The Greatest Ruin in the United States

I

This was kind of the point of this trip, once Hannibal Missouri was assessed as excessive. Yes, there are limitations. You can't just drive the night through three times in a row, can you? You can't go through life with a seemingly permanent slight sense of Unheimlichkeit in the aftermath of a peculiar trip and family trauma, can you? Yes. We. Can. And will.

By this point in the trip, whether it was just the intensity of it thus far, or the sense of anticipation at being at the cusp of Cairo, I was pretty much inured to most anything. And, when you kind of stumble around gradually and have an easy-going talkative style, you end up meeting the darndest people. Deep in the wilds of southern Illinois, at the cusp of Carbondale, somewhere where the salukis roam, whateverthefuck they are...

I knew it would turn weird, now that I was turning pro, or whatever. Traditional two egg breakfast on the edge of Carbondale in an anodyne strip mall. AI told me it was the best diner for breakfast in all of "Little Egypt". And we all know that de Nile ain't just a river in Egypt. Bugs Bunny will tell you that. Along with much else. You know who else will tell you alot of stuff? This guy.

I was just minding my own business in the corner when this other mysterious stranger came into the Sunny Street Cafe. I knew this place was next level when you could order a cocktail with your breakfast. I actually eschewed it (he'd insist on an expensive shot at the end; I'd drink half of it). Not my soon to be new friend though. And his lady.

He was enjoying a largish mimosa and talking up a storm about his daughter being a muthafuckin' Fulbright Scholar. Ha ha ha! Just boisterous as shit, but entertaining because the place was empty at 7:30 or so and he was amusing the waitstaff singing songs eventually, while his lady silently observed it, by in large. So, naturally, I have to pipe up once one of the waitstaff said: "I'm marrying a Fulbright Scholar from Morocco". Trifecta. That's good, right?

His name was Robert, if I recall. Too many other details are just as well left off as to his Lebenslauf. We first chatted about his daughter and being a Fulbright Scholar. Soon enough it got to politics and he told me: "You're on a list. Believe me I know." Every five years or so somebody like this drops in on me randomly. As I said, I'm inured to it. The most likely explanation is pure happenstance. But, as is generally not the wont of such people, he informed me he had been with The Company.

The Fulbright Scholarship was designed to cement Germany, among others, to the Anglo-American establishment, sort of the like the Rhodes Scholarship, but for dummies. Hell, I was merely a "Half-Brighter", a distinction leveled by the "scholars" at the "teaching assistants". These are among the enticements.

Which is a joke because nobody does much of any work. You're there to socialize with other elites. Sure, you do have to show up for some embassy-sponsored events and put America's best foot forward, which I, as a rule, refused to do. Smart alleck asides and the like in Leipzig at the Amerika Haus. But that's a story for another time.

I don't think going through this line and verse is necessary. It was a highly enjoyable mind-meld a la "Hand Banana". We were "blood brothers". Why? I could throw this OG for a loop, just as he did me. He fist-bumped me and it was like a block of concrete striking a plastic ornament.

I guess he'd killed people. I might have come right out and said it. Or implied it by my annoyed denunciation of American foreign policy. Or that is was stupid. He didn't really dispute it all that much. Said Israel was in big trouble, which seemed in line with my thinking – people are sick of it. A dissenter from the former ranks of Capitalism's Invisible Army? Not on your life.

He represented himself as being named Stephen too. His middle name? Another one of these guys turned businessman, with interests in a variety of states. Started calling me Steph, because that's what his mother calls him. Ok. He knew rappers and showed me his venue in Southern California with booked acts, some of whom I had heard of.

So, fine, you meet a curious character and vibe. It was really fun meeting such a charismatic person. I raised my energy level to match the Doppelganger, the "brother from another mother" and all that jazz. He had rented a Nissan Altima, just as I did, and it was parked next to mine. Uh huh.

This felt significant at the time, but he never followed up with contact information after promising to take me to his compound by neighboring Marion down by the Interstate in the future. I could look him up, and I guess I will if I ever end up by Cairo again. These E/INTJ-types are capable of making up the wildest backstories, come to fine out – I should know, you're reading this – so you never really know what you're dealing with. You just go with it.

II

Whatevers. I was sleep-deprived as per usual and headed off to Cairo non-plussed. It was a pleasant drive. It always is seeing the morning wax. I knew what would be awaiting me there, as I'd heard of this place decades ago and reacquainted myself with the You Tube videos of previous ruin explorers. I enjoy this guy's work, but it's a little more play by play than color.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mB6VhWMp8qw

Went through the rail tunnel and hit the seemingly abandonned part of town, which stretches for perhaps a dozen blocks. Cairo's population reached its peak in 1920 at 15,000. In 2020, the residents numbered 1,733. By 1909 there had already been multiple lynchings. To the extent you're interested, the Wikipedia page is quite informative. Civil rights unrest in the late 1960's drove the stake in. A black soldier named Robert Hunt, back from Vietnam presumably, was found hung in the police station.

I don't know what it is about ruins that captures the imagination of people. I guess most people find them off-putting? I've always gravitated towards them in the same way that I seek out cemeteries. It's some morbid turn of mind perhaps, or just whatever.

Hitler is said to have designed the Nuremburg rally grounds, and the accompanying still unfinished Kongresshalle specifically so that they'd look good ruined. Probably an artifact of his fascination with Wagner's Rienzi. More on that in the documentary "The Architecture of Doom", which is by far the most insighful documentary on "the greatest outbreak of insanity in world history" in Noam Chomsky's turn of phrase.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=j_KmZsA5Pfs

Well, there's that and then there's Cairo, which has nothing to do with that, actually. My first stop was the mansion district. Because, like Tammy Faye, I too 'like pretty things'. But you had to go through your share of urban decay first. As with most impressive places, pictures speak a thousand words, so we'll lead with that. I don't have any more insight into the significance of Cairo than anybody else, and much less than truly interested parties.

It was getting pretty hot and my constitution is incapable of weathering much of it. I had a sunstroke as a child in the Algarve and it wasn't pleasant. So, I try to mind my well-being, actually with a great deal of forethought, which should reassure my parents, but they tend not to listen to good news. Or much cultivate it, either, which is unproductive. Bobby Knight is said to have written a book called "The Power of Negative Thinking", which is funny and true but unfun. Got a signed copy just now; been meaning to do that.

I didn't even spend that much time here. Probably four or five hours. I drove around and shielded myself from the heat by snapping 100 photos from the car, mostly. I just wilt in this kind of intense heat, which was evident already by 10 AM.

Maybe you've seen one ruin, you've seen them all?

III

No. It was just the heat. So, where better to find respite than at the local library. And this place is a gem indeed, second in my estimation only to the Atheneum in St. Johnsbury, VT.

I guess I spent several hours here. Chatting up the maintenance man, as well as the librarian herself. It was a ghostly place. No patrons were evident.

Again, there's not much to say, only that I befriended the librarian and told her what a wondrous treasure trove she had. She appreciated it to be sure. And gladly showed me old and valuable books which The Board determined could not be sold to benefit the library. These things still belonged to The Town. And I wasn't about to make any vulgar overtures in that direction. I did suggest that they ammend that rule so as to create a supplementary compensation fund for the employees. She laughed at that in a not entirely carefree way.

There were all manner of architecturally interesting nuances in this building. I'll share a small proportion of them.

The rest of my time was spent doing administrative things with my on-the-fritz laptop. The internet access was too spotty to get anything done. So having purchased my local history book and postcards, it was time to get lunch. Why I just kept driving I'm not sure, but a few more photos should round out this missive. We'll pick up with the remainder of the day tomorrow.