American Pilgrim: A Post-September 11Th Bus Trip and Other Tales of the Road

By Bill Markley

God bless the United States and God bless New York City proclaimed a sign as the bus rolled through a small Indiana town. In October 2001, author Bill Markley was traveling by public bus from Pierre, South Dakota, to Virginia Tech in Blacksburg, Virginia, for a Delta Kappa Epsilon fraternity celebration. The day Markley left South Dakota began simply enough, but soon tragedy unfolded when a deranged man of Croatian descent slit the throat of a Greyhound bus driver causing an accident and throwing the nations bus system into disarray.

American Pilgrim is an honest account of life on the bus, the characters on the bus, bus culture, and the mood of the American peoplereflective, patriotic, and upbeat.

In those challenging days after the attacks on 9/11, everyone struggled to make sense of the world; as Markley worked on this story; it grew beyond the story of a simple 3,000-mile bus trip. He recalls many of his lifes detours, recounting past events at locations the bus traveled through and people associated with those locationsa rambling personal history of people, places, and things. The trip took on new meaning and became a spiritual journey into the countrys past and Markleys past.

• Language: English
• Publisher: iUniverse
• Release date: Aug 10, 2011
• ISBN: 9781462044573

Bill Markley

Bill Markley was an extra in Dances With Wolves, Son of the Morning Star, Far and Away, Gettysburg, and Crazy Horse. His hobbies include: writing, reading, reenacting, hiking, and camping. He and his wife, Liz, have been married over twenty years and have two children, Becky and Christopher.

Book preview

Contents

List of Maps

Preface

Acknowledgements

Chapter 1:

Beginning with a Crash, October 3, 2001, Wednesday

Chapter 2:

Pre-Boarding

Chapter 3:

Pierre Departure, October 3, 2001, Wednesday

Chapter 4:

Pierre to Sioux Falls

Chapter 5:

Sioux Falls Transfer

Chapter 6:

Sioux Falls to Omaha

Chapter 7:

Omaha Transfer

Chapter 8:

Omaha to Kansas City

Chapter 9:

Kansas City Transfer

Chapter 10:

Kansas City to St. Louis

Chapter 11:

St. Louis Transfer

Chapter 12:

St. Louis to Nashville

Chapter 13:

Nashville Transfer

Chapter 14:

Nashville to Christiansburg, Virginia

Chapter 15:

Virginia Tech Destination

Chapter 16:

Christiansburg to Nashville

Chapter 17:

Nashville Transfer

Chapter 18:

Nashville to St. Louis

Chapter 19:

St. Louis Transfer

Chapter 20:

St. Louis to Kansas City

Chapter 21:

Kansas City Transfer

Chapter 22:

Kansas City to Sioux Falls

Chapter 23:

Sioux Falls Transfer

Chapter 24:

Sioux Falls to Pierre

Chapter 25:

Afterward

Chapter 26:

Final Observations

Appendix A

Appendix B

Appendix C

Dedicated to my mother-in-law, Helen Swift (1919-2004), expert traveler.

A smile is great wouldn’t you say; it is amazing how a smile spreads from person to person; when you’re having a bad day someone’s smile can brighten it up completely. It just amazes me how a smile works. Robert Disburg, Optimist,

(September 14, 1990-March 7, 2003.)

Don’t Panic. Doug Adams,

The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy

List of Maps

Map 1: Pierre, South Dakota, to Christiansburg, Virginia

Map 2: Pierre, South Dakota, to Sioux Falls, South Dakota

Map 3: Sioux Falls, South Dakota, to Omaha, Nebraska

Map 4: Omaha, Nebraska, to Kansas City, Missouri

Map 5: Kansas City, Missouri, to Saint Louis, Missouri

Map 6: Saint Louis, Missouri, to Nashville, Tennessee

Map 7: Nashville, Tennessee, to Christiansburg, Virginia

Preface

God bless the United States and God bless New York City, proclaimed a sign as the bus rolled through a small Indiana town. October 2001, I was traveling by public bus to Virginia Tech at Blacksburg, Virginia, for a Delta Kappa Epsilon (DKE) fraternity celebration. This is the story of my attempt at a three thousand mile bus trip from Pierre, South Dakota, to Blacksburg, Virginia, and back. The day I left South Dakota, a deranged Croatian slit the throat of a Greyhound bus driver causing a wreck and throwing the nation’s bus system into disarray. American Pilgrim is a lighthearted account of life on the bus, the characters on the bus, bus-world culture, and the American people’s mood—reflective, patriotic, and upbeat.

