Tag: roadside attractions

Gallup, New Mexico: The Heartbeat of Native American Culture Picture of the Month - Gallup, New Mexico

Arrowhead Lodge sign showcasing classic Route 66 Americana
The Retro Charm of The Arrowhead Lodge sign in Gallup—The sign features retro typography and design typical of historic Route 66.

Queen Anne and I recently traveled to Gallup, New Mexico, to film some b-roll footage of Route 66 across Arizona. We wanted to traverse the Grand Canyon State in a single day, so we spent the night in neighboring New Mexico to get those video clips and finish our latest Route 66 video. I’m excited to announce that the video has just been released on YouTube—be sure to check it out here.

Although we’ve driven through Gallup before, we decided to stick around and see what all the fuss was about. Spoiler alert: it’s more than just a pit stop for refueling the car and our caffeine levels. We discovered it’s much more than just a stop along the Mother Road. Gallup is a vibrant hub of Native American culture and history, and I think it would make an excellent topic for one of my monthly projects. I look forward to returning.

Founding and Early Development

Gallup, New Mexico, was established in 1881 as a headquarters for the southern transcontinental rail route by the Atlantic and Pacific Railroad, which later became part of the Burlington Northern Santa Fe Railroad. The town was named after David L. Gallup, a paymaster for the railroad. When workers went to collect their pay, they would say they were “going to Gallup,” which led to the town’s name. Imagine that: a city named after a guy who handed out paychecks. If only my old boss had been so popular—’Jim’s Paycheck Town’ does have a certain ring, though.

Gallup's deserted motel sign, a relic of Route 66 history
Gallup’s Deserted Motel: A Sign of Times Gone By – An old motel sign in Gallup, New Mexico, capturing the essence of deserted Americana.

Strategic Location and Growth

Gallup’s strategic location at the crossroads of several major rail lines and highways contributed to its growth as a trade and transportation hub. It became an essential center for the coal, timber, and livestock industries, which fueled its economy in the early years. Rich mineral deposits in the region also attracted various settlers and businesses. Coal, timber, livestock—Gallup had it all! It was the Amazon Prime of the 19th century.

Gallup’s proximity to the Navajo, Zuni, and Hopi reservations made it a significant trading post for Native American crafts and goods. This connection to Native American culture has been a defining characteristic of Gallup, earning it the nickname “Indian Capital of the World.” This diverse cultural heritage is vital to the town’s identity and economy.

Historical Events

One of the most impactful events in Gallup’s history was its major stop on Route 66, the iconic highway connecting Chicago to Los Angeles. This brought a steady flow of travelers and tourists through the town, further boosting its economic and cultural significance. The El Rancho Hotel hosted so many Hollywood stars that I half expected to see John Wayne himself checking in at the front desk. I had my autograph book ready, just in case.

Today, Gallup is known for its vibrant downtown, cultural events such as the Gallup Inter-Tribal Indian Ceremonial, and its decadent array of murals and historical markers celebrating its diverse heritage. The town remains a vital link between various cultures and continues to honor its historical roots by preserving and celebrating its unique past.

Gallup’s Role in Preserving and Promoting Native American Culture:
Gallup, often called the “Indian Capital of the World,” is crucial in preserving and promoting Native American culture. The town’s proximity to Navajo, Zuni, and Hopi reservations makes it a central hub for Native American arts, crafts, and traditions. Gallup’s cultural landscape is rich with influences from these tribes, visible in the town’s art, architecture, and daily life.

Vintage Blue Spruce Lodge sign in Gallup, New Mexico on Route 66
Blue Spruce Lodge: Retro Signage in Gallup—The iconic Blue Spruce Lodge sign in Gallup, New Mexico, is a reminder of the town’s historic past.

The annual Gallup Inter-Tribal Indian Ceremonial is a significant event that showcases Native American traditions, including dances, parades, and crafts. This event attracts visitors from around the world and helps promote the cultural heritage of the local tribes. Additionally, Gallup is home to several museums and cultural centers celebrating Native American history and contributions, further solidifying its role as a cultural preservationist. The Gallup Inter-Tribal Indian Ceremonial is a bigger deal than Anne’s annual shoe sale pilgrimage—and trust me, that’s saying something.

I know that there are many more Gallup stories to be told, and since its elevation is higher than Phoenix’s, we may turn it into an escape in the following summer or two. If we pique your curiosity with this month’s Route 66 photos, I invite you to explore larger versions of this month’s images on my New Work portfolio and the detailed pieces I’ve posted on Fine Art America. These photos will be displayed there for three months before being rotated.

