7 - "Real Fun" at the Lookout Inn

Joe Allen, former Lookout Inn bartender.

     In 1978, I wrote:

     We pulled into Hot Springs, a jumping town of 4000, and found a campground in the city - $3.00 a piece, our first payment for lodging. We showered and "hit the town" - first, the Pizza Pub. Pinball machines and no one there. We asked the waitri where to go for real fun. They directed us to the "Lookout Inn" atop a hill a few miles away, where there was a country band.

     We got there, pulled into an empty parking lot, heard the music, and went inside. There were two people at the bar and none in the main room. The band finished a song and the singer said, "We'll be right back after a short break - hope y'all catch our 9:00 show." There was a pool table so we got beverages and played with a couple of the band members. They were all from Boise playing their first gig at the Lookout, and enjoying themselves immensely. So Bruce and I applauded enthusiastically whenever they played. It was real applause; they were good: played "Up Against the Wall Redneck Mother" among others.

      Yesterday after I made camp, I once again prepared to "hit the town." I ran into Joe Allen, the proprietor, and told him I'd been here 40 years ago and had gone to the Lookout Inn. He smiled. "I used to tend bar there." He remembered the band from Boise, and said they played there often after that first night. Though he came up with the first name of the singer, he blanked on the name of the band.

      The Lookout Inn is long gone, and so is the Pizza Pub. But I had an excellent pizza at "Big Time" pizza and enough leftovers for two more meals.

       In 1978, after leaving Hot Springs, Bruce and I zipped through the Black Hills. I revisited them all.

       My first stop was Wind Cave National Park. In '78, we drove through but didn't take the tour. This time I took one. The underground cave is incredible, one of the largest in the world. The only opening that could fit a human was about 3' x 3' but somehow the Lakota discovered it, and it became a sacred site. In the late 1800's a teenager named Alvin McDonald spent several years mapping miles of the cave, with nothing but a candle to light his way and string to remember where he was. Thanks to the Civilian Conservation Corps during the Great Depression, it became a viable national park.

       I was promised lots of buffalo by the ranger at Custer State Park, who took my $20 bill … and the buffalo vanished in the air. I saw a handful at Windcave, but nary a one at Custer. I did, however, see plenty in 1978; here I am stalking them stealthily:

      From there I went on to Mt. Rushmore along US Route 16A, one of the most breathtaking routes I have ever taken. Strategic design permits Rushmore to come into view along certain bends and even through tunnels. I stopped to get this one:

     The weather was misty and fog was rolling in, but I didn't think much of it. Until I actually got to Mt. Rushmore, and this is what I saw:

          The ranger who snapped this photo told me that some tourists blame the Park Service for the fog. Once, a woman had even berated him, suggesting that the Park Service hire helicopters to dissipate the mist. Now I'm no expert, but I don't believe that it's a good idea for helicopter pilots to fly next to mountaintops when they can't see a thing. And even if they could, I suspect Mother Nature would be unmoved by the whirling blades.

       But, I understand their frustration if they've come a long way. I was lucky enough to see it once, and I believe it looks pretty much the same:

           

     My next stop was (like Mt. Rushmore) something still there - and going strong since the '50's. That would be the Cosmos Mystery Area. I wrote in 1978:

     The Cosmos was billed as "nature gone berserk - where the very laws of nature are defied at every turn." It was situated on a steep, woodsy hillside. There was a short walkway with a few platforms leading to an extremely crookedly built cabin. We paid our $2 and undertook the tour. The tour guide was a wizened old salt with a wispy white beard and a polished routine.

     The first zany example of nature gone berserk was a level concrete platform so that if 2 people stood on each end, the one in a certain position would always appear taller.

     The guide then took us to the cabin, which was built to such a slant that nature's influence was overshadowed by the architect's. For instance, the guide rolled a tennis ball seemingly up an incline so that it certainly appeared to roll up in that tilted cabin. Someone in our group commented that the effect was "crazy." Our guide deadpanned, "Everything's crazy in the Cosmos."

      When I arrived today, in a cold drizzle, I was the only one there for the 3 PM tour ($11 today). I showed them the photos above. Christie, my guide, smiled with immediate recognition. "That's Lyle Scandret. He was hired by the original owners to be the curator in the early 60's, and continued leading guides until just before he died 3-4 years ago (at the age of 85). His daughter then ran it until last year."

       Well here's to you, Lyle. That's a career to be proud of. You have managed to endure in our memories after 40 years, and to this day have given Bruce and I the go-to line, "Everything's crazy in the Cosmos."

       Here're me and Christie today. Note the same background. You be the judge if this is nature gone berserk:

      Well, with the rain today and snow in the forecast for tomorrow, after watching a re-enactment of the murder of Wild Bill Hickok in Deadwood, SD, I decided to upgrade tonight's campsite:

            I swear I did not ask for the cowgirl/biker theme.

Tomorrow: Like Wild Bill, we (almost) get shot at a poker game.