48 Hours in the Gateway City

Our first experience with St. Louis comes by accident. On our way to the hotel, the GPS takes us the wrong direction and we end up in a residential neighborhood south of Downtown. The homes are all made of red brick and uniform in shape with front steps leading to the sidewalk. It looks like a scene from Archie Bunker. A man sits outside his door and reads a newspaper. I wish to get out and explore this new world I have briefly entered, but can't. Within five minutes we have corrected our route and are back on Interstate 44 toward our hotel.
 
We lodge in the area of Laclede's Landing. Our balcony on the third level sits nose-to-nose with a double-decker conduit of traffic. To say the least, it is very noisy. Yet our view extends beyond the din, toward the skyscrapers of Downtown and the stadium for the St. Louis Rams.
 

Flooding on the Mississippi River from Martin Luther King Bridge.

We waste little time and return to the streets for exploration. Near our hotel is the Martin Luther King Bridge. It will soon be under construction and is currently closed to vehicles. We slip past a concrete barricade and walk onto the bridge. We find ourselves looking down over the Mississippi River. Other than a group of people in the distance, we are the only humans on the bridge.
 
The river is well above flood-stage, with an entire street completely submerged in the slow-moving water—street signs poking above the surface. The St. Louis skyline is inescapable. The Gateway Arch and skyscrapers form a perfect silhouette. The overhead steel beams give the bridge a picturesque appeal. Jenelle comments that she would love to do a bridle-shoot here. We watch a train that appears to be at least a mile long creep along the edge of the river and under the bridge and through a small tunnel.
 
After the bridge we walk back toward Downtown and manage to cross the barriers of traffic. Skyscrapers surround us. In spite of all the buildings, I feel like there isn't much to see. No stores, no shops, no places to eat unless it is upper-end. A lot of nothing. At least that is how it seems.
 

Within minutes we begin seeing groups of people wearing Cardinals jerseys walking in our direction. They appear sullen. Soon, the entire sidewalk is flooded with Cardinals fans. Busch Stadium is just up the street and the game must have just gotten out. From a parking garage above, an antagonistic man yells down, “You guys can't even win a game!” Everyone ignores him and continues to walk.
 
We know that many will soon be looking for a place to eat. We make a split-second decision to find a place before lines get out of control. We choose Hamburger Mary's, an eatery on Washington Avenue. We walk in just before 7 pm and can tell that some sort of show is about to begin. They seat us in a section away from the stage where we can watch the show on a screen and perhaps catch glimpses through the bar. In the end, I am glad we don't have a front-row seat. The spectacle ends up being a drag show, with men dressed up as women and showing their moves for tips.
 
Aside from the hedonistic vibe of the restaurant, my hamburger is very good, although overpriced. On our way out, we make sure that none of the drag queens are in our way.
 
We stop at a small grocery store to buy food for breakfast. The prices are more in line with that of a gas station. By now, it is dark and it feels as though the thugs are coming out. Things are getting a bit sketchy. I can't help but to remember that St. Louis is the homicide capital of the United States. Whiffs of marijuana fill the air. Everyone, aside from us, is buying smokes or alcohol. We feel an urgency to get back to our room.
 

Old Courthouse from the Gateway Arch.

The following morning is our best day of weather in Missouri. The sun is out and skies are blue.
 
Our first stop is the Gateway Arch. You can't help but to be mesmerized by this gigantic structure. At 630 feet high, it is the tallest man-made monument in the Western Hemisphere. It seems to be ubiquitous. At every new turn there is a new perspective.
 
We spend about an hour near the arch, just admiring it's majesty and finding new angles for photography. You can pay money and take a ride to the top, but we have neither the time nor budget.
 
The arch was completed in 1965 and meant to memorialize St. Louis's history as the gateway to the Western frontier. It is hard to believe that this city was once the border of the wilderness, with terra incognita beyond its limits. It is the city from which Lewis and Clark set out on their epic exploratory mission.
 

Nearby is the Basilica of Saint Louis, also known as the Old Cathedral. Because of it's historical significance, it was allowed to remain standing while the rest of the buildings in the area were demolished with the construction of the arch.
 
We visit the basilica and then the Old Courthouse, which is in perfect alignment with the arch. The courthouse is free and is famous for being the setting of the Dred Scott case before it went to the United States Supreme Court. The building is similar in appearance to the United States Capitol Building. It's dome is modeled after St. Peters Basilica in Vatican City.
 

Basilica of St. Louis.

The Old Courthouse was home to the Dred Scott Case before it went to the Supreme Court.

St. Louis is a beautiful city, with ample parks and statues. The trees are in bloom during our visit. We manage to find a bite to eat, then make our way toward Busch Stadium to root, root, root for the home team!
 
Our seats on the third balcony provide a panoramic view of the city's skyline. I think we are the only people in the stadium without some sort of Cardinals memorabilia (and I'm not going to pay $89 for a hoodie!).
 

We sit next to a father and his two boys. The sibling next to me (about 12-years old) is the most energetic of the two and never shies away from asking questions. At least twenty times, from the bottom of his lungs, he tries to begin a chant: “Let's go Cardinals, let's go!! [Clap, clap.] Let's go Cardinal's, let's go!!! [Clap, clap.]” Only a couple times does anyone join in. “What's wrong with everybody today?” he complains.
 
