What inspired you to consider making Blue Highways Revisited?
I started reading Heat-Moon's Blue Highways on a cold winter's night in January 1983 – I was
hooked. The thought of getting in a van or even a car and traveling the back roads of America for three
months was just so incredible that I decided then, that someday I’d make that trip. In 1983, I was just
three-plus years into my otolaryngology practice. I had a wife in medical school and two precious children,
ages eight and five. So that thought had to be put on hold for a few decades. I've been an avid
photographer since high school; and in the five years before retiring from medicine, I knew my second
career would be photography. So on the last day of February 2005 after 27 years of practice, I saw my
last private practice patient and started Ailor Fine Art Photography the next day.
Sometime in that first year, the seed that Heat-Moon's book planted in my cerebrum began to
sprout. (I don’t think it would show up on a CT or MRI scan, but who knows?) The thought, once again, of
traveling the back roads of America was now a possibility. In the spring of 2006 at Addison's Cafe in
downtown Columbia, I pitched the idea to Heat-Moon about my son (Edgar IV) and I retracing his Blue
Highways journey and capturing it photographically. Several things are most memorable from that
conversation. Heat-Moon had originally planned to photograph the route in 1978, but he said he had
trouble switching back and forth from left brain for writing and right brain for photography. He ended up
photographing mainly the characters he interviewed – the wonderful portraitures we see in his book. He
also told me that the most common question from his readers was, "When are you going to take the trip
again to see how things have changed?" So fortunately, he liked the idea. Years later he would confide in
me that he didn't expect anyone, including my son and me, to retrace the entire 13,889 miles and put it
into book form.
To combine the excitement of photography with the several decades-old dream of retracing Blue
Highways seemed to me to be the ultimate. Getting to work with Gar (Edgar IV) was one of the most
enjoyable aspects of the five-and-one-half-year project. It could only have gotten better if Susie could
have traveled more of the route with me. The result of combining the joy of photography and a dream is
Blue Highways Revisited.
What images demonstrated the most significant changes over the years?
When I compare our trip with Heat-Moon’s about thirty years prior, the two most significant
changes were in Frenchman, Nevada, and the route through West Virginia. When Heat-Moon stopped in
Frenchman, the settlement consisted of a cafe-bar-motel-gas station-home with a population of four:
Laurie Chealander and her husband, Chris; their two-year-old daughter, Callie; and Chris’ mother,
Margaret. It was located on a remote section of US 50 and sat adjacent to a US Navy bombing range. In
September 2007, as I followed Heat-Moon’s route in western Nevada, I found where Frenchman,
Nevada, had once been. There were no buildings – only a few pipes rising from the ground. Examining
the Frenchman photograph in Blue Highways confirmed I had found the right spot – a large gravel parking
area, the shape of the distant mountains, the angle of US 50, and the “No-Trespassing-US-Navybombing-range” sign on the fence bordering the south side of the gravel lot. The pieces of the puzzle fit.
But I was unable to locate any members of the Chealander family. Fallon and Reno directory assistance
produced several leads, but none of them led me to the Chealanders. While I was eating lunch at the
Frenchman site and pondering how to track down the Chealanders, two Navy fighters began to drop
practice bombs just a mile or so away. In 1978, Heat-Moon was told about a plane that dropped a bomb
on Highway 50 the year before, “and nearly killed some clown in a car.” The dummy bomb “just bounced
up on the pavement and rolled dead.” I saw the reality of that bar story graphically reinforced. The
Chealanders used to sell hats and T-shirts with the engraving, “I got bombed at Frenchman.” I had just
joined the club. The US Navy removed the buildings after it purchased the property in 1986. I would finally
track down Laurie Chealander in 2009. It was worth the effort. She had a wonderful story to tell since
Heat-Moon’s visit in 1978.
The other major change in the Blue Highways route was Heat-Moon’s path through West Virginia.
If you know any of Heat-Moon’s books – Blue Highways, PrairyErth, River-Horse, or Roads to Quoz – you
know he writes as he sees it. He mixes observation of minutia most of us would never notice with the
ability to distill it all with stiletto-sharp insight that produces powerful and revealing descriptions. Anything
in the crosshairs of that intellect may come across looking like an unflattering mug shot. So was the case
with some of the West Virginia he saw in late spring of 1978.
I went looking for things he saw: old tires hanging from fence posts, dangling from trees, heaped
in yards, sliding down hills. Heat-Moon wrote, “It seemed as if West Virginia sat at the bottom of a
mountain where America came annually to throw away their two hundred million used tires. Should you
ever go looking for some six hundred million tons of ferrous scrap rusting away in America, start with
West Virginia.” He was especially frank about Sutton in the heart of West Virginia. It’s not surprising that
the secretary of state of West Virginia wrote him in 1983 to tell him never to return to the Mountaineer
State. Heat-Moon, nevertheless, has been back multiple times and has noted some changes for the
better.
My passage through West Virginia in 2008 couldn’t have been more different – no roadside fields
or yards with old tires, no abandoned cars or piles of rusty scrap. In Sutton I happened upon the owner
and editor of the town paper, the Braxton Democrat Central, Craig Smith. I was setting up my tripod and
camera to photograph what I concluded had been Elliott’s Fountain in 1978. When I explained to Mr.
