American Pie

"So bye-bye, miss american pie.Drove my chevy to the levee,But the levee was dry.And them good old boys were drinkin’ whiskey and rye Singin’, "this’ll be the day that I die."this’ll be the day that I die."
- Don McLean, "American Pie"

My daughter's favorite song is American Pie. We sing it together as she goes to sleep, and no matter how fussy she is at the first few bars, she is calm and ready for sleep by the final line about the Father, Son and Holy Ghost taking the last train for the coast. Singing the refrain so many times has had me thinking of a few connections between this American classic and life here in Iowa.

For those of you who don’t know, we are currently building a new home near Coralville Lake, a man-made lake just north of Iowa City. This dam holds back the Iowa River and controls flooding in Iowa City downstream. Of course, that only works until the water gets so high that it pours over the lip of the emergency spillway. Thankfully, that has only happened twice in history: in 1993 and again last June. The resulting flood at the University of Iowa wiped out a few dozen homes and the entire arts campus: the art school, the music school, the art museum (the art was saved and moved to storage before the flood), and, worst of all, the major performing arts theatre in Iowa City (Hancher Auditorium). It may be two years before these buildings can be occupied again. Other than that, however, the flood damage was mostly contained by an army of student and local volunteers. More sandbags were used in Iowa than in the entire Katrina disaster! The sandbagging efforts were so vigorous that the filling of new bags was called off more than a day before the expected peak of the flood. In its wake, the torrent of water below the spillway uncovered a bed of fossils from the Devonian era. Today, families walk in the dry gorge to gawk at the fossils, leaving their cars in a lot that was buried by millions of gallons of water per second only a few months ago. We are certainly thankful that the levee is now dry!

Don McLean’s primary inspiration for his epic piece of Americana was the tragic death of Buddy Holly, along with Richie Valens and the Big Bopper. Iowa proudly lays claim to this unfortunate pop culture event. After performing at the Surf Ballroom (which still exists and still hosts concerts) their plane took off from the airport at Clear Lake, IA only to crash into a field nearby. If you are ever wandering the back roads of Iowa, somehow lost off the I-35 between Des Moines and Minneapolis, you can visit the memorial that stands at the crash site.

A few months back, I was wandering the back roads of Iowa just south of Clear Lake and stumbled upon the tiny hamlet of Templeton, Iowa. Templeton is well known to bootleggers and whiskey aficionados as the source of the infamous Templeton Rye Whiskey, a brand that flourished during the days of prohibition. Some claim that Templeton Rye was a favorite of Al Capone, who made sure that his lackeys smuggled enough to the resort town of Galena, IL, on the Iowa border across from Dubuque, IA. Templeton Rye was even enjoyed in some of the finest speakeasies of the Windy City itself. Today, a legal edition of the whiskey is marketed. It is an outstanding whiskey: smooth, drinkable, and finishes with a subtle overtone of spice and smoke. Or, for those less accustomed to whiskey, it tastes like battery acid.
I have been to the town- there is not much there. There is only one bar, and it doesn't sell bottles of the famed whiskey. The distillery is a plain looking alluminum warehouse on te edge of town, with no tours or a factory store. Trust me, if you want to go see how whiskey is made, go to the Highlands of Scotland, not Templeton, IA

That road trip on which I encountered Templeton took me from Sioux City to Waterloo to back home in Iowa City. Normally, the opportunity to explore new communities among the pastoral bliss of an Iowan summer would have been very appealing. But as the miles and gallons ticked by, and as the rapid roll of the “sale” window of the gas pump climbed ever higher, I longed for more efficient vehicle. Now don’t get me wrong; my Subaru Outback is no slouch at 24 MPG. And during every ice storm that rolls through in January I thank my lucky stars for that beautiful piece of all-wheel Japanese engineering. But I can tell you right now what my next car will be: The Chevy Volt. Assuming this car works as well as the “geniuses” at GM say it will, I will pretty much go from having a fuel bill to having an electrical bill (actually, I believe they have do have some genius engineers at GM- the bozos in the board room are a different matter). By being able to plug it into an outlet at home every night, the car will run silently on electrical power for most if not all of my average driving of 15 miles per day. And when I do make that occasional trip to Waterloo, Clear Lake, or, heaven forbid, Templeton, the internal combustion engine kicks in after 30 miles to charge my battery on the fly. I can’t wait!

http://money.cnn.com/2008/09/11/autos/volt_official_reveal/index.htm?cnn=yes

When we do finally finish building our house by the lake, and if the geniuses manage to get the Volt into production, I can celebrate by heading out to the dam, popping open a bottle of Templeton Rye Whiskey, and drink a toast to Iowa, Buddy Holly, and classic Rock and Roll. So, yes, I will drive my chevy to the levee and drink whiskey and rye. That will be the day that I really start living!

Fight On,

Hans