As I worked on this story, it grew beyond the attempt to travel from point A to point B and back again. I began to route in detours. These detours recount past events at locations the bus traveled through and people associated with those locations—a rambling personal history of people, places, and things. The trip was not only a physical experience, but also a spiritual journey into the country’s past and my past.

You will find a list of bus rider tips, a checklist of actions to take before starting a bus journey, and items to carry along on the bus in Appendixes A and B. Appendix C is the bus itinerary showing the journey from town to town, minute by minute, hour by hour, and day by day. So sit back, try to relax, and join me on the bus as we rediscover America on a journey back in time and through the countryside as an American Pilgrim.

Acknowledgements

Thank you to Greyhound, Jefferson Bus Lines, and all the people who make America’s bus system work so efficiently. Thanks to a great traveling companion, my mother-in-law Helen Swift.

Special thanks to the DKE Historians: Mark Kellogg, Charlie Lloyd, Hank Mattox, Jim Borchers, Johnny Weld, Lee Collins, Jack Hutcheson, Theta Bowden, Jim Taylor, and Dan James. The DKE Historians kick-started my brain cells to help recall old fraternity stories. Theta Bowden thanks for being the great friend you are and for your help during my journey. Dick Anderson what a graphic description of the Guzzle Cup contest. Jim Daniel thanks for the information on the DKE celebration program. Thanks to Mark Kellogg for sharing his September 11 experiences. Jim Borchers thanks for sharing your insight into our past adventures. To all Sigma Alpha Brothers of Delta Kappa Epsilon, Friends From the Heart Forever!

Pastor Karl Böhmer, howzit? Thank you for sharing a South African perspective on America. Thanks to Cousin Ken Thompson for his input, and Linda, his wife, who showed Ken how to use e-mail just for this book. Chuck Lawless and Bob Jackson thanks for reminiscing on the Galax Fiddlers Convention and thanks to Frank Miller for his contribution to the Galax reminiscing. When asked if he would review the Galax portion Frank wrote I expect prominent listing on the front jacket, two free tickets to Disney World (refundable) and an ice-cold beer on a hot summer’s day. Sorry Frank, this is as good as it gets. Thanks to Grayson Bagley, my college freshman roommate, who introduced a poor ignorant Yankee to the South. He is a true Virginia gentleman.

Thanks to geographer extraordinaire, Ron Woodburn, for the idea of calling my departures from the main story detours. Erik Nelson, GIS wizard, thanks for the great maps. Gale Selken thank you for allowing me to delve into your James River archives. Thanks Sheryl Torguson for moral support, being a sounding board, and keeping my grammar in check. Bill Aisenbrey, thanks for the in-depth review and your additional little-known facts. Betty Leidholt thank you for your review! Western Writers of America friend, Lenore Puhek, thanks for all the support, suggestions, and review! Julianne Couch, Queen of Road Trips, thanks for your advice. Nayyer Syed, thank you for sharing your life story. Nancy Plain thank you for your encouragement. Padre Terry Pool thanks for the support and review. Keep on truckin’! Special thanks from Grasshopper to my mentor, Lucia Robson, who has given me great leads and worthwhile guidance. Gracias Amigo!

To my family, Liz, Becky, and Chris thanks for all your support, encouragement, and advice. To Mom and my brother Doug thanks for your support and advice. My life and all its adventures I owe to my Lord Jesus Christ.

Chapter 1:

Beginning with a Crash, October 3, 2001, Wednesday

Obnoxious buzzing pierced my brain. More asleep than awake, I reached toward the nightstand fumbling to turn off the alarm clock. 6:00 a.m. glowed its digital face.

