The Garden Spot of Nebraska

One of the most enjoyable and miserable days of my entire trip was last Wednesday, my first full day in Nebraska. The enjoyable part involved meeting the other Indyknow Bloggers, for dinner. The miserable part involved a cruel tag-team of heat and humidity.


Both were pushing the limit of tolerability, and the Heat Index reached 117 that day. Luckily, my rental (a Buik LaCrosse) has a kick-ass AC, so the drive was no sweat.

I met Tonga at the offices of the Grand Island Daily Independent. She introduced me around and even gave me a tour of the place.


The Press - Grand Island, Nebraska, Daily Independent
After my tour of the paper, we went to dinner at Godfather's Pizza. I just want to mention, briefly, that I think Godfather's is just about the best pizza in the world - and their Taco Pizza is a masterpiece of Mexitalian cuisine.

Following dinner, we each took turns trying to help a blind woman find the Wendy's, which was about a half a block to the north. She was lost in the Godfather's parking lot. It wasn't funny, except for the fact that we all tried to help her, and we all failed. She may still be wandering around the parking lot as I type this.

Anyway, Tonga and I then moved on to drinks at a little martini bar called J. Alfred Prufrock's. Nice place, good booze, great people, crappy-ass air-conditioner. We peeled off layers and drank cocktails while fanning ourselves with the leather-bound bar menus. I had five or six Knobb Creek Manhattans. Tonga drank a couple three of her "usuals" (containing I don't know what). Our bill came to $15.50 (it was happy hour - but still... wow).

During my tour of the paper, Tonga took me downstairs to the "morgue," where they keep actual printed copies of every issue dating back to the 1880's. Spread open on a table was an issue dated Saturday, October 4, 1913 with a headline that read Hall County---the Garden Spot of Nebraska.


It was basically a very long-winded article singing (quite loudly) the praises of Hall County, of which Grand Island is the county seat. I'll upload a readable photo of the article from my camera when I get back to San Francisco. But for now, I thought I'd quote an interesting passage describing the Wood River (which flows through the southern edge of town and marked the northern edge of the island) in 1871.

It is a vast serpentine vineyard, literally festooned with wild grapes. To this delightful description might be added that in the bends of this winding river were orchards of wild plums, in their season loaded with fruit, the red and yellow of the ripening fruit with the green of the bordering trees, making a picture of surpassing beauty and loveliness while the fruit itself was most delicious to the taster. Did one wish to cross this river, there were at convenient distances bridges built by those most cunning and ingenious workmen, the beaver. Standing on either bank of this meandering stream, which with its fringe of trees lay like a thread of dark green in the lighter green of the far reaching valley, and looking across the smooth prairie as far as the eye could reach could be seen herds of innumerable buffalo feeding and fattening on the nutritious grasses. Always there could be seen flocks of timid antelope, their white flags discernible even miles distant. Occasionally would pass herds of stately elk, and bounding over the prairie were smaller herds of black tail deer, while the accompanying whir of startled prairie chickens seemed but the echo of fast fleeing footsteps. The Wood River Valley of the Platte. Before the coming of the white man, a land of fatness, a scene of primeval loveliness and beauty. To the white man and his descendants, the home of plenty, a dwelling place of contentment, peace, and happiness.

So, it turns out that Le Grande Ile on the River Platte used to be the Garden of Eden (until sometime between 1871 and 1913). It totally makes sense. You see, I've always held that three of the seven gates to hell were located there.