Billy Connolly's Route 66_ The Big Yin on the Ultimate American Road Trip - Billy Connolly [72]
I love the idea of millions of people driving down Route 66 over the years, glancing across at the park, and saying, ‘What the heck? Was that a whale?’ And I was thrilled that the whale was probably having the same effect on today’s passers-by, all thanks to the efforts and energy of a group of community-minded locals. The whale is nothing but a whole bunch of fun, which is what’s so great about it.
But that’s not what tickled me most about this wee park. Hugh also made a toilet block to serve his customers. With no architectural training, he based his design on some tribal huts he’d seen in Africa. But instead of making the toilet block from mud, he fashioned it from concrete. And, boy, has it stood the test of time. The building looks just like an African village hut, but it’s as solid as a rock. Blaine told me that whenever tornadoes rip through this part of Oklahoma, which they do throughout April and May, he locks up his caravan beside the lake and barricades himself in the toilet. It’s the only tornado-proof loo I’ve ever seen. I love the idea that Blaine shelters in there while the tornado passes by. What a tribute to his dad’s skill. I was terribly impressed by it.
Incidentally, the section of Route 66 that runs through Catoosa is called the Will Rogers Memorial Highway. I’m a huge fan of Will Rogers – a cowboy, comedian, social commentator, vaudeville performer and actor who was born to a Cherokee family in Oklahoma and became known as Oklahoma’s favourite son – so I was tickled that the road had adopted his name. He was a phenomenal talent, first appearing in vaudeville shortly before the First World War. I’ve seen films of him doing his lasso act from around that period and it’s quite breathtaking. But he was also a philosopher, the type that I’d call country-wise rather than street-wise. He travelled around the world three times, made seventy-one movies (silent and talkies), wrote more than four thousand nationally syndicated newspaper columns, and became a world-famous figure. By the mid-1930s, the American public adored him. He was considered the leading political wit of the age and was the top-paid Hollywood movie star.
After the First World War, there had been plans to march the returning troops past the White House in Washington. Rows of planked seating (called bleachers in America) were erected, which sparked huge arguments over who should get the best seats for the victory parade. Someone asked Will what he thought of all the fuss about the seating arrangements.
‘If you really appreciate what the soldiers did, let them sit in the seats and we’ll march past,’ he said.
What a guy, eh? Wasn’t that a splendid idea? That was Will Rogers all over. I once went to his house in Los Angeles and was really impressed. He made good use of his fame, serving as a goodwill ambassador to Mexico and briefly as Mayor of Beverly Hills. In print and on radio he poked fun at gangsters, prohibition, politicians, government policies and various other controversial topics but in a folksy, down-to-earth way that was readily appreciated and offended no one. ‘Lord, the money we spend on government,’ he said of Franklin Roosevelt’s administration, of which he was a fervent supporter. ‘And it’s not one bit better than the government we got for one-third of the money twenty years ago.’
That kind of thinking was born in Oklahoma, and I can only urge you to come and experience this part of the world for yourself. I’ve not known friendliness and hospitality like it anywhere else, and I guarantee you’ll experience it, too.
From Catoosa, I had a long ride ahead of me, and another storm was brewing. The weather had been sensational for the previous few days, and I’d hoped to be wearing fewer clothes as I continued to head southwest. But I wasn’t so sure as I set off down the road towards Oklahoma City.
Before the state capital, though, I had one more stop to make. I was going to meet an oil baron.
Now, whenever I think