by Hunter was frighteningly ugly and amateurishly-drawn. Mr. Google Glasses here is unusually pleasant.

The only reason you're seeing Sunnyside above as well: I was struck by the simultaneous and identical headfirst ejections of two characters straight out of the panel (and presumably clear off the comics page) by the punchlines in two adjacent strips. Since I did include Sunnyside, though, I might as well share a little trivia: The noticeably well-drawn strip ran from 1949 to 1951 and was produced by Clark S. Haas, who nearly a decade later would be partially responsible for the groundbreakingly weird TV cartoon Clutch Cargo, and eventually worked on mediocre Hanna-Barbera fare such as Speed Buggy. Sure, you remember Speed Buggy. It was the Saturday Morning show that answered the unasked question: "What if Scooby-Doo was a car?"

Dupo, IL: A new perspective

This has nothing to do with anything, really, but it's too good to pass up.

This morning I was doing a little research at the library in Dupo, IL. The only other person there besides the librarians was a normal-lookin' dude with a shaved head, sitting at one of the computer terminals. After I'd been reading a local-history book for a few minutes, I glanced over and noticed that this fellow had draped himself over a chair and was just hanging there upside down, feet in the air, giggling intermittently. This went on for a good fifteen minutes.

Eventually, an older gentleman came in to drop off a book and asked one of the librarians "Is that young man all right?" She sort of laughed it off, but then called the upside-down patron by his name and told him to cut it out. He righted himself, still giggling a little, and walked toward the desk. "What on earth were you doing?" she asked him.

"Just tryin' to stay off of the Internet," he replied.

Clearly, it didn't work.

Free to a Good Home

As of 9 p.m. on October 13, there was a decent number of bowling-alley seating units piled next to the dumpster at King Pin Bowl at the Carrollton Center shopping plaza in Bridgeton, MO (Natural Bridge at McKelvey). They're white Fiberglas (or at least very sturdy molded plastic), two seats to a unit, with a blue circle on the seats. Wish I'd had a chance to get a photo (or could find one online), but maybe the best way to describe 'em would be to say they look kinda like something from the bridge of a spaceship on the original Star Trek. They definitely have a late-'60s/early-''70s "mod" look to 'em, and I figure they were original to the bowling alley--which I'm pretty sure was built in the late '60s or thereabouts.


King Pin was originally a Brunswick facility, and I think these seats still have the Brunswick logo on them somewhere.


If you're interested in hauling a few away to save the trash man some trouble, I can assure you that three of the two-seat units fit neatly into an Xterra with the back seats removed...

The bell tolls for Bel-Air Bowl

Back in Spring 2004, Toby and I took a self-guided tour of many of the bowling alleys of the Metro East (the St. Louis suburbs in Madison and St. Clair County, IL). We didn’t actually do any bowling on this occasion, as our objective was to find the the most-retro, least-remodeled old-school bowling alley in the area and we were mostly just takin’ pictures and movin’ along.

I never got around to posting the pics on this long-dormant blog, but recent events have reminded me why I started Mid-Century Dream in the first place: Primarily to create a permanent record of some vanishing aspects of American life. So here are some of the 2004 photos, accompanied by a fresh August ’07 update.

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  KNITTIG’S BOWL (Now REDBIRD LANES): 1801 Camp Jackson Rd., East St. Louis IL

God only knows where my original notes went—2004 is, I believe, resting in the old crapped-out PC I used before I wised up and discovered the External Hard Drive and my constant companion, Flash Memory—so I can’t tell you for sure what this bowling alley’s original name was. I do know something about the Knittigs, though: They used to run some lanes in south St. Louis County, and some time after the original Knittig Lanes closed, the founder’s grandson (I think) resurrected the family business on the opposite side of the Mississippi. Taking over the old Cahokia Bowl (someone correct me if I’m wrong!), Tony and Anne Knittig filled the place with memorabilia from the old location and named the lounge in honor of the founder’s nickname: Tycoon’s.

Toby and I visited on a weekday at around 11 a.m., when the place had just opened but no bowlers had yet arrived. We had a nice chat with the lady at the desk, who may have been Anne Knittig. (Someday, I swear I will recover the contents of all my old hard drives and dump them onto an external, releasing a magnificent fountain of information…Information wants to be free, they say!) She told us that the original building had about five lanes added to it several years after opening, and the difference in the brickwork is visible on the exterior if you know where to look. Since we clearly told her we were there not to bowl (this time, anyway) but to soak up the nostalgia and she seemed okay with that, I have no freakin’ idea why we came away with just an exterior photo…but here it is, complete with the giant 2-D bowling pin that no longer stands in the parking lot.

