Billy Connolly's Route 66_ The Big Yin on the Ultimate American Road Trip - Billy Connolly [17]
So, if you ever get the chance, have a look at the views of Chicago that are reflected in ‘The Bean’. There’s no point to it, but just go and see if it has the same effect on you as it has on everyone else. I bet it does.
A short walk from ‘The Bean’ is something else that would blow anyone away. Called the ‘Crown Fountain’ and designed by the Spanish artist Jaume Plensa, it’s a pair of 50-foot-tall glass towers that display video images of a thousand Chicago residents in what looks like a big picture frame. I won’t even pretend to know how they superimposed the images on to the 50-foot-high glass towers, but it’s fascinating to watch as the giant faces smile for a few minutes, then pucker their lips all kissy-kissy while pipes send out large streams of water, giving the illusion that the water is spouting from their mouths. Kids absolutely love it, me included.
Of course, there’s always uproar when a government or a council spends public money on something like this, as if art wasn’t worth the effort of spending money. But then a government will go and spend billions on nuclear missiles and hardly anybody lets out a squeak. What’s wrong with the world? You get an atomic submarine that’s good for nothing but maiming and killing, and people almost applaud the thing when it comes into harbour. But spend a few dollars on a beautiful work of art and people are outraged. ‘The Bean’, the ‘Crown Fountain’ and the other parts of Millennium Park are a joy, yet people always moan about how much it all costs. The park is a lovely place to be, dynamic and relaxing at the same time. It’s great. And you know what? I think it’s a snip at $475 million.
From the park, it’s a very short hop, skip and jump across Michigan Avenue to the original start of Route 66 at the corner of Jackson Boulevard. It’s traditional for Route 66 travellers to have their final meal in Chicago and their first on Route 66 at Lou Mitchell’s, which has been at 555 West Jackson Boulevard since 1923. It’s a nice enough place that does an all-day breakfast and very good Danish pastries, but I had an appointment to keep around the corner.
Although the junction of Jackson and Michigan was the original starting point in 1926, it’s no longer the place where most people begin their journey. There are two reasons for this. First, in 1933, after the World Fair freed up some land to create Grant Park, the start was moved a few blocks to the east – to Lakeside Drive on the edge of Lake Michigan. Then, in 1955, the City of Chicago turned Jackson Boulevard into an eastbound one-way street, making it impossible to head west on the original Route 66. As a result, the start was moved a block north to Adams Street, another one-way street, but going in the opposite direction.
If all of that sounds complicated, it’s nothing in comparison to what happened to the rest of Route 66. Throughout its history, the Mother Road was more akin to a meandering river than a fixed road: its source and destination remained constant, but its route frequently changed to suit local circumstances. So shifting the start from Jackson to Adams is a very apt harbinger of what will follow in the miles ahead.
I arrived on Adams Street without my trike, as I still wasn’t quite ready to begin. First, we had to shoot some publicity stills beneath a sign that marked the start of Route 66. I’ve never been a big fan of having my picture taken. To me, it’s as bad as going to the dentist, a kind of root-canal vibe. The photographers are usually really nice guys, but I can’t help feeling – when I’m doing something with my face, my eyes, or the angle of my head – that the snapper is thinking,