Kilroy is Alive and Well and Living in the Great Basin

During World War II, a strange little man stalked the alleys, roads, and buildings throughout the embattled areas of Europe who left his mark to show he had passed or bivouacked there. He had several names, depending on who drew this bit of graffiti upon the walls. It was Chad to the Brits, Foo to the Australians, and Kilroy to American GIs.

The mark was a simple drawing of a bald-headed man whose huge nose lapped over the top of a fence. His fingers grasped the fence on either side of his nose as he peered over it to view the world. Next to this portrait were the words: Kilroy was here!

While the WWII character has retired to parts unknown, evidence of passage still exists along roads, highways, and even rest stops throughout the American West. These Kilroys have left their mark in wild spaces and saloons, revealing their traditions and memorials. Pioneers left rock carvings to guide others coming behind them, such as names and dates engraved at the Register Cliff Historical Site along the Oregon Trail. (https://www.theclio.com/entry/104043).

Perhaps the oldest Kilroys were indigenous people who painted or pecked their stories on cliff faces and rocks. As far back as 12000 years ago, people have visited Grimes Point, southeast of Fallon, NV off Hwy 50 is an easily accessible turnoff to find petroglyphs. https://www.nvrockart.org/aan_pages/Grimes.html. You can see the ancient shoreline of Lake Lahontan high on the hillside where prehistoric people lived, hunted, and fished. The Spirit Mummy, human remains found on the site, were from pre-Columbian times and eventually handed over to the Fallon Paiute-Shoshone tribe for their stewardship.

Around the corner from Grimes Point stretches a playa that runs along Hwy 50 for several miles. Every summer, modern Kilroys gather basalt stones, whose reddish hue contrasts well against the shimmering white sands. "John Loves Mary" "John Loves Jennie" "John's a Jerk," for example, tells a story of love and betrayal in undoubtedly the shortest romance written. One patriotic soul spells out the opening lines of the Declaration of Independence to remind travelers of the ethos prominent Nevada. He repairs it diligently after heavy storms wash away the rocks. And of course, there is a tribute to someone named M high on the road cut inaccessible to storm erosion.

Two valleys further east is Middlegate Station, former stagecoach and Pony Express stop and current purveyor of the "Monster Burger." Like almost every rural saloon in Nevada, the ceiling is covered with dollar bills. People from all over the world have entered this saloon, leaving sign of their passage scribbled on deutschmarks, pesos, pound notes, and, of course, dollar bills. Pens on each table encourage patrons to leave their messages for other wanderers.

During one visit, we heard a waitress explain that it's okay to mark up dollar bills. "Possession is nine-tenths of the law. If that dollar is in your possession, you can do whatever you want with it. I studied law, so I know this is true." The patrons peered skeptically at each other and shrugged. "What the heck." And they scribbled away, reaching up to tack their dollars on the ceiling.

It's easy to reach Middlegate's ceiling. It's only about seven feet high. If you were to go to JTs Basque Restaurant in Gardnerville, though, you would undoubtedly marvel at the bills waving in the breeze upon their twelve-foot ceiling. This is where a silver dollar coin comes into play.

Owner Marie-Louise Lukenberry might even demonstrate how this old Basque method of paying one's tab is accomplished. She pierces a dollar bill with a thumbtack and wraps the bill around a coin. Then she lays this little package on her hand, tack facing upward. Over a lifetime of demonstrating this trick, Marie-Louise can stick the tack into the ceiling, securing the silver dollar in a safe place.

How does this pay for a picon or beer? Well, say you've just driven a herd of sheep in from a summer in the hills and have been paid. To ensure future tabs are honored, you will surrender your coin and currency while you still have it by performing this simple Basque ritual. Hundreds of bills hang from JTs ceiling which is bordered by a display of cowboy hats once worn by ranchers and sheepmen who were regulars at JTs.

Tacking dollars to ceilings throughout the West probably served the same purpose for miners and buckaroos in other towns. Nowadays, when everyone can just flip out the plastic, the ritual takes on a more ethereal aspect. It's the modern way of crying in the wilderness as we travel through the wide, wild, and intimidating expanses between one desert outpost and another. With some dots on the map no longer indicating a refuge that still exists, traveling through empty landscapes can scare the bejesus out of city folk.