Flash forward to August 2007, when a desire to roll a few balls combined with guilt for never having given the Knittigs’ cool old alleys any business resulted in a trip to the East Side. I’d forgotten what a sad-looking neighborhood the lanes were in; it’s on a forlorn strip dotted with down-at-the-heels used-car lots and body shops and boarded-up cinderblock cafes. While I’d always thought of Knittig’s as being in Cahokia—not a pretty town itself—Google Maps just informed me that the proper address is East St. Louis, which has an even more forlorn reputation for decay and economic depression. Frankly, you probably wouldn’t be seeing a lot of white folks bowling here if the place wasn’t located just a stone’s throw from Interstate 255.

Anyway, I was surprised to see a new sign in place of the big ol’ bowling pin out front: Knittig’s is now Red Bird Lanes. Sound familiar, St. Louisans? Like Knittig’s itself, Red Bird Lanes was a fixture on the south side of St. Louis for many years, and there was quite a hubbub when the popular 24-hour bowling center got bulldozed about 15 years ago and replaced with a Walgreen’s. The Red Bird guys announced that they were hoping to open in a new location, but nothing ever materialized. Could this be their triumphant (if low-key) return?

Well, it’s hard to say. All I learned from Internet searches is that the Knittigs sold the place back around July, and that the new owners have already hosted a prestigious tournament or two. I would’ve gone in and gotten the scoop (and done some bowling, of course), but the place was closed. The hours listed on the spiffy new Red Bird sign suggested that they should’ve been open at this time, but when I peeked through the door I could see a small engine of some kind sitting on the floor a few yards away, busily whirring. It looked like some kind of pump, maybe, and since we’ve had some pretty fierce storms here lately, it’s possible that the Red Bird sprung a leak and they had to take a day or two off to bail the place out. We’ll try the Bird again at a later date.

Determined to get some bowling in, we decided to head to the spectacular Panorama Lanes in nearby Belleville. Then I got lost, which is what I do in Belleville any time I stray from Main Street or Highway 159. Fortunately, we bumped into Bel-Air Bowl, which was another stop on the 2004 tour. But wait! It was now past dinnertime, and the parking lot was still empty? What th’--?! A sign taped to the front door told the story: Bel-Air Bowl was now at a new location on South Belt West, and an accompanying illustration showed the Bel-Air name tucked into the familiar shape of the Panorama’s distinctive neon sign.

Fine—that’s where we were trying to go anyway!
And so we did. And we finally did some damn bowling!

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  BEL-AIR BOWL (defunct): 1703 North Belt West, Belleville IL
  

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  (NEW) BEL-AIR BOWL (formerly Panorama Lanes): 200 South Belt West, Belleville IL
  

So what’s the lowdown on the Panorama-to-Bel-Air conversion? Is it a good thing?

Well, new owner Matt Shellabarger (who also runs St. Clair Bowl) thinks so, and so does longtime Panorama owner Frank Booker, who will stay on to manage the downstairs banquet facilities. And, since Shellabarger recognizes the value of the former Panorama’s well-preserved fifties-futuristic flavor, I think it’s a good thing too.

The old Bel-Air will be missed, and bowling will not be returning to the property due to a deed restriction. (In fact, at this time the facility is still for sale, and it’s a good-sized lot on a busy retail strip.) While the old Bel-Air was just the right age to possess a lot of retro charm, the sad fact is that most remodeling on the site took place when the mid-century look was considered gauche. When we visited in 2004, the last vestiges of its original flavor were found in the fantastic sign, the pastel-tiled restrooms, and the faint whiff of Googie that remained in the main-floor lounge (which was apparently nameless; Curly Joe’s was the downstairs tavern that was not yet open for the evening when we were there). The barroom had a large porthole window, and there were still traces of a fancy drop-ceiling effect that must have been pretty sophisticated in its heyday.

If one of the Belleville bowleries had to die, the Bel-Air was the logical sacrifice. Its stylistic integrity had been compromised, and it had eight fewer lanes than its competitor. The Panorama, meanwhile, appears to be in very good hands. Seller Frank Booker, a very nice gentleman who noticed us taking pictures on our 2004 visit and proudly gave us a history lesson and a tour of the entire building, is still on the job as banquet manager and resident historian (he was interviewed for the local paper here), and Matt Shellabarger is providing enough hindsight and capital to ensure that the new Bel-Air will be a state-of-the-art facility possessing plenty of the old-school flair identified with the sport. The amoeba-shaped recessed red neon ceiling of the snack bar isn’t going anywhere, the outdoor sign is being relettered and relit, and the brand-new lounge furniture is true to the vibe. (Matt’s plans are detailed here.)

Below, a couple of bonus photos from Shellabarger’s awesome-in-its-own-right St. Clair Bowl: The humble but welcoming foyer, and a wonderful mural depicting Belleville landmarks and composed entirely of carpet. Not shown: The impressive upstairs lounge that overlooks the bowling lanes through soundproof windows and offers live music.

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  ST. CLAIR BOWL: 5950 Old Collinsville Road, Fairview Heights IL

As always, any background information, historical data or scuttlebutt of any kind is welcome here! I promise to try to update this blog more often, even though I just became a nearly-full-time college student.