Fort Madison, Iowa, is a bit scruffy, a tad
unkempt. There are downtown buildings with peeling paint and a
cemetery on the main drag that manages to look haunted in broad
daylight. A few cracked sidewalks spill out sandy soil and nurture
the occasional robust weed. In essence, Fort Madison is not a
beautiful town. Luckily, though, it does have a great personality,
a personality that has had nearly two centuries to develop.
In 1808, the trading post and fort established
alongside the Mississippi River was the farthest-flung and most
tenuously held outpost of the fledgling U.S. government. A stone
chimney is the sole remnant of the original fort that was torched
by its own garrison as they retreated down the river one night,
worn down by the hail of musket balls and arrows unleashed by
Blackhawk’s braves.
The town is undergoing a different kind of
abandonment now. The Sheaffer Pen Co., created by a local jeweler
and once boasting 2,000 local employees, is shutting down its last
plant and letting go its last 200 workers.
So if the storefronts don’t gleam and a
few businesses look anemic, there’s a common, distressing
reason: Fort Madison, like many small towns, is doing its best to
survive economically. But survival is in its history. After the
garrison left, settlers eventually arrived. Blackhawk himself
returned and settled down to a peaceable retirement in the area.
Though Sheaffer Pen jobs are leaving, light manufacturing has
rooted itself in the outskirts of town, the busy railroad yard
still thrums with trains, and a tourism industry, centering on the
river front park and an evolving downtown, is being
built from the ground up.
The long, broad green swath of grass and
asphalt that buffers the Mississippi from downtown is the
riverfront park. The Catfish Bend Casino, a faux riverboat decked
out with ruffled black smokestacks and a red paddlewheel, anchors
one end. Captain Kirk’s Marina, harboring a hodgepodge of
fishing and pleasure boats in the day and rock bands at night,
marks the other. In between, the park is kind of a town timeline.
A replica fort — a triangle of picket
walls intersecting at two-story blockhouses — squats in the
park’s center. Re-enactments of fort history are performed
through much of the year, bringing it back to life briefly.
Nearby, a complex of classic railroad depots
— redbrick and clay-tile roofs — has been converted to
other uses. A museum charts the continuing symbiosis of the Santa
Fe Railroad and the town. A civic center hosts a ceramics workshop
and a gallery with a cavernous space used for art exhibitions. The Flood Museum,
dedicated to the devastating flood of 1993, offers a reminder to
visitors of the hazards of river life. The locals don’t need a
museum — the flood lives in their memories and conversations.
The park also invites some blessed inactivity.
Benches tucked beneath shade trees face the river, offering a quiet
space to take in the Mississippi and the view beyond. The Illinois
side consists of undulating bluffs and densely verdant slopes. The occasional metallic
sheen marks a boathouse. A cell-phone tower or two rises in outline
to the sky, looking thin and fuzzy, like moth antennae. But things
are mostly serene on the opposite shore, on the blue-gray river
riffled lightly by the wind, and under the tree on the bench in the
quiet expanse of park.
If it’s time to stretch your legs, head
for what could be a reincarnation of that long-gone trading post:
Faeth’s Cigar Store. Multiple generations of Faeths have
dispensed cold beer, pickled eggs, and conversation from behind the
store’s bar. But only a few (perhaps unsteady) steps away are
counters of hunting knives, handguns, and shotguns. There’s
plenty of ammo, too, and a small alcove holds cigars. Nearly as
unique and venerable as the store is the current Faeth proprietor,
Bill. He’s likely to fill a newcomer’s ear with jokes
and local history and show a dog-eared copy of the July 14, 2000,
edition of Time from which his gray-bearded visage beams.
If it’s time to further slake your
thirst, the Lonely Duck brewpub is the place to go. Gleaming copper
brew kettles on the second floor produce the 10 varieties of beer
on tap. The pumpkin may take some practice to enjoy, but
the pale ale and porter are clear winners.
If it’s time to explore further, Quarry
Creek Ranch waits beyond the river bluffs and out on the prairie.
Originally populated by one popcorn-fed elk, the surrounding
pasture now holds more than 300 elk and bison. A log-cabin store
sells outdoor clothing and various knickknacks, but the main
business is meat. Elk and bison are supposedly leaner than beef
and, consequently, healthier, but they are inarguably tasty and
tender. Bison ribeye practically crumbles when cut.
If it’s time to rest and eat, the choice
is clear. Stay at the Kingsley Inn and eat at the adjoining
restaurant, Alpha’s. The buildings, in a former life, held a
cleaners but were transformed into the jewel of downtown in a
painstaking brick-by-brick restoration and renamed in honor of the
fort’s first commander, Alpha Kingsley.
