Kansas City — St. Louis — Chicago
April 2006
The Baseball Posse hit the road for a three–city raid of the Bible Belt.We converged on MCI from LAX, SAN and NYC. Jay, Irene and I met on the connecting flight in Dallas, first time we’ve ever shared a flight.
Our first stop was the Truman Presidential Museum and Library in Independence, MO. President Harry S. Truman is buried here, next to his wife, Bess.
What comes through here are the humanity and humility of the man, a simple, decent man who never expected to deal with the Cold War, Korea and the decision to use the atomic bomb.
There’s a replica of the Oval Office, exactly as it was when Truman worked in it. The house he lived in is about a mile’s walk from the museum, a walk he made daily to come to work here.
We crossed briefly into Kansas to raid a pa’s, a gigantic hunting and fishing emporium. We’ve been in smaller towns than this.
Its features include a park–sized display of mule deer shot by various hunters, and giant walk–through aquariums with catfish the size of German Shepherds.
Back in KC, we ate barbecue three straight days. Great stuff, but what do they have against veggies around here?
Fiorella’s Jack Stack is where the locals go, and it was the best. Arthur Bryant’s, which put Kansas City BBQ on the world map, isn’t far behind.
The highlight of our stay – indeed, of the entire trip – was the Negro Leagues Baseball Museum in the 18th & Vine Historic District, in a building it shares with the American Jazz Museum.
The jazz museum was a bit weak, but the NLBM more than made up for it. You learn about Negro teams and leagues you never knew existed. You learn that the first night game in professional baseball history was played in the Negro leagues.
The greatest of all was our fleeting audience with the NLBM’s living icon — Buck O’Neil.
If the 18th & Vine District was the high point of our stay in KCMO, the low point was surely the game at Kauffman Stadium between the Minnesota Twins and the KC Royals. Drizzly and about five ticks above freezing rain.
We should have known what was up when one of the locals made the rounds from table to table in Arthur Bryant’s, trying to dump his game tickets — and got no takers. We went, anyway.
Ushers showed you to your seat, then dried it with chamois. So cold that your unprotected fingers ached, and then actually felt like they were burning.
We fled after seven innings.
Next stop: St. Louis!
We stayed in St. Charles — a suburb of St. Louis, Missouri’s original state capitol and before Napoleon agreed to the Louisiana Purchase, a French colonial outpost.
Historic St. Charles is lots of cobblestone streets and buildings from the early 1800s, when everything west of the Missouri River here was a vast unknown to the white American settlers. There also is a lovely little tree–shaded wal along the Missouri River.
Nearby is a massive – and I do mean massive – gambling den, the Ameristar Casino, an awful thing to do to a beautiful river.
Walt vectored us to a microbrewery called Schlafly Brewery and Tap Room. Good food, good beer and friendly staff. Umpteen different menu items featuring bison – including bison nachos. Say what?
The Gateway Arch. Simply elegant or elegantly simple? So beautiful in any light from any angle that it’s virtually impossible to take a bad shot of it.
We cram ourselves into the capsule–like railcar that takes us to the very top. Low ceiling. Very low. If Walt had stood on his tiptoes, he head might have poked through the top of the arch!
Nearby is the old courthouse where a slave named Dred Scott argued in 1846 – before a judiciary packed with Southerners – that he had a right to be free. What a concept. He lost. What a surprise.
Next up: the sprawling Anheuser–Busch brewery. The sweet smell of yeast and barley fills even the Clydesdales stables.
After the tour, two free samples of A–B beers, many of which aren’t sold near you. Ever seen Bare Knuckle Stout or Spring Heat Spiced Wheat?
Lunch was at the Crown Candy Kitchen. A classic candy store and soda fountain.
Hot dogs are serious here and theirs are among the best. One of their chocolate malts — mixed the old–fashioned way in an aluminum can — is big enough for two people. Not your basic drive–through shake out of the machine. The real deal, old school malts.
The place is a neighborhood icon, but the neighborhood itself is all but abandoned amid boarded up storefronts in a sea of weedy vacant lots.
Then it was Game Time.
Busch Stadium was a letdown. It’s not bad, but there is nothing to distinguish it from the rest of the new–old ballyards. The other problem is legroom. There is none. Even Jay complained.
Oh well, at least the game was good. The Cardinals won, and Jay got to see an ex–Angel, Jim Edmonds, hit a home run.
End of the line: Chicago!
Are you sure this town tawdles?
We were on the road at 5 a.m. to get from St. Louis to Wrigley Field in time for the game between the Milwaukee Brewers (what else would your team called be in Milwaukee?) and the Chicago Cubs.
We took the “el” train and the bus to the ballpark like true Cubs fans.
Wrigley is now my absolute favorite ballyard. Great dimensions, great sight lines, ample legroom and the best pizza I’ve ever had at a stadium. The Old Style–brand beer isn’t bad, either.
No fake rocks and cascading fountains, no giant Coke bottles or psychedelic scoreboards. Just a pure baseball experience.
Oh, and for the record: Cubs won! Cubs won! Greg Maddux stifled Prince Fielder and the Milwaukee Brewers, 6–2.
We hooked up with Joyce Garcia, one of Jay’s former journalism students and now a copy editor at the Chicago Tribune. We met at the Billy Goat Tavern, a Tribune hangout for generations, including that of the legendary Mike Royko.
Joyce also treated us to dinner at VTK, Vong’s Thai Kitchen. The Indian place she was looking for had folded. Lucky us, since VTK was fabulous. It gets its name from the owner, Jean–Georges Vongericthen. They also inform you that they are part of the Lettuce Entertain You group. Forgive the name; the food is really good.
Overall, it’s a lot like New York, but with friendlier people.
A ride on the “El” will show you much of the city, including the South Side, another desolate and largely empty urban landscape. The infamous Cabrini–Green housing project was here. Thank God, it’s now one of the vacant lots.
For our last night in Chicago, we met Joyce and her husband, Chris, at Gino’s East. Chris is an actuary and an avid cyclist who taught himself how to repair his own bikes. Big up’s, Chris!
As good as the food is at Gino’s East, the real talk of the place is the decor, which can only be described as "Early Tagger." Every nook and cranny of every wall there is covered with graffiti, which the management actually encourages. Saves on painting, I suppose.
Another successful baseball raid in the books. Next year, back to our Baja roots!