Liz, I mumbled, Radio. My wife reached toward the nightstand on her side of the bed and flicked on the radio’s switch. This was our standard morning wakeup routine.

 . . . Greyhound bus… the news announcer’s voice spoke as I faded in and out of consciousness,  . . . driver’s throat slashed… accident… ten people killed.

What! I asked Liz, What did he say?

Something about a bus accident.

Fully awake I listened intently; but the announcer had moved on to other news. It was hard to get up after returning to Pierre, South Dakota, at 1:00 a.m. from Governor Bill Janklow’s Terrorism Task Force meeting in Rapid City, South Dakota. After a shave and shower, I went to the kitchen, turned on the morning television news, and ate oatmeal while rapidly clicking the remote flipping from station to station trying to find the latest on the bus accident.

A Croatian had attacked a Greyhound bus driver in Tennessee. He had slashed the driver’s throat causing the bus to veer off the road and crash. The wounded driver was able to climb out of the bus, struggle up onto the road, and find help for the people on the bus. The accident killed ten persons including the Croatian. The bus companies suspended all travel until further notice.

Great! I thought.

I sat at the computer checking airline flights, hoping fares had dropped or something had opened on frequent flier seating—nothing. In fact, the cost of flying had climbed even higher. The airline companies were complaining they were hurting for passengers. Then why not reduce fares to fill the seats? Apparently, that did not make sense to the airlines.

Here I was, ready to take a 3,000-mile round trip bus ride to Blacksburg, Virginia. The authorities had canceled all bus travel indefinitely until they could determine if the attack on the bus driver was an isolated incident or a coordinated terrorist attack on the United States. How was I going to get to my fraternity reunion? As I stared at the computer screen, I thought back through the events that had brought me to this point.

Chapter 2:

Pre-Boarding

I have lived in Pierre, South Dakota, since 1976. Liz, my wife, is from Selby ninety miles to the north. Liz and I met in Pierre where we married and raised our two children, Becky and Christopher. My parents, Bill and Gloria, raised Doug, my younger brother, and me on a small farm at Fairview Village, in southeastern Pennsylvania. I graduated with a Bachelor of Science degree in Biology and a Master of Science degree in Environmental Engineering from Virginia Polytechnic Institute and State University in Blacksburg, Virginia. Since 1976, I have worked for the South Dakota Department of Environment and Natural Resources.

South Dakotans pronounce Pierre, South Dakota’s state capital, as Pier or Peer. Pierre is located in the center of the state, along the east bank of the Missouri River in the middle of the Great Plains. According to the 2000 United States census, 15,867 people live in the Pierre area including Fort Pierre across the Missouri River. Meriwether Lewis and William Clark led the United States Corps of Discovery up the Missouri River in 1804, and first encountered the Lakota people, whom Lewis and Clark called the Teton Sioux, at the mouth of Bad River, in present-day Fort Pierre. In 1832, Pierre Chouteau, Jr. with the American Fur Company established a fort named after him near the Bad River. People dropped the Chouteau Jr. so it became Fort Pierre. Pierre stuck for the name of the small town across the Missouri River founded in 1878.

Virginia Polytechnic Institute and State University also known as VPI or Virginia Tech is located at Blacksburg in Virginia’s Appalachian Mountains. Virginia Tech began as a small college in 1872 and now is a university with eight colleges and graduate schools. Over twenty-five thousand students attend Virginia Tech, which is one of the top research institutions in the country. Virginia Tech’s mascot is a turkey—Virginia Tech, home of the Fightin’ Gobblers. You have to fight if your mascot is a turkey. The other Virginia Tech nickname is Hokie. If you want to know more about the Fightin’ Gobblers and what a Hokie is see Appendix D.