The inn recreates turn-of-the-century
grandeur, with tall beds, Victorian furniture, floral rugs, and
embossed wallpaper painted fire-engine red and lacquered to a
reflective sheen.
Alpha’s may seem to be a typical
steakhouse, where cuts of beef are covered with onions, mushrooms,
and gravy. But chef and owner Kumar Wickramasingha creates specials
with spices from his native Sri Lanka, using techniques learned in
a peripatetic apprenticeship. For example, the recipe for the
deep-fried, cornmeal-coated strawberries served with whipped cream
and black-raspberry jam comes from New Orleans. The berries are
sweet and crunchy and cool and soothing. Much like Fort Madison,
they’re a nice reward for looking just below the surface.
On the way
Getting to Fort Madison, Iowa, has its
highlights, too. Count on a two-and-a-half-hour drive from
Springfield. Add time for side trips, especially Nauvoo. Take state
Route 97 to 125. At Beardstown, go north on U.S. 67 to Macomb.
Follow U.S. 136 west to state Route 96. Cross the Mississippi at
96/9. You’re there. Drink beer. Have fun.
State Route 96 has been dubbed the Great
River Road. For the 12 miles that the road winds between Hamilton
and Nauvoo, it shares an appealing symbiosis with the river and
finally earns its name. The Mississippi is at times obscured by
trees; at other times, the waves lap and the foamy flotsam rests
nearly on the shoulder of the road. Take a picnic. Stop. Several
overlooks offer parking and tables. The river is wide and changing
and worth watching.
Then it’s on to Nauvoo. The town is, of
course, worthy of its own article — or, more properly, its
own book. In fact, many books have been written about it. But the
latest chapter in the town’s history is the rejuvenation of
the town’s Mormon past. The old temple was rebuilt in 2002.
It’s an impressive structure, made of clean limestone and
capped with a towering steeple. The sides are notable for sunbursts
featuring somewhat befuddled-looking faces and azure windows in the
shape of upside-down five-pointed stars. The Mormon presence
doesn’t end there. The town is dotted with brick buildings
dating to the town’s heyday in the early 1840s. The visitor
center of the Joseph Smith Historic Site is worth a stop. An
introductory movie and tours are available.
Also in Nauvoo is Baxter’s Winery.
It’s the oldest continuously operated winery in the state,
having resumed production shortly after the repeal of Prohibition.
The dozen-or-so wines are, well, not bad. Lovers of Missouri wines
will find these every bit as good. The winery was also once a place
to buy the well-known Nauvoo Blue Cheese. Unfortunately, the cheese
factory was bought and moved by a large corporation, and the old
factory is set to be bulldozed. The loss of about 60 jobs stings a
community the size of Nauvoo. The Baxter family hopes to start
production of artisanal blue cheese this summer.
Onward north to Niota, a hiccup in the road.
If you’re in the market for a retractable duck blind,
there’s one for sale along state Route 96. But if
you’re not into shooting your food, stop at Quality
Fisheries. The place is small and smells like beached whale, but
the refrigerator cases offer smoked carp and catfish, former
residents of the Mississippi, a gimpy stone’s throw away. Buy
some of the carp, preferably Cajun-style — it’s moist
and flavorful. After one bite, you will finally understand why God
created carp.
Eat your fish. Wipe your chin. Head a bit
farther north and cross some busy railroad tracks. You’re at
the foot of the Santa Fe Swing Span Bridge, at 525 feet the
world’s largest double-decker swing-span bridge. Watch out
for the narrow lanes and bends where the bridge pivots away from
terra firma. As you cross the bridge, the view is handsome: broad
river to the north, rolling emerald aspect on the Illinois side.
It’s free to go, but have a dollar on hand on the return
trip.
Carthage: In the mood for more Joseph Smith
stuff? The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints has restored
the jail where the church founder and his brother were killed in
1844. A visitor center and gardens are open year-round. On the east
edge of town are blocks of once-regal but now eerily decrepit
buildings — the old campus of Carl Sandburg College.
Hamilton is where U.S. Route 136 intersects
with the Great River Road. It’s here that your transformation
from prairie dog to river rat begins. The first sight of Old Man
River includes Lock and Dam 19, the largest lock on the
Mississippi. The bridge spans 1,200 feet, and the lock is open 24
hours to visitors. It’s an impressive sight.
This article appears in Jun 2-8, 2005.