It's nice to know that you've left some record of your existence for someone to find. It's like Jack Dawson's sexy drawing that Rose left in the safe on the Titanic. Without that proof of existence, he would've been nothing more than a figment of Rose's imagination.

Back at Middlegate, there is also a wall dedicated to any law enforcement officer who stops for lunch. Department patches from all over the country have made their way to this wall. This not only connects this community of first responders to each other; it makes them more a part of the larger community of travelers along this lonely highway. In the lower left-hand corner of the Middlegate photo is a portion of this display.

Speaking of a travelers community, none is more evident than the Shoe Tree just east of Middlegate Station. Hundreds of shoes have been thrown into this tree, following a tradition that was set decades ago by newly-weds who experienced their first argument as a married couple. The wife threatened to leave her groom who immediately took off her shoes and threw them into the tree. What more could they do but kiss and make up. This monument to love and travel suffered the act of vandals who cut down the tree. A requiem gathering was held soon thereafter where people told their stories about their shoes in the tree. The shoes were then gathered and thrown into a neighboring tree. You can't keep travelers from marking their passage.

In another example of first response camaraderie, there is a memorial plaque mounted on a stone stand near Walker, CA on Hwy 395. Years ago, during one of the annual wildfires that plague this community, three firefighters were killed when their bomber broke up and crashed. The plaque honors the loss of Steve Wass, Craig Labare, and Mike Davis, as well as other firefighters. Over the years, members of this brotherhood have stopped and draped tee shirts on the fence behind this turnout shrine. There's only so much space, and someone clears away the tees after a while. The tees keep coming, though, keeping that memorial alive and vital.

This plaque also collects coins from visitors, which is a custom often seen on military gravestones. The tradition became popular among Vietnam War veterans. Each coin has a special significance. A penny means you visited the grave. A nickel shows that you trained with the deceased. A dime indicates that you and the deceased served together. Most poignant, though, is the quarter, meaning the visitor was present when the person died. https://dma.mt.gov/MVAD/MVAD-Images/Coins-on-headstones-meaning.pdf

Drive further south on Hwy 395 and there's a gallery of Kilroy markers at the turnout overlooking Mono Lake. The guardrail provides a platform for travelers to paste stickers for all to see. Park stickers, business stickers, even odd sayings covering the rail that is about fifty feet long. Perhaps less personal than other markings, these advertisements establish the range of places and interests of travelers between Southern California and Reno. Lots of outdoor recreationists are involved here rather than those seeking a new home or honoring the dead.

Further down 395, the Dow (Villa) Motel in Lone Pine, used to house film crews and actors who made movies in the area for many years. In one room, there was an inscription scratched into the wall over the toilet: "Lynn 1938." Who knows, maybe despite renovations to the motel, it's still there. It would be a shame if it was removed. It's like a petroglyph in it's own right. And who was Lynn? Was he or she an actor or part of the camera crew?

If we venture into the hinterlands of the Great Basin, we'll find Kilroys who worked in the area. The lonely shepherd, whose company was maybe a faithful dog and a million sheep, dreamed of women and home. He carved his name and date on aspen trees and pictures of his dreams, some of which are far too pornographic to share here. Here's a good explanation from the North American Basque Organizations: https://nabasque.eus/arborglyphs.html. This is one of many we found while exploring the back country.

Finally, a very remote marker wasn't placed by the Kilroy himself, but by ham radio operators paying homage to Silent Key Bob Evans N6YMA. Located on Overland Pass West in the mountains north of Eureka, NV, this tiny cross has become an enigma for those not familiar with Bob.

He set up a mobile radio station to relay the progress of the Pony Express Re-Riders as they carried mail through Nevada every June. This high wind tunnel spot is where riders exchange the mochila with the mail from one horse to the other. The Re-Ride itself is an ethereal tribute to the young riders who risked their lives to carry letters from St. Joseph, MO to Sacramento, CA in 1861-62. These riders are like ghosts. If you spot a Re-Rider along Highway 50, wearing the uniform of scarlet shirt and brilliant yellow scarf, you would have seen one traveler too busy to leave a mark of passage.