SELIGMAN, Arizona Cars and trucks loaded with their owners’ material belongings arrived out of nowhere and in large numbers. When those hundreds of thousands of Dust Bowl migrants passed through his small community on Route 66 as a youngster, Angel Delgadillo was looking forward to working on farms so productive that people said fruit fell from the trees in California.
At night, he and his pals would dash to a nearby building and wait for the shadows made by the headlights of passing cars on the white stucco wall. As the automobiles got closer, they danced and observed how their shadows changed.
And he recalled that our shadows accompanied a car as it drove away.
John Steinbeck referred to Delgadillo’s 98 years of life as “the mother road,” or “the road of flight.” He was raised on the route with his eight siblings. He attended a barber college in the Route 66 town of Pasadena, California, and then worked as an apprentice for two years at a barbershop in another Route 66 town, Williams, Arizona, which is forty-three miles east of his home. After that, he returned to Seligman to manage his parents’ barbershop and pool hall.
Most people think that if it weren’t for Delgadillo, there probably wouldn’t be a centennial to commemorate as Route 66 enthusiasts anticipate the famous route’s 100th anniversary next year.
He smiled as he sat in his barbershop chair on a Friday in June and remarked, “They’re right.”
Follow our road trip: Route 66, The Main Street of America, turns 100
Before Seligman and other towns along Arizona’s Route 66 corridor were bypassed by Interstate 40, an estimated 9,000 automobiles drove through Seligman every 24 hours, according to Delgadillo. He remembered that it was approximately 2:30 p.m. on September 22, 1978.
How can you forget the moment when you lose something so significant as your livelihood? “I said.” Hear me out: We were aware that we would be bypassed, but we were unaware of how disastrous it would be. We were simply forgotten by the world. We were unknown to the county authorities. It seemed as though the federal government, state officials, and highway officials advised us to swim out of the situation if possible, Angel. Drown if you can’t.
Companies closed. Individuals departed. Delgadillo, his wife Vilma, and their four kids contemplated following suit.
Seligman was on his way to its tomb.
He described the moment as being quite depressing. The first was rather depressing. Then I became quite irate.
After that, he took action.
In February 1987, he established the Historic Route 66 Association of Arizona with the assistance of his older brother Juan, who constructed the Seligman institution Delgadillo’s Snow Cap, and others. They urged state transportation officials to intervene and protect the corridor in letters. They were initially disregarded.
However, he said, those huge lads in Phoenix had no idea who they were facing.
By November of the same year, 83 miles of Route 66 between Seligman West and Kingman were recognized as historic roads by the state’s transportation department. By applying constant pressure, Delgadillo’s association was able to persuade the state to add further miles.
The state now recognizes the entire route as a historic road, and Arizona has the longest uninterrupted section of Route 66 in the nation, extending from the California border to Ash Fork, which is about 160 miles to the east.
You lose when you battle the government. “You lose if you go to city hall and try to convince them,” Delgadillo remarked. We were successful in our battle against the state government. We, the populace.
Soon after, Delgadillo began receiving calls from potential preservationists in the other seven states that the route passes through. They were interested in learning how to keep their sections of the road safe.
He told them to form their association.
Thanks to Delgadillo’s efforts, Seligman is now known as the birthplace of historic Route 66, and Delgadillo is now known as the route’s guardian angel. The barbershop inside the Route 66 souvenir shop that bears his and his wife Vilma’s names is now a sort of shrine to his and his family’s legacy; he retired from hair cutting a few years ago.
Travelers from all over the world who are on Route 66 come to visit Seligman. These days, kids are more likely to witness a life-sized cardboard cutout of his image. He is soon around by people who want to take their photos with him when he does stop by, like as that Friday in June.
“They seem to have known me for ages,” he remarked, laughing. It’s too much to handle. They are really appreciative. It is astounding.
He still contributes to the celebration of his cherished town and route after retirement. After his grandparents’ Seligman diner on Route 66 was demolished, he began constructing birdhouses from of lumber that was 100 years old.
Every birdhouse has a unique number. He finished at number 268 last week. For another thirty, he has enough wood.
The gift shop sells them for $100.66. In anticipation of the centenary next year, the profits will be used to assist Seligman in building welcome signs for Route 66 at each end of town.
Go here to read the sixth dispatch, A Neighborhood at Peril in Albuquerque >>>
