American Festivals Project

“Where am I?”–The question I asked myself while driving long stretches of empty landscapes and quiet, vacant towns.  Middle America.  I had just put in a twelve hour day of driving, combined with a four hour tinkering session with the veggie oil system.  I was tired.  I had left Virginia in haste.  Back on the road though…that was a good feeling.  My destination was Ainsworth, Nebraska, the site of “The middle of nowhere celebration”.  What exactly would happen there–I wasn’t sure.  I figured it would either be so dull that it would make for really good photographs, or it would be something tackily American and generic, making for a poor photo essay.  Looking back, it might have come in between the two.

Sleepy Bassett, NE.

I had driven through the windy interstates of West Virginia, past the dense exits in Kentucky with gas stations and every kind of fast food restaurant you can shake a stick at.  I slept in a visitors center parking lot somewhere just past St. Louis and started the next day pluggin’ my way through Missouri.  Finally, the country began to open up and I felt the big skies swallow me up.  I glided into Iowa, and finally, crossed the border into Nebraska.  After a few hours, the suburbs and developments disappeared and I was soon in the middle of nowhere.  Each town I encountered as I got closer to Ainsworth became increasingly sleepy–like an evil witch had cast a great spell over the vacant streets and quiet houses.  One of the towns I encountered was Bassett, NE, a town that was once the cattle capital of the country, but now is struggling to stay alive.  I ate at a diner in the center of town which turned out to have some real character.  It wasn’t until afterwards, when I was pumping veggie oil from the restaurant’s container, that I met some very friendly, local folks.  It turned out to be the mayor and his wife.

The picture that the mayor took.  “You email it to me and I’ll put it in our town newspaper,” he said.

I entertained Mr. Williams with the basic info on running veggie oil while he told me some really interesting information about the town.  As sleepy as it looked, there was some real excitement going on.  Just a few weeks prior, a case of TB was discovered in some cattle at a nearby ranch.  It threatened the hundreds of thousandths of cattle that populated the area and provided the income for a majority of the area’s residents.  The State was called in.  The rancher’s were forced to freeze the selling of their cattle.  Many people were upset and worried.

Then there were tornadoes.  Mr. Williams told me about the local fire chief who drove his truck out to the prairies to watch for lightning that might spark a fire.  He was greatly surprised when a tornado touch down right above him, picked up his truck, turned it completely around and sat him down facing the other way on the road.  The man was not even bruised.

The mayor of Bassett, NE, Mr. Gary Williams sitting in the town’s local restaurant that is co-owned by the town’s residents.   Gary’s wife volunteers her time to keep the restaurant running.  Gary had come in that day to help do dishes.   Later he told me, “You have to keep a town like Bassett going.  When an establishment like this restuarant (and hotel) closes, it effects the entire town and soon you’ll see other places closing.  Everybody has to work together to keep this town alive.”  On the wall is an old photograph of cowboys rounding up cattle–when Brown County was in its heyday.

I have to say that Ainsworth had a bit more going on than Bassett, although without the character.  Coming into town, I noticed the sign that greets visitors.  “Ainsworth, country music capital!”  I thought that was strange, and still think it is strange, because I never heard or saw one thing about country music.  When I arrived in town on Saturday morning, the local park was buzzing.  People were lining up for the parade; last minute adjustments were being made to the floats.  I had come on reunion weekend, so each float had a different graduating class.

The main street of Ainsworth was lined with expectant onlookers.  Some looked like they had dropped their morning chores from the farm to come and watch the parade.  The fire truck sounded in the distance, and those that were sitting got up in excitement.  The entire parade lasted a total of 15-20.  I think the highlight was the antique car that twirled around in circles while shooting out plooms of smoke.  Just as quickly as the parade began, the streets began to empty.

Within minutes, the main street was silent again, except for the lone truck that passed by every few minutes.  I imagined everyone going home to their quiet houses and taking a nap.  In the middle of nowhere, that was enough excitement for the day, and everyone was exhausted.

Middle of Nowhere celebration from American Festivals Project on Vimeo.