The Road to Grace (The Walk) (6 page)

The interstate was dangerously busy, and most of the way I was forced to walk on the freeway’s uneven, cratered shoulder.

By late afternoon the traffic eased as the landscape turned dull and barren. Acres of trailer parks and the lack of trees rendered the scenery drab. I felt like I was in eastern Wyoming again. That is until I saw my first Wall Drug sign.

Wall Drug is a legend, a true American success story and a case study in the power of advertising. Any adman worth his salt knows about Wall Drug.

The Wall Drug story began in 1931, when Ted Hustead, a young pharmacist working in Canova, South Dakota, made the fateful decision to strike out on his own. With a three-thousand-dollar inheritance from his father, he and his wife, Dorothy, hopped in their Model T and began scouring the state for a store to purchase.

Their search led them to the small, desolate town of Wall, South Dakota—an area of the state Ted’s father-in-law described as “about as Godforsaken as you can get.” The town was not only in the middle of nowhere, but it was poor as well—the residents were mostly the impoverished survivors of the Great Depression. Wall was hardly the kind of place to start a successful business.

In spite of the obvious drawbacks, Ted and Dorothy
felt at home in the small town, largely due to the fact that it had a Catholic church where they could go to Mass every day. They prayed about their decision and, feeling divine guidance, decided to buy the struggling drugstore.

As the months, then years, passed, their drugstore floundered, constantly teetering on the brink of failure. In spite of his faith, Ted began to wonder if they’d done the right thing. He finally decided to give the store five more years. “Five good years,” he told his wife, “and if it doesn’t work by then …”

Dorothy was more optimistic. “In a few years Mount Rushmore will be finished,” she reasoned. “There will be a lot more traffic and business.”

She was half right. Every year the traffic that passed by Wall increased, but their business didn’t. Day after day the couple sat on the porch of their store and watched the cars drive by—few of them stopping in the dusty town.

Then, one day, Dorothy had an epiphany. Being in the middle of nowhere meant that all those people passing them by had been driving a long time across the hot, desolate prairie. “They’re thirsty,” Dorothy said. “They want water. Ice-cold water. And we’ve got plenty of ice and plenty of water.”

The next day, Ted painted several signs offering
FREE ICE WATER.
Then, following the model of the famous Burma Shave highway signs, he planted his signs every mile or so leading to their store. By the time he got back to their drugstore, people had already begun stopping for free ice water and Dorothy was running around like crazy trying to keep up with their other purchases.

Today, the world-famous drugstore draws millions of
visitors a year, up to twenty thousand visitors a day. Their advertising signs, like the one I’d just seen, were smaller than conventional billboards, but what they lacked in size they made up for in frequency, with appeals designed to reach everyone.

From the moment I saw that first sign, there was always a sign in view.

Get a Milkshake. Wall Drug

Get a Rootbeer. Wall Drug

Pretty Near. Wall Drug

Free Coffee & Donuts for Vietnam Vets. Wall Drug

Still a slave to an old advertising habit of mine, I took out my journal and began writing down the slogans. When I started my recording, I had already passed four signs and I was still more than forty miles from Wall.

By evening I had put in around nineteen miles through vast stretches of nothing but plains, fields, and Wall Drug signage. The last of the day’s light was beginning to fade, and I was looking for a place to camp when a car pulled up about fifty feet behind me. The door opened and Pamela got out. She thanked the driver, then shut the door.

“Alan,” she said.

Unbelievable
, I thought.
She’s the Energizer Bunny of stalkers
.

I postponed my plan to camp and continued to walk. Pamela followed. I walked perhaps another five miles until there was no sign of her—or anything else—except a lot of nothing and the Wall Drug signs. It was a warm night
and I rolled out my pad and sleeping bag under a freeway overpass. I wondered how Pamela was planning to spend the night.

The next morning I woke a little before sunrise. I looked around for Pamela but didn’t see her, though I was certain she was out there somewhere. I wondered how she was surviving. She had no provisions, no sleeping bag, no air mattress, just a simple ladies’ handbag and bad shoes.
Had she really slept on the road?

I ate two Pop-Tarts, a Clif Bar, and an apple, then set off for a new day of Wall Drug signs.

Wall Drug. Historical Photos

Wall Drug. 33 Miles to Go

All Roads Lead to Wall Drug

Western Wear. Wall Drug

Road Trip. Wall Drug

Sheriff on Duty. Wall Drug

Western Home Décor. Wall Drug

Wall Drug or Bust

6 foot Rabbit. Wall Drug

Buffalo Burgers. Wall Drug

Free Ice Water. Wall Drug

Be Yourself. Wall Drug

Badlands Maps. Wall Drug

Frosted Mug Beer. Wall Drug

Dig it. Wall Drug

After an hour of walking, I made out the figure of someone walking ahead of me in the distance.
Couldn’t be
, I thought.
Couldn’t be her
.

It was. Pamela was walking in front of me. Even from a distance I could see that her limping had increased.

