Romancing the Roads (11 page)

A small sign announced Turkey, Texas. It was around 3:30 p.m. People? I don’t think I saw a soul. Main Street could be renamed “Only Street.” Still, there were buildings—standing and with all the windowpanes intact. Turkey Hotel, where are you? If someone had said I was on an old John Wayne or Clint Eastwood movie set, I would not have disputed it.

Turkey Hotel

Third and Alexander

806-423-1151

In 1927 this hotel was constructed for $85,000. That is a lot of 1927 dollars! From 1931 to 1988, it was owned by the same family. Around the time of the Depression, it sold for $10,000. Now owned by Turkey resident Cody Bell and listed in the state and national historic registries, this hotel has remained in continuous operation.

Walking up to the hotel, you can easily envision where the horses were tied up years ago. After stepping onto the creaky porch and through the front door, I was amazed to see mannequins dressed in western-style clothing. My friend and I smiled at each other, a bit bewildered about what I had gotten us into. In the next room, we saw the front desk. We tapped the bell as instructed, and after the third ring, an attractive woman appeared smiling. It was then owner Mona Boles. “Oh, I am so glad you are here,” she said.

We were not really convinced that we should stay, so I said that we had made such good time (which was very true) getting to Turkey, perhaps we should go on as we had lots of miles still to drive.

Mona’s expression turned to sadness as she said, “Oh, I turned on the air conditioner for you this morning.” I started to say that I would be glad to pay for a night, but something sealed my lips. We chatted, Mona shared a few local details, and I said that we were going to venture into town and explore before we settled in. My friend and I returned to the car to decide on our plan. We voted that Mona was too nice. We couldn’t let her down. I truly wanted to see our accommodations and everything about the Turkey Hotel.

We spent the rest of the afternoon driving on long, straight roads where we saw only an occasional pickup truck, a stray cow, and lots of dust. We made it to Caprock Canyon, a pretty place to visit and home to the remaining original free-roaming bison herd belonging to Col. C. Goodnight.

We sensibly turned around and returned to the hotel before dark. A stop at the
Turkey Gas Station and Store
was an experience. My friend, a gourmet chef and former hotel owner, decided to go into the store to find our dinner fixings—maybe just some heavy munchies to go with our traveling vino. I waited in the car, and a few minutes later, laughing from head to toe, she walked out of the store holding a small bag and a stalk of bent-over yellow celery.

“I don’t think it will poison us,” my chef friend said. “We’ll have a good drink for sure.” We headed back to the hotel.

Mona was waiting. We followed her to our room. Along the stairs and in the hallway of the second floor were more mannequins dressed in period clothing. Our room was decorated with memorabilia. I washed my face and hands, and as we headed back downstairs, I admit, I peeked behind a few unlocked doors in the hallway. I saw more creatively decorated rooms. Mona had been joined by her granddaughter. Mona looked so young. The two “girls” showed us out to the very pleasant back garden. We brought a glass of wine downstairs as well as our “groceries.” It was really very nice, sitting in the garden, debating about our hors d’oeuvres, and reflecting on our day. I was glad to have stayed, and the next event underscored this feeling. The birds were chirping; the air was cooling. Mona and her granddaughter came out, and we all shared stories. They went into the house and suddenly return with a big tray. Mona had prepared dinner for us! They were so happy to share and, oh! did I feel like a jerk for my previous thoughts. Eat your hearts out, fancy-schmancy hotels. This is real, genuine hospitality. It was wonderful. We all talked for quite a while, and Mona revealed that she, her husband, and their children had lived not far from Turkey. Her husband had had, I think, a radio station. One of her daughters was a country-western singer. Her granddaughter was finishing school. Before we went upstairs, Mona told us about the breakfast selections. “I’ll just have some juice—fruit if it’s available, a piece of toast or muffin, and some coffee. I really don’t eat much in the morning—especially when traveling.” My friend decided to have a bit more.

Up to our room we went. The evening shower was cooling, and the bed was comfortable. I was glad the air-conditioning had been turned on. As I looked around the room at the memorabilia, I wished it all could talk. My eyes quickly shut, and without a toss or turn, I awoke as morning was dawning.