On June 22, 1844, fifteen Yale sophomores formed the Delta Kappa Epsilon fraternity (DKE). DKE brothers, also known as Dekes, combine in equal proportions the gentleman, the scholar, and the jolly good fellow. Five Presidents have been Dekes: Rutherford B. Hayes, Theodore Roosevelt, Gerald R. Ford, George H.W. Bush, and George W. Bush. Admiral Robert Peary, the first man to reach the North Pole, was a Deke. Alan Bean, the fourth man to walk on the Moon carried the DKE flag there.

Four underclassmen founded the Sigma Alpha Chapter of Delta Kappa Epsilon at Virginia Tech as an independent fraternity, Delta Kappa Sigma (DKS) on April 21, 1941. The father of one of the brothers, Billy Vinyard, in 1968 backed a loan so DKS could buy its current off-campus residence at 302 East Roanoke Street. On February 6, 1971, Delta Kappa Sigma became the Sigma Alpha Chapter of Delta Kappa Epsilon. Spring of 1970, I pledged and became a brother.

Sunday, September 23, 2001.

After talking it over with Liz, I decided to attend the DKE sixty-year celebration which was to be held October 5 through 7, 2001. It was a last minute decision since the celebration was less than two weeks away. Many factors contributed to my decision to go. Our daughter, Becky, had settled in for her first year of college at South Dakota State University in Brookings. Our son, Chris, was doing well as a sophomore in high school. I was fifty years old, and not getting any younger—okay; call it mid-life crisis. My dad had died from a brain tumor when he was fifty years old. I thought about that a lot. I had now lived longer than he had. How much time did I have left? Finally, fraternity brothers were bombarding me with e-mail such as:

We’re expecting you to FINALLY make an appearance in Blacksburg, like the weekend of Oct. 5-7th!—Hank Mattox

And;

Just heard from Charlie Lloyd, who is coming to the 60th. He said you were on the fence, so I thought I might give you a push. Have you seen the list of folks who are coming? I think you will see a very healthy turnout from the brothers from the early 70’s.—Theta Bowden

My preferred mode of travel to Blacksburg was to take a commercial airline flight to Roanoke, Virginia, rent a car, and drive west through the mountains to Blacksburg. I checked the Internet travel web sites. To my dismay, airline flights were expensive—the lowest airfare was over nine hundred dollars.

I checked the railroads, but there were no passenger trains through South Dakota. The closest train was in Omaha, Nebraska. There were no passenger trains to Blacksburg, so travel by rail was out.

Dad, why don’t you drive? Chris suggested. Nice idea; but Liz was not going to go along because Becky was coming home for the Native American Day (Columbus Day) weekend. I was not excited about driving solo cross-country. I would have to stop at least once, get a motel room, and sleep.

However, I had a deeper, darker problem with driving solo. I have a driving-over-long-high-arching-bridges phobia. This is not good when crossing rivers such as the Missouri and Mississippi.

I am okay if I am riding. In fact, I enjoy riding across a bridge; but if driving, I tense up, break into a cold sweat, my heart races, and my brain seems as if it is shutting down. I shout at those in the car Talk to me! . . . No! Don’t talk! . . . Rub my back! . . . No! Don’t rub my back! . . . Put on some music! . . . Turn the radio off! When I reach the other side of the bridge, I let out a sigh, smile at everyone, and say, Well that wasn’t that bad was it? as they stare at me as if I am a madman.

Monday, September 24, 2001.

As I was taking a shower, slowly waking up to face the new workweek, a revelation came to me. Take the bus! A bus line passed through Pierre and there was a station in town.

I dressed, grabbed some breakfast, and fired up the computer. Staring at the screen while gobbling down cereal, I searched the Internet for the Greyhound Bus Line.

The Greyhound website had a trip planner. I plugged in the point of origin and departure date then the destination and return date. The trip planner calculated and showed departure and arrival times. It gave the bus transfers, and the cost of the trip. If I bought a supersaver ticket, I could take the bus from Pierre to Christiansburg, Virginia, for $138 dollars round trip. Christiansburg was eight miles from Blacksburg. I could not drive from Pierre to Christiansburg for that price. I surely could find someone to pick me up at the terminal and drive me to Blacksburg. Theta Bowden, good friend and fraternity brother, instantly came to mind.