I crossed to the opposite side of the road. When I was adjacent to her I could see how bad she looked. Her hair was matted and she looked pale.

“Please talk to me,” she said. “I’m begging.”

“Go home, Pamela.”

“I’m not quitting,” she said. “I don’t care if it kills me.”

“It might,” I said.

“Please.”

I kept on walking.

Wall Drug USA exit 110

Wall Drug Since 1931

Coffee 5 cents. Wall Drug

A Dakota Must See. Wall Drug

Refreshing Free Ice Water. Wall Drug

Around noon I stopped along the side of the road to eat a can of fruit cocktail, another Clif Bar, and my own invention, a beef jerky sandwich. The land was flat but with the exception of the signs, there was nothing as far as the eye could see, including Pamela.

Tourist Info. Wall Drug

Skinny Saloon. Wall Drug

It’s cool. Wall Drug

Experience Wall Drug Mining Co.

American Icon. Wall Drug

Kids Love Wall Drug

As I walked through the unvarying scenery my mind wandered. I wondered how Kailamai and Nicole were doing. Nicole was the woman who had taken me in after I was attacked near Spokane. Kailamai was a young runaway I had met shortly after near Coeur d’Alene, Idaho. I had introduced them to each other, and Kailamai was now Nicole’s roommate. It felt like months since I’d seen them. I counted back the days. Thirty-six days. Just thirty-six days. It felt like six months. At least.

I remembered that back in Spokane I had promised to
call my father every week. He had bought me a phone for that express purpose. I wasn’t sure whether I would have reception or not, but I stopped, took my cell phone from my pack, and turned it on. There were two bars. I held down on the number 1, calling my father. He answered before the second ring.

“Where are you?” he asked.

“Nowhere. I’m in South Dakota on Highway 90.”

“Did you pass Wall Drug yet?” he asked.

“You know about Wall Drug?” I asked.

“Everyone knows about Wall Drug,” he said. “It was in
Reader’s Digest
and
Life
magazine.” In my father’s world,
everyone
had read those magazines. Still did.

“No. But I’ve passed a bunch of their signs.”

“They’re famous for those signs. How are you?”

“I’m doing okay. And you?”

“You know me. Nothing changes.”

“Have you heard from Nicole?”

“Yes. We talk a couple times a week. She’s really a pleasant young lady. We’re taking things slowly. I got her into an IRA and some mutual funds.”

“How is she?” I asked.

“She’s doing great. She got that inheritance.”

“I didn’t mean financially,” I said.

“Oh. Well I wouldn’t know about that. She sounded well.”

“Did she mention Kailamai?”

“Who?”

“I guess not.”

“She asked about you. She wanted to know if I’d heard from you and how you’re doing.”

“Tell her I’m still walking.”

He laughed. “I’ll do that. If I didn’t know better, I’d say she sounds a little smitten.”

“With who?”

“Who do you think?”

I wasn’t sure how to respond so I changed the subject. “Something weird is happening. McKale’s mother …”

“Pamela,” my father said. I was surprised he knew her name. But of course he did. He and Sam had been neighbors for more than a decade.

“Right. Pamela,” I said. “She’s following me.”

“Following you? In her car?”

“On foot.”

“She’s walking with you?”

“Not with me. She’s following me.”

There was a long pause. “What does she want?”

“I’m not sure. She says she wants to talk to me.”

“About what?”

“No idea.”

“Why don’t you ask her?”

“I’m trying to avoid her.”

“I saw her at McKale’s funeral,” he said.

“I know. So did I.”

“Maybe you should just find out what she wants.”

“Maybe she should just go home,” I said.

He didn’t say anything. After a moment I said, “Remember that time you threw me that birthday party and we went to the zip line?”

“Yes. And that German girl got her hair stuck in the pulley.”

“She was Hungarian.”

“That’s right. What about it?”

“Thanks,” I said.

“For what?”

“For throwing me the party.”

He was quiet for a moment. “You’re welcome.”

“I’ll talk to you next week,” I said.

“Okay. Be safe.”

“Bye.”

I hung up the phone, stowed it in my pack, and kept walking.

Homemade Pie. Wall Drug

Fast Food. Wall Drug

Homemade Ice Cream. Wall Drug

Wall Drug as seen on CMT

5 cents Hot Coffee. Wall Drug

Western Wear. Wall Drug

Something to Crow About. Wall Drug

Homemade Donuts. Wall Drug

Free Coffee and Donuts for Honeymooners

That night I slept behind one of the Wall Drug signs—an advertisement for five-cent coffee. The road was flat and smooth, which made walking easy, but there were no services. Ted Hustead’s father-in-law was right,
this place was as “Godforsaken” as you’ll find on the planet. Fortunately I was prepared. I had asked about this stretch at the grocery store back in Rapid City and was told that there was nothing until Wall. I had packed several liters of water, which, in spite of the weight, I drank sparingly.