Good Eats

Vintage neon sign of Jerry's Cafe in Gallup
Neon Nights: Jerry’s Cafe Sign on Route 66 – Gallup’s Jerry’s Cafe is known for its delicious Mexican-American food and classic neon signage.

As is our custom, we checked Trip Advisor for a nice dinner place. As you’re all aware, that’s the only way I can get Her Majesty into the car—as a repayment for “Gallup! You want me to go to Gallup with you?” At the top of the list was Jerry’s Cafe. It’s located near the municipality buildings downtown, a few blocks south of the railroad tracks.

Jerry’s is a no-frills dive with linoleum floors, a small counter along the left wall, a half-dozen tables in the center, and as many booths lining the right wall. The fare is American and Mexican dishes, and don’t even think of wishing for a beer or Margarita because they don’t have a liquor license. Since the place is so tiny and located in the business district, there’s usually a long line of locals trying to get in.

When we drove into town, I immediately spotted several closed motels that I wanted to photograph in the evening light. I suggested to the Queen that we get an early dinner and shoot our way back to the motel afterward. “Whatever,” was her reply. “When we got to Jerry’s, I couldn’t believe our luck—no line at 4 PM! It was as if the stars had aligned, or more likely, everyone else was still at work.

So, the place is a dive; they don’t serve alcohol, and it’s crowded. I was in heaven. Anne, not so much. There must be a reason to eat here—the food. Mine was so good that I don’t even remember what Anne ordered. They offer specials that are variations of what we call in Arizona a Navajo Taco, but they called them Stuffed Sopaipillas. Mine was stuffed with guacamole, carnitas, and jalapenos—not those sissy jalapenos from Texas, Arizona, and California. This is New Mexico, and these were proper Hatch Jalapenos, which bite back. I knew I was in trouble when this came out of the kitchen. The Sopaipilla was bigger than my head, and its plate was barely big enough to contain it. It was a golden color with red and green chili smothering the top. Each bite contained a mouthful of cool guac, contrasting the zing of peppers and the crunchy bits of pork within the deep-fried tortilla. The other customers kept giggling and pointing at me because I kept making Homer Simpson noises, but I didn’t care. It was the best Chimichanga I’ve ever had, and I would happily embarrass myself again for another bite. This dish was good enough to change Gallup from a gas stop to a destination. I highly recommend it.

Vintage Red Crown Gas Pumps: Oatman’s Route 66 Treasures Pictrure of the Week - Oatman, Arizona

Vintage Red Crown gas pumps in Oatman, Arizona, along the famed Route 66, evoking the golden era of American road travel.
Time-Standing Still: Vintage Gas Pumps of Oatman – Step back in time with these meticulously preserved ‘Red Crown’ gasoline pumps, a vibrant reminder of Route 66’s golden era, now standing proudly outside Oatman’s antique store — a treasure trove awaiting its next collector.

Let’s talk about a little thing called ROI, or return on investment. In layperson’s terms, it’s like this: if your piggy bank’s diet consists more of withdrawals than deposits, it’s time to put that cash-chewing pastime on a strict no-spend regimen. It’s a handy rule of thumb for deciding whether that avocado toast obsession is a splurge too far and for the bigwigs running the corporate circus. They don’t just steer the company ship; they’re the jugglers, tightrope walkers, and lion tamers tasked with keeping the ROI roaring so the shareholders don’t start looking for a tamer’s head to put in the lion’s mouth.

In the harsh and unforgiving world of mining towns like Oatman, hitting the ROI redline means ‘game over’ for the local economy. The investors pack up their checkbooks, the mines shutter faster than a camera at a ghost sighting, and the workers scatter like tumbleweeds in a dust storm. The town’s pulse slows, and those left behind are like the band on the Titanic—playing on bravely, knowing the finale is nigh.

The tale of Oatman follows a script as predictable as the instructions on a shampoo bottle—minus the rejuvenating wash. It’s a cycle as old as time: boom, bust, and echo. The brightest stars eventually fizzle out, and Oatman’s star, once a beacon of the Gold Rush, was no exception. And just like a one-two punch in a heavyweight bout, Oatman’s knockout came swiftly. First, the mines dried up, and then Route 66 got a face-lift that sidestepped the town altogether. Modern progress, they said, but for Oatman, it was more like a step into obscurity.