Over lunch, I rushed home and called the local travel agency. They confirmed there were no cheaper airline tickets. I tried using my frequent flyer travel miles for a free ticket. I could fly free as far as Detroit, Michigan. Then I would have to pay for a ticket from there to Roanoke, Virginia. It cost five hundred dollars round trip and it was not the most direct or quickest way to get there. That did it. I would try to take the bus.

I dialed Greyhound Bus Line’s toll free number. The woman who took my call said if I wanted the supersaver ticket, I did not have enough time to buy it over the telephone with my credit card and have the ticket arrive in the mail before the bus left. She said I still had time to buy it at the local bus terminal. I could get the ticket right away; but I would have to pay for it with cash.

That sounded like a good deal. I made my decision. I would ride the bus. My excitement grew as I mentally transformed the trip into an adventure. Although it would take almost two days travel out and two days travel back, I had visions of a relaxing trip. I imagined sitting back in a comfortable reclining seat, leisurely watching the countryside flash by, reading, writing, or sleeping as the spirit moved me—a traveling mini-vacation on the bus.

Tuesday, September 25, 2001.

Over lunch, I called the Pierre bus station about buying tickets. I asked if I could stop by today at 5:00 p.m. after work. The man who answered the telephone said the bus station was only open for several hours each day and closed by 3:30 p.m. I would have to buy the ticket during my lunch hour tomorrow. I sent Theta Bowden an e-mail:

Okay! Okay! I’ll come, but on one condition—you pick me up at the Christiansburg bus station.

Theta replied:

Fantastic! I can certainly pick you up. There is a Greyhound Bus Lines phone number listed in the yellow pages with a street address of 2140 Roanoke Street, Christiansburg. Let me know the schedule and I’ll plan accordingly. Wow, a cross-country bus ride! Send me the details…

I responded:

Thanks Theta, I’ll take you up on your offer. I get in at 8:15 a.m. Friday morning. I’m sure I will be ripe after one day, 15 hours, and 25 minutes of riding buses. I have to leave Saturday at 5:10 p.m. in order to get home at 2:10 p.m. on Monday! Ah, the great bus trip across the heart of America.

Theta replied:

If you get a chance, send me your complete bus itinerary… it’ll kinda be interesting to know just how many buses it takes to get from Pierre to Christiansburg…

I responded:

. . . go to Greyhound’s website where you can create the trip and see the schedule. If I get delayed, I’ll try to call…

Theta replied:

. . . if I have put together the correct schedule from greyhound.com, your departure is at 3:50 p.m., and then you go on a scenic tour of approximately 20 cities of South Dakota, finally arrive in Sioux Falls at 9:05 p.m. From there you transfer for a trip to Omaha; transferring in Omaha for Kansas City; transferring in Kansas City for St. Louis, Nashville; and then riding all the way to Christiansburg. Almost 50 stops in 41 hours?

I responded:

You have the correct itinerary. I have this feeling you’re going to have a big wall map and stick in pins when you see I’ve reached a town.

Wednesday, September 26, 2001.

Over lunch, I drove to the bus station located at C.J.’s 66 gas station on Sioux Avenue, the main road through Pierre. The station was deserted except for the manager and me. He wrote by hand each bus ticket for each leg of the trip to Christiansburg and back to Pierre. I thought the bus lines would have had computerized ticketing by now. The station was quiet. A man walked in to buy cigarettes and a lighter. Travel items were for sale on the shelves and walls. I leafed through the pages of a special edition of the Sioux Falls Argus Leader newspaper devoted to the terrorist attacks on New York City and the Pentagon. When the man finished writing the tickets, I paid him $138 in cash.

Thursday, September 27, 2001.

During lunch, I visited the AAA office. I love their maps and travel books. I picked up maps of every state and major city I would be traveling through and travel books on all the states too. Once I arrived home, I spread the maps on the floor and traced the bus route.

Sunday afternoon, September 30, 2001.

I called my mother-in-law, Helen Swift, who lived in a nearby apartment complex.

"I was just thinking, I’m going to have