Smith I was retracing and photographing the path of Blue Highways, he gave me a wry smile and
explained that that book was never thought of fondly in his community or for that matter in West Virginia.
He remained cordial but aggressively made the case that the depiction of the town didn’t represent Sutton
accurately. He went on to explain that the scrap iron and the mounds of old tires, although exaggerated,
might be due to another significant factor. I checked out his theory. I think our readers will enjoy the story.
Does your son’s interest in photography differ from yours?
Gar (Edgar IV) began his photography career at a much younger age. He already has his own
photography business – Ailor Photography New York. His landscape and architecture work is
outstanding, but his real love is environmental portraiture – especially maternity, newborn, children, and
teenagers. I can’t begin to capture people the way he does. He was not able to cover the entire 14,000
miles of the Blue Highways route because of a full time job. I would have loved for him to help do the
follow-up portraitures of Heat-Moon’s characters.
What were the easiest and the most difficult things to find from Heat-Moon’s trip? Were you able to
duplicate most of his verbal images with your photography or were some of the original sites or scenes
non-existent today?
The landscapes that Heat-Moon so vividly described frequently came into view as I rounded a
bend or came over a hill. It was amazing how often that occurred. You just knew that was the scene he
had written about thirty years before. Beside the changes already noted in Frenchman and the West
Virginia route, the next most difficult images to duplicate were the characters, the mom-and-pop cafes,
and especially the five-thirty taverns.
Blue Highways had 23 photographs that included 37 people. We were able to find 11 of the
characters still living so we provide the reader with side-by-side photographs – Heat-Moon’s from 1978
and ours about three decades later. Searching in every little town revealed that, unfortunately, 20 of the
characters were dead. We could never fully account for six others. But we are able to bring the reader up
to date on most of the 37 people Heat-Moon photographed.
Some of the family-run restaurants had closed, but a fair number were still operational including
the City Café in Gainesboro, Tennessee; Jewel’s Deluxe Café in Darlington, South Carolina; and the
Swamp Guinea Restaurant, which was moved 20 miles north to Hartwell, Georgia. Pat’s Fisherman’s
Wharf Restaurant in Henderson, Louisiana, and Black’s in Abbeville, Louisiana, are still serving their
Cajun cuisine. Ovcarik’s Cafe, which touted four calendars in Dime Box, Texas, in 1978 has been closed
for years. The building was moved from the main street to a place along the railroad tracks and now
houses the Dime Box Community Center. We found that the Manhattan Cafe was renamed the Si Señor
Restaurant in Deming, New Mexico, but still serves great Mexican food. The Spouting Horn Restaurant
and Lounge in Depot Bay, Oregon, still sets “as if suspended above the harbor, . . . with all comings and
goings of men and boats.” Established in 1907, the Dan & Louis Oyster Bar in Old Town, Portland,
Oregon, is still serving oysters and more. The concrete tepee in Browning, Montana, that served
hamburgers in 1978 is now serving espresso. The Viking House in Bagley, Minnesota, is now the D-R
Café and still a popular gathering place. Renovation on The Cato Hotel, Cato, New York, was just
beginning when I passed through in June 2008 and is now the Olde Irish Inn, Pub and Restaurant – I
can’t wait to get back there and have a meal. Ben and Bernies on Lake Oneida in New York is now Abbye
Lynn’s. The Wasp’s Snack Bar-Diner (which deserves at least four calendars) and Bentley’s Restaurant
are both still serving the folks in Woodstock, Vermont. Ruke’s Seafood Deck in Ewell, Smith Island,
Maryland, is still serving its customers and has a great view of the harbor. And the Elk Lunch in
Gassaway, West Virginia, is still open.
The corner taverns where Heat-Moon met so many fascinating characters were less numerous
and more difficult to find. Tee’s or La Toupee’s in Breaux Bridge, Louisiana, closed years ago, but
Mulate’s has filled the gap for preserving the Cajun culture. Since 1978, the Eric’s he visited in Lafayette,
Louisiana, subsequently became Buddies and Friends, then Mamie’s, then Saddle Tramp, then Robin’s.
For years now, it has been the Wagon Wheel. Sonny’s Place in Dime Box, Texas, went out of business in
about 1985. The Desert Den Bar in Hachita, New Mexico, was the Hachita Liquor Saloon when I went
through in 2009. Unfortunately, the only bar for 50 miles subsequently closed and is now for sale. The
Golden Club, in Austin, Nevada, still stood but had a closed sign in the window. The US Navy wiped the
Frenchman Bar on US 50 in Nevada off the map. The sign for Maxi’s in Salt Wells, Nevada, still stands;
but the building burned to the ground. Read about Heat-Moon’s visit there, and you understand that
things often got hot in that establishment. The Oil City Saloon, in Shelby, Montana, was still open when I
passed through; but it had moved to a building a block farther west. Michel’s Bar that Heat-Moon visited
in Bagley, Minnesota, is gone – just an empty lot. But across the street, the Main Street Tavern has filled
the void. The Crow’s Nest, in Harbor Beach, Michigan, is now the Harbor Light Bar. The painting of the
blond, scantily clad, Indian maiden no longer hangs above the bar; but they do have good hamburgers.