He asks where we are from, but has no idea where Utah is located. Then he asks, “But you ARE a Cardinals fan, aren't you?” When I tell him I am not a Cardinals fan, he becomes bewildered, wondering how a person like me could exist in the world. But then I tell him that neither am I a Padres fan, but hope that the Cardinals will win, since they are the home team. He is reassured by that.
 
In the end, the Cardinals lose. They fall apart in the top of the eighth inning.
 

Stan "The Man" Musial.

After the game we stop for pictures at the entrance of the stadium with a statue of Stan “The Man” Musial. For the next hour we wander the streets, not finding much to do, but enjoying the beauty of the city. About this time a St. Louis Blues hockey game gets out, and suddenly we find that we are “the only ones in town” without a Blues jersey.
 
We take the Metrolink back to Laclede's Landing and find a place to eat called the Old Spaghetti Factory. Our wait time is one hour. Jenelle is worn out so she kicks back in the restaurant while I wander about the city on foot.
 

The Old Spaghetti Factory in the area of Laclede's Landing.

Not only is there a Cardinals and Blues game in town today, Comic Con is here also. I also learn that in St. Louis it is only optional for a car to stop at a red light. Many cars brazenly push their way through traffic, to the point I am a little scared to cross the street.
 
Back at the restaurant I enjoy a plate of spaghetti. Although once again overpriced, our meal is very good and service is excellent. We return to our hotel with a final night of rest in St. Louis.
 

The next morning we check out of our hotel and immediately drive across the Mississippi into Illinois. I have long been fascinated with Native American history and culture and was pleasantly surprised when I learned that the remains of an ancient city of the Mississippi mound-builders was just five miles away.
 
Cahokia was once the largest city in America north of Mexico. Collapse came before the arrival of Europeans and the reason largely remains a mystery. Today, several of their man-made mounds still exist, including the largest, Monks Mound. Archeologists speculate that homes and temples of the leaders were built upon these heaps of earth. Some of the smaller ones are burial mounds. With such a small percentage of them having been excavated, most of what lies underneath remains a mystery.
 
Admission to the grounds and museum are free. One could spend a full day wandering the extensive trail system. In addition to several mounds, there are groves of trees, swamps and whitetail deer. We only have a couple hours to spare, so we barely scratch the surface.
 

Monks Mound is the largest mound at Cahokia.

St. Louis skyline from Monks Mound.

Back on the Missouri side of the river, our time is winding down. As stated earlier, I really hoped to see what life is like in St. Louis beyond the traps of tourism. With this pursuit in mind, we take an exit off I-70 into Old North St. Louis.
 
I feel like we have just entered the hood. I find my red-brick buildings. Most of them are tall and skinny. Several are vacant and partially destroyed by fire. As a geographical reminder, our location is not too far from Ferguson, Missouri, the site of riots in 2014 resulting from the shooting of Michael Brown by a white police officer.
 
I pull over a couple of times to take pictures. Nearby a man of color has a verbal altercation with his girlfriend in an alleyway. Behind me a truck speeds through a stop sign. Jenelle feels unsafe and stays in the car.
 
Around the corner is the beautiful Most Holy Trinity Catholic Church. It looks out of place in this neighborhood. It makes me wonder the nature of the neighborhood at the time of it's construction.
 

Home in Old North St. Louis.

Most Holy Trinity Catholic Church, as seen from Mallinckrodt Street.

Our next stop (on the way to the airport) is the Calvary Cemetery. I could spend hours here. This graveyard is gigantic and contains some of the most important burials in the city. The blooming trees and rolling slopes make for a beautiful setting.
 
General William Sherman and Dred Scott are buried here and we visit both of their graves. It is interesting that pennies are placed on Dred Scott's grave, supposedly honoring Lincoln as the great emancipator.
 

Calvary Cemetery in St. Louis.

Near the end of our rope of time, we now look for a place to eat before going to the airport. We drive down West Flourissant Avenue and into the boundaries of Jennings (which, in turn, borders Ferguson).
 
What we find is Lee's Famous Fried Chicken. When we enter, we are the only whites inside. Everyone else is as black as ebony. But there is a different feel to this. I quickly notice that everyone here is dressed in their Sunday best, the men in suits and vests, and ladies in a dress, pearls and lipstick—some with a wide hat for shade. We hear them talking about singing in the choir. They have just got out of church. The girl behind the counter must be in her early twenties and has smooth skin and hair made into a hundred tight braids.
 
Rather than feeling like I am in the hood, I feel as if I have just stepped inside a room with Aunt Chloe and Uncle Tom, “whose truly African features [are] characterized by an expression of grave and steady good sense, united with much kindness and benevolence.”
 

Fried liver at Lee's Famous Fried Chicken.

For me, this is one of the most pleasant surprises of our trip. I find myself in their world, well off the beaten path.
 
Jenelle orders chicken strips, which I will admit are better than KFC. As for me, I order fried liver and Cajun rice. It isn't too bad either. ♠