The new road followed the railroad’s less adventurous path, leaving Oatman off the beaten path and out of the family vacation route. From the Clampetts to the Griswolds, no one was clamoring to visit an old shanty town at that time—and the Department of Transportation—forgot. Oatman became the town overlooking Mohave Valley with a ‘Do Not Disturb’ sign hung on its door.

As the rest of the world hurtled forward into the mid-20th century, Oatman seemed to hit the pause button. The once frenetic streets, echoing with the din of prosperity, fell silent, leaving only the whispering desert winds to tell their tales. For the few who chose to stay, life became a study of survival and simplicity. Oatman’s dwindling population, a patchwork of tenacious old-timers and resourceful souls, found a way to eke out a living from the sparse offerings of a town that had given its all to the golden days of yore.

The rustic sign of Judy's Saloon and Pool Hall under a wall-mounted American flag on the historic Main Street of Oatman, Arizona.
Judy’s Saloon: Echoes of Oatman’s Vibrant Past – Under Oatman’s azure skies, the worn sign of Judy’s Saloon points the way, juxtaposed with a rustic American flag, to a place where the spirit of the West is not just remembered but still lives on.

The rhythm of life here was no longer dictated by the pulsing promise of gold but by the sun’s arc across the sky. The remaining residents turned to the land, coaxing modest gardens from the arid soil, trading with neighbors, and gathering at Judy’s Saloon for some, reliving the glory days in stories told and retold like cherished family heirlooms. They adapted, repurposing old mining tools for mundane tasks and transforming abandoned structures into homes and makeshift businesses that catered to the occasional traveler, lost or adventurous enough to stray from the new Route 66.

In this era, Oatman’s heartbeat was a subtle one, felt rather than heard, in the stoic persistence of its people and the silent dignity of its weathered buildings. The community’s fabric was tightly knit, each person a thread bound to the other by shared history and collective tenacity. Life in Oatman wasn’t about thriving; it was about enduring, about preserving the essence of a town too proud to fade away.

The gasoline pumps featured in this week’s picture tell a story that’s as much about progress as it is about preservation. Red Crown gas, a blend marketed by Standard Oil (now Chevron), was the fuel of choice during the era these pumps would have served. Picture this: classic cars now wear the badge of ‘vintage’ had a dial for drivers to adjust the timing advance. A tank full of high-octane Red Crown meant more zip without the dreaded engine knock. Nowadays, that’s a job delegated to the computers in our cars.

But take a closer look at these gravity-feed pumps. Their pristine condition raises a question—have they stood the test of time, or are they beautifully restored pieces of history? It’s a bit of a mystery, much like the stories they hold. And for my eagle-eyed followers, yes, you’ve already noticed the white roof of the Diner Car peeking out on the left.

I hope you enjoyed this stroll down the quieter lanes of Oatman’s history, but don’t pack away your walking shoes just yet. Next week, we’re dusting off the fairy tale books for Oatman’s own Cinderella story—a happy ending sure to sparkle. If your curiosity about those Red Crown pumps is ticking like a Geiger counter in a gold mine, here’s your treasure map: links to my web page < Jim’s Site> and the Fine Art America page <FAA Link>. And hey, if you find yourself meandering through Oatman in the next few months, pop into that antique store and snoop around for the price tag on those pumps. Don’t forget to spill the beans in the comments below—I think they’d make a lovely gate for the end of my driveway.

Till our next adventure, keep your spirits high and your humor dry.
jw

Techniques: Mastering the Art of Symmetrical Composition

This week’s photo ventures into symmetrical composition, a method that, admittedly, I usually give a wide berth. Symmetry in photography is all about balance, akin to placing two candles at either end of a mantle for that classic, mirror-image elegance. But who says rules can’t be bent for a bit of creative flair?

Regarding the Red Crown gas pumps, symmetry was the starting point, not the destination. I aimed to capture both pumps in a single frame, spaced evenly from the frame’s edges to create a sense of balance. However, I opted for a slight twist rather than a straight-on, textbook symmetric shot. By shifting my position to the right, the pumps became natural frames for the ‘Antiques’ sign in the background, adding layers and depth to the image. It’s like setting those candles at different heights on the mantle; it catches the eye, creates tension, and makes you look twice.

The result? A photo that adheres to symmetry principles while stepping out of the conventional bounds, making for a more intriguing and dynamic composition. Sometimes, bending the rules just a little can lead to a more compelling story being told through the lens. What’s your take on it? Traditional symmetry or a dash of asymmetrical intrigue?