Chatting at breakfast was most pleasant as we learned more about the area. This place would be a fantastic major corporate retreat and hunting camp. “I like that idea” said Mona.

It was time to leave. We all hugged. It had been a treat and an experience to be in Turkey, Texas, at the Turkey Hotel.

Update:
As stated, Cody Bell now owns the Turkey Hotel. The mannequins and decorative tidbits have gone. A lot has been done to the hotel, as I discovered when I spoke with René Valdez. He and his wife, Marsha, manage the hotel and are glad to be back in Turkey rather than Houston.

Driving out of Turkey, one sees very attractive wrought iron signs on the sides of the road, some with turkeys, birds, and trees, stating, “Turkey, Texas, Home of Bob Wills.” Another showed seven male figures playing musical instruments with the same statement. I also discovered that Turkey has a 1950s-style drive-in movie theater open in the summer.

Leaving Turkey on Route 86: Turn off onto I-70 North; then take Highway 287 North through Clarendon to Amarillo. Eventually you connect back up with I-40. Yes! Back on an interstate and into the hubbub of progress!

Observation:
It is not hard to appreciate tiny towns and to acknowledge their way of life. We all have the same basic life functions; the residents of these towns watch the same TV shows you do and like many of the same things. They are, in ways, inspirational, and you can learn a lot, even if the population numbers fewer than five hundred. You may not want the life of denizen of a tiny town, and those denizens probably do not want yours—but both can give and share so much.

Amarillo (Population over 150,000)

Heading west
, Amarillo is the last major Texas town before you cross the border into New Mexico. See the New Mexico chapter for places in New Mexico near the Texas border.

To Houston on I-10

The road
was as expected. There are several places of real interest on the
Gulf of Mexico
, such as
Galveston
, but I did not have time on this trip to stop. Next time.

Houston

Houston
, this country’s fourth-largest city, is nice, and I was impressed. Driving toward the city, the skyline was arresting. I found Houston to be a big city with a s
mall-town ambiance of camaraderie. In some of the residential areas, Texas wealth was not in question.

Hotel Icon

220 Main St.

713-224-4266

w
ww.hotelicon.com

I drove into the garage, and two attendants approached the car. One said, “Greetings, Ms. Davis.” Caught off guard and slightly snowed by the greeting, I returned their smiles. The attendants looked at my stuffed car, and I could read their thoughts on their faces. They were obviously relieved when I said I would only need two bags. I asked if my car could be parked close by, and they pointed to a spot a stone’s throw away. Perfect.

I walked into the hotel and was immediately impressed. The fact that it was once a big Texas bank can easily be perceived, especially when you are at the desk checking in and notice the big bank safe in front of you. The lobby, with its huge columns dividing the massive space, is about two stories tall. The decor is dark, but with the frosted-glass chandeliers illuminating the space, all works well. The updated original elevators still have the tracking panel on the main floor. I love nostalgia!

My room was spacious, with dark decor and a fantastic view of the main thoroughfare of Houston. I was pleasantly surprised by how clean and wide the streets are.

Important Note:
There is a metro rail in the middle of the main street. I learned when I took it that you buy your ticket from the machine
for the designated period that you want it to be valid (more on the metro rail below).

My room had an attractive mirrored niche for a bar and a coffeemaker. The most noticeable points needing attention I found in the large bathroom. The sides of the tub are very high. Directions for the French shower/sprayer are needed; I could not get it to work. The glassed-in shower was as large as a studio apartment. Very nice! The shower’s bathing gel, shampoo, and conditioner are in pump bottles attached to the wall. Also very nice! The amenities for the bath were on the vanity by the sink—a little far away when one is soaking. But there was no horseshoe toilet seat, thank goodness. There was only one small hook—a bull’s head on the bath wall—and I did not find a long mirror anywhere. There was no telephone in the bathroom, so remember to take the cordless from the bedroom if necessary.

In the closet I found the usual two robes, two pairs of slippers, umbrella, safe, iron, ironing board, laundry bag, and, this is a first, a Federal Express envelope with label. This is minor, but the lights on each side of the bed were too high
and the switches a little hard to find. The mattress was very comfortable and the sheets excellent. The staff was most helpful in telling me about the property.

