Saint Joseph (Leaving)
It was hot and muggy, just a prelude of what was to come. I decided I wanted to take a picture of myself in front of a Saint Joseph sign of some kind. Rather than get right back on the dreaded interstate, I headed towards the strip malls in the other direction. I found a business district highway and followed it north past the dilapidate Pony Express Hotel, Brown Buns Tanning Salon, Taco John's and Captain D's. The humidity reminded me of my days stationed in Mayport, Florida and I had a hankering for some good southern barbeque. That is one thing I really missed from those days. You would have a hard time finding a taco fast food place around Jacksonville, but there was a barbeque with a drive up window on every corner with all the ribs, chicken, pork, and beef you could eat served with slaw and beans on the side.
Past the strip malls I came to a hilly residential area with well manicured lawns and well maintained houses. In the middle of this area on the other side of the street was a run down building with a sign out front labeled "Smokin Joe's BarBQ" I could not miss with that. I made a U-Turn in front of John Glenn Elementary School and headed for Smokin Joe's. It was 11:30 am, but it was hard to tell if the place was open. No Open sign, no hours posted on the door. I parked on what seemed to be at least a 10% grade parking lot and set my parking brake.
I walked into the establishment filled with the traditional red and white checkered tablecloths, walls filled with highway signs and advertisements from the past, and a young lady wrapping napkins around silverware. The man behid the counter was obviously the manager or owner the way he yelled at the two chefs through a open window behind him. I ordered the pork sandwhich which came with chips and a pickle. I must havee just missed the rush hour because no other customers arrived while I was there. The food was great and I enjoyed eating a meal in peace for a change. By the way I got my picture in front of a one mile to St Joseph Sign just before I arrived at Smokin Joe's.
My plan was still to head north on the Interstate through Iowa to somewhere in Minnesota. As I got on the Interstate I said to myself that I just couldn't leave Saint Joseph without finding out what it was all about. I got off at the nearest exit and headed soth back to Saint Joseph. I turned west on to the highway I came in on the night before. As luck would have it, the highway lead to the historic distric of the town and the Missouri River (which I had not realized I had crossed the night before).
I exited to find a city of decaying brick buildings from three to thirty stories tall. I found the Pony Express park right across from the Pony Express Museum. I did not want to spend the $4 to tour the stables but I thanked the Willie Nelson looking manager of the museum anyway. The park had a lot of information on the town. Joseph Robidoux named it for his namesake when he worked for a fur trading company there, Lewis and Clark stopped there twice and met Robidoux, it was a prime jumping off point fot the Oregon and California trails and for the gold rush in 49 and it was the start of the first leg of the Pony Express. A few blocks away was the home of Jesse James and the spot where he was killed. I did not spend the $2 to tour the house and see the bullet hole. I next went down to Riv erside park where I got to see the muddy Missouri river underneath a slew of highway overpasses and bridges. The park was deserted. A Riverboat named The Spirit of Saint Joseph was moored to the dock within a few hundred feet of St. Joe's casino. There was one piece of graffiti on the steps it simply said "ConQwest" which I thought could be funny on a number of different levels.
I was satisfied. I felt like I had an understanding of this town and was ready to move on. Before I left the park I scanned my maps one more time looking for inspiration. There was nothing I wanted to see between there and Minnesota. I found my inspiration on the other side of the state of Missouri and quickly changed my plans. St. Joseph is on the western border of Missiouri on the eastern border almost straight across the state was the boyhood home of Mark Twain, Hannibal, Missouri.
Mark Twain was the second author I ever read seriously, just after Charles Dickens in my mid-twenties. I always loved the way he put so much sarcasm and wit into his writing. I had to make the trip across the state to see one of my heroes.