Route 66: Illinois ties to the devil's rope, an infamous gap and a Texas-sized challenge in the Panhandle

Chicago Tribune

19-06-2025

AMARILLO, Texas — Two other men had come before him that Thursday night in June. Both failed.
But 37-year-old Clint Gee of Lawton, Oklahoma, was confident heading into The Big Texan Steak Ranch's 72-ounce steak challenge.
Contestants in this six-decade-long culinary quest are seated at a rectangular table on a stage in front of the restaurant's open kitchen, with its grill covered in sizzling meat. Above them, a digital clock is set to 60 minutes, the deadline for consuming a 72-ounce (4.5 pounds) steak and shrimp cocktail and a baked potato and a salad and a roll.
Victory means a free meal and their names enshrined in the restaurant's hall of fame. Defeat costs $72 and comes with a T-shirt consolation prize and a to-go box for leftovers.
Gee, a sales rep at a lumber company, had a plan. He would start with the side dishes before attacking the steak.
'My wife and I love watching those food challenges on TV,' he said as he prepared to take his seat. 'This is a bucket-list item.'
Route 66 extends nearly 180 miles across the Texas Panhandle, starting in the ghost town of Glenrio, which straddles the border between Texas and New Mexico. About 20 miles east, the town of Adrian advertises itself as the route's midpoint, equidistant to Chicago and Los Angeles.
The road passes vast farm fields, undulating grasslands dotted with towering wind turbines and sprawling cattle ranches before entering Amarillo, the Panhandle's largest city. At its western edge sits one of Route 66's most photographed attractions: Cadillac Ranch.
Ten Cadillacs, buried nose-deep, rise at an angle from a patch of dirt and gravel surrounded by knee-high grasses near Interstate 40 and twin billboards for an Indian restaurant and an adult novelty store. Visitors to this 51-year-old art installation are encouraged to spray paint the cars — a nearby stand sells souvenirs and spray paint, though people can bring their own or share with others. The fumes waft into the parking lot, as does the sound of cans rattling.
'This is to me what Route 66 is all about: All the strange things in life,' said Australian Dennis Mitchell, 79, who stopped at the ranch with an international tour group. '
A little over 50 miles east of Amarillo sits the ghost town of Jericho. In its first 10 years of existence, Route 66 ran, unpaved, through town. Rain turned the dirt road into a mire that trapped vehicles, earning that stretch the nickname 'Jericho Gap.' It's said that the money locals made from pulling stranded cars out of the mud was enough to inspire some to water the gap in hopes of additional revenue.
Today, the dirt road still turns to mud when it rains — tire tracks were still visible on a Friday in June, days after a storm.
Follow our road trip: Route 66, 'The Main Street of America,' turns 100
Blair and Blanca Schaffer purchased 80 acres of the town in 2020. They have a small farm on part of the land, growing summer vegetables and flowers to sell to shareholders of their community supported agriculture. The couple recently launched a foundation to help them preserve the town's few remaining structures, an old motor court and a farmhouse.
'I didn't know this was gonna be my calling,' said Blanca Schaffer, 53. 'I really didn't. And I feel like it's a calling. We're here. It's just a love and passion for the history of Route 66.'
Continuing east of Jericho, the Route 66 town of McLean boasts a museum, opened in 1991 in a former brassiere factory, dedicated to barbed wire — the devil's rope, as it's often called.
There are apparently more than 5,000 varieties of barbed wire. Each is differentiated by the way and direction the wire is twisted and the type of barb used, said curator Leigh Anne Isbell.
Joseph Glidden, a New Hampshire native who later moved to DeKalb and donated the land on which Northern Illinois University sits, is credited with being the 'grandfather of barbed wire.' His 1874 barbed wire patent sparked a legal battle with other barbed wire patent holders (including another DeKalb man, Jacob Haish) that eventually landed with the U.S. Supreme Court, which ruled in Glidden's favor.
Back at The Big Texan, Gee's attempt to conquer the 72-ounce steak quickly fizzled. Perhaps dazed by the enormity of the challenge, he abandoned his plan to tackle the side dishes first and, instead, seemed to settle into a leisurely $72 dinner with leftovers and a T-shirt.