Dining: There is the
Voice Restaurant
and
Voice Bar/Lounge
. Voice (formerly called the Bank), a beautiful, sophisticated restaurant, is located in the lobby. The dinner I enjoyed was memorable and delicious. As you indulge, look around the spacious area and imagine what this bustling bank was like in its heyday.

The Hotel Icon is convenient to many of Houston’s downtown attractions. It would be hard not to enjoy a stay at this acclaimed hotel or just an evening of delicious dining.

There is a
fitness and day spa
(832-667-4466), which I did not have time to enjoy.

The Alden (formerly the Sam Hotel)

1117 Prairie St.

832-200-8800

www.aldenhotels.com

The Alden (meaning “old friend”) is a luxury hotel in downtown Houston’s business district. Upon entering, you are surrounded by upscale, modern, sleek decor and ambiance. Since it is one of the oldest hotels in the city (built in 1924), many claim that a ghost from the 1920s is present. (I love those ghosts.) There are ninety-seven luxurious guest rooms and nine suites.

Upon my arrival, the staff made me feel as if they have known me for years. The check-in took place at a large oval desk where I sat down to do the necessary check-in particulars. I felt that I was in someone’s office or library. Given my key card, I noticed that the hotel’s telephone number and address were written on it. So smart!

It would be hard not to be impressed by the lobby’s wall-size light installation titled “Invitation” by David Lander. The light colors fade and return in different forms and hues throughout the day, evening, and night. One would have to sit in the lobby for three days to watch the entire sequence.

The signage was good. I found my way to the room, a junior suite, easily. The living room area was pleasant with sofa, coffee table, and entertainment center. When I returned to my room after dinner, I found chocolate-covered strawberries and a bottle of wine on the coffee table. Thank you!

The bedroom was comfortable and not too big. Of course, the bedding was Egyptian cotton with a three hundred thread count. The bathroom was modern with slick, gray granite countertops, a large tub, and a superlarge glass-enclosed shower. All the amenities are in order.

*17
(832-200-8888)—yes, just “*17”—is the restaurant at the Alden. I was to learn that the name derives from years past when Houston was a destination for seventeen railroads. How original to name the restaurant “*17”! It wasn’t until I was perusing the menu and saw all the delicious seafood choices that I remembered Houston is on the sea. Whether you are having the gulf shrimp curry or the sea scallops with granny smith apples, you will enjoy it to the max. I found the meal’s accompaniments to be in the right proportions.

Although I had little room left for dessert, I did get a sample plate, and each taste was delicious.

The lounge at the Alden, the
Sam Bar
is a perfect, unpretentious spot to unwind or wind up.

The Alden is not a hotel of a cookie-cutter format; it has its own descriptive umbrella.

Museum of Fine Arts Houston

1001 Bissonnet St.

713-639-7300

www.mfah.org

The metro rail took me by several different areas and turned into a sightseeing event in itself. Arriving at the museum, I was immediately impressed. It is hard to camouflage excellence. I read that it is “the largest art museum [in America] south of Chicago, west of Washington, DC, and east of Los Angeles.” I discovered that I could not see it all on my visit, as it has three hundred thousand square feet of display space. I did see the photography exhibit of Diane Arbus’s excellent and moving work. It is accurate, real-life, superb photography. Perhaps as a New Yorker, I could relate as so many of her photographs are taken in Manhattan.

Also at the museum was an interesting and very well-displayed Murano glass exhibit. There was so much to see, but during this visit, just walking in the various galleries would have to suffice. Without a doubt, the Museum of Fine Arts Houston is impressive.

Note:
If you are anywhere near a Diane Arbus exhibit, be sure to see it. Or get one of her books.

Rienzi

1406 Kirby Dr.

713-639-7800

www.mfah.org/visit/rienzi/Rienzi-Education

Part of the Museum of Fine Arts Houston, this former private home houses a most important collection of European decorative arts. Aside from seeing one of the world’s finest collections of Worchester porcelain, you will tour the rooms where the Rienzi family actually lived. The house is magnificent but very livable. The more you look, the more you see and feel the warmth of a real family home.