Gov. William J. Stratton, second from right, cuts the ribbon to open the four-lane Route 66 segment from Sherman to Lincoln, October 1953 (Courtesy State Journal-Register)
Wilford Kramer, chief editorial writer for the Illinois State Journal, saw problems with the post-World War II widening of Route 66 from two lanes to four. This is a reprint of “Upon Reflection,” Kramer’s regular editorial page column, printed on Sept. 27, 1946 and reprinted in a collection of Kramer’s work, also titled “Upon Reflection,” published in 1947. — Ed.
One doesn’t have to go many miles from home to get a fresh viewpoint and then return gladly to his own particular haunt to reflect upon the impressions gained while afield. We made such a trip to Chicago one weekend, driving up and back on U.S. 66, which is fast becoming one of the nation’s finest highways.
For years a death trap, the main artery of the Midwest will soon offer four-lane comfort and safety all the way from Chicago to Springfield. Even now two new lanes are virtually completed and afford a smooth and spacious road compared to the old narrow and bumpy route.
Great mounds of gravel are spotted along the freeway, and massive roadbreakers are at work pulverizing the old highway. The right-of-way for the additional lanes is apparent and is finished in many spots.
One invariably wonders where all the people are going on this busy highway, which is never free of man and goods in transit. A never-ending stream of cars bowls along in each direction. At the occasional crossroads, other shining metal beetles idle impatiently as they wait to join the swelling tide. Massive trailers, drawn by powerful tractor cabs, form an almost endless chain.
Wiford Kramer, 1947 (‘Upon Reflection’ book)
There has grown alongside the highway at strategic points a whole segment of society devoted to the maintenance of the great machines and the refreshment of their drivers. “Truck Stop” has become a familiar sign, and a cluster of freight wagons off the highway an ordinary sight.
The new highway has swung out in generous turns, while the old road ran through the center of every village and around sections of farmland. Many gas stations, eating places and taverns have found the pulsing life of the new highway too far from them for comfort.
In an attempt to attract drivers away from the smoothness of the road, small establishments have dressed themselves in the gaudiest of neon. Nevertheless, many have folded because of the tendency among drivers to avoid stops now that the journey is swift and pleasant.
In the march of progress it is inevitable that such ghostly enterprises should stand along the forgotten byroad of yesterday. In the general quickening of life’s pace we may hope for the opening of new frontiers which will lure men from faltering enterprises to new levels of activity.
The crossroads, as an American institution, is in for a good deal of modernization and consolidation. Whereas in the past, and the shifting present, service establishments have been strewn loosely along the highway, they will be forced by the nature of modern road construction and swift travel to gather at major intersections.
Today, highways avoid the towns, deigning only to throw off a condescending spur. Will the smaller cities and towns continue to dwindle in population and commerce because of this trend? That’s a moot point. There will always be a place for a number of farm service communities, dedicated to the needs and expressing the atmosphere of the people who live near to the land, but horizons are beckoning, and the convolutions of the average mind are apt to follow the dramatic sweep of the super-highway to larger cities. Some will not welcome this trend, but recognize it we must.
It would take until 1957 to finish the Route 66 widening project through Illinois. Route 66, which ran from Chicago to Santa Monica, Cal., was established in 1926 and officially removed from the U.S. highway system in 1985. — Ed.
Wilford J. Kramer
Wilford Kramer wrote editorials and opinion columns for the Journal from 1945 until 1952. He also broadcast his thoughts on issues of the day twice a week over radio station WCVS (the Journal’s owners also were part-owners of the station).
Kramer, born on a farm in Mason County in 1920, “lived for a dimly remembered year in Virginia (Illinois) and was brought to Springfield in 1923,” he wrote in the author’s note to a collection of his columns published in 1947. Kramer graduated from Springfield schools and the University of Illinois before joining the U.S. Navy during World War II. He served on the battleship USS Alabama in the South Pacific.
In the author’s note, Kramer said he planned to “continue in the field of public opinion in Central Illinois.” “He will have none of the Big City grind, considering life in Springfield hectic enough for those who fully lived it,” he wrote then.
However, Kramer’s South Pacific experiences apparently gave him a taste for foreign affairs that he couldn’t resist. “Upon Reflection” often commented on international issues. Kramer also traveled widely while still working for the newspaper, and he often wrote about his adventures when he returned.
Finally giving in to his foreign fascination, Kramer joined the U.S. Diplomatic Service in 1952. His first assignment was as public affairs attache at the U.S. Embassy in Copenhagen, Denmark. He later served in Tel Aviv and in Bonn, Stuttgart, and Frankfurt, Germany. During the Vietnam War, Kramer was assigned to the city of Da Nang, from where he directed a combined military/civilian psychological operation team in five South Vietnam provinces.
“The combined ‘Psyops’ effort is designed to win greater popular support for the government of Vietnam and influence the enemy to rally to the allied cause,” a Journal story said at the time.
Kramer retired in Germany, home of his second wife. He reportedly died in Stuttgart in 1998.
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