My knowledge of the Midwest is minimal. My last cross-country trip was in 1996. The voyage in a 1954 Studebaker avoided cities of the heartland. I’ve flown over the plains several times on my way to LA. Eight miles high is too distant to discern the changes wrought to these urban centers, however this week my Scottish friend and I have been driving through places like Joliet, St. Louis, Kansas City, and Peoria.
Peoria once represented the most American of cities and vaudeville tested their acts in this town guided by the theatrical query “Will it play in Peoria?”
Vaudeville disappeared in the 1950s and the industries powering Peoria; Hiram Walker whiskey, Caterpillar, and Pabst Blue Ribbon beer left Illinois for cheaper labor markets, so that to a motorist driving through the industrial wasteland realizes that the last 40 years of military adventurism has denuded the core of America. Cities are voidvilles. No life after 5pm. No people on the street. They have lost their raison d’etre. I was shocked by these desolate vistas and at the same time enthralled by the beauty.
“Nothing plays Peoria anymore.”
Bring the troops home.