You Still Here

[{"type":"text","text":"Better than Evel Knievel..."}]

One more for 6 8 23 copy

Cowboy State Daily is Wyoming’s largest newspaper with Wyoming’s most experienced journalists. 

<title>You Still Here? Thursday, June 8, 2023 | Cowboy State Daily</title>

Better than Evel Knievel...

You Still Here? Thursday, June 8, 2023

Headshot of Cowboy State Daily's business and tourism reporter, Renée Jean

Renée Jean

Wyoming Life

Larry Morgan was born in Superior, Wyoming, in the 1940s, the son of a coal miner. Eventually, he landed in Jackson Hole, well enough off that he could build his dream mountain home.

His friends call him “The Closer.” He’s a corporate dealmaker, high-stakes sales producer and, lately, a self-described best-selling author on Amazon with a book revealing how he made his fortune.  

Despite all that, Morgan doesn’t think of his story as a true rags-to-riches tale — though he’ll acknowledge it’s an arc that’s hard to ignore. 

“I never really saw myself as being poor, although my family was very poor,” he told Cowboy State Daily. “My father owned a tiny little cafe in Iowa, and we barely made a living. He always said, ‘We don’t make any money, but we eat good'.”

[{"type":"text","marks":[{"type":"textStyle"},{"type":"bold"}],"text":"A Dusty Old Chevy"}]

Superior today is a semi-ghost town in Sweetwater County. His family didn’t stay there long.  

“My father was a coal miner during the war,” he said. “It was a strategic occupation.”

Two cave-ins later, though, and he was rethinking that strategy. The family packed up and moved to Charlton, Iowa, where he started a cafe. 

“I always liked to work,” Morgan said. “So, when I was probably 12,  he hired me to be the dishwasher. I had to stand on a pop crate to reach the sink and wash the dishes. But he paid me 35 cents an hour, which was the going wage for an adult.”

It didn’t take Morgan long to realize if he wanted to achieve his dream of owning a car when he turned 16, he needed a better-paying job. So, he kept washing dishes but also took a job at the nearby bowling alley. 

“I made real good money in the bowling alley,” he recalled with a chuckle. “I got paid for every line. This was back before automatic pinsetters, so you had to set each one by hand.”

At the end of the night, he could usually count on some fairly large tips, but it was a grueling schedule.

“I went to work at 5 in the morning in the cafe and worked until 8 a.m.,” he said. “Then I went to school and worked at the bowling alley until midnight.”

Before too long, Morgan had saved the $80 he needed to buy a dusty old Chevy — his first car.

Morgan loved living in Iowa. He was in a small rural town he describes as just a few blocks apart, stitched together with the wonderful smell of freshly mowed hay. 

It was a great place to grow up. It was a great place to “be from.” 

But, if he wanted to make the kind of living that would afford a life, he realized it was not a great place to “be.”

For that, he decided he needed to attend college. Which meant he needed an even better-paying job than dishwashing and tips from the bowling alley.

That led him to become what he says was probably the “world’s youngest” encyclopedia salesman.

[{"type":"text","marks":[{"type":"textStyle"}],"text":"No, not Britannica, the top seller. "}]

It was a smaller, lesser-known company called World Book. 

“Most of the encyclopedia salesmen worked in cities,” Morgan said. “The doors are close together … but the trouble was most of those people didn’t have money or didn’t read books.”

Traditional salesman advice says that to get to a “yes” you have to listen to a lot of “nos.” But Morgan didn’t want to indiscriminately knock on doors. 

Every “no” felt too much like a bullet to his heart. He needed a better system. 

“The World Book was designed for children,” Morgan said. “So I started cruising around my little hometown, and if I saw a bunch of bicycles in the yard, I knew I had a buyer because they had kids.”

But, he realized, that wasn’t enough to ensure a yes. He also needed to make sure the family could afford an encyclopedia.

That started him looking for not just bikes but Buicks as well. A family with a Buick in the driveway had money. And a family with both a bike and a Buick had a child on which that money could be spent. 

Morgan also styled his approach so that he was practically closing the deal at the beginning of the sale rather than the end.

“I’d just walk up, knock on the door, and introduce myself,” he said. “And my opening line was, ‘Would you be interested in something that would help your children in school?’ Well, boom, what mother’s not interested in something that will help her children in school?”

[{"type":"text","marks":[{"type":"textStyle"},{"type":"bold"}],"text":"The Multiplier Effect"}]

Once the sale had been made, Morgan then did something else that ratcheted up his success. He would always ask the woman if she knew any other mothers who might also want their children to have the “World Book advantage.”

That usually produced a nice list of likely prospects, where he had a better than average shot at making more sales.

In no time, this thoughtfully targeted approach made him the company’s top salesman and he became, in his own words, the “richest kid in town.” 

This job didn’t just take him to college. It took him there in style. He had plenty of money to trade in his old Chevy for a shiny new Oldsmobile convertible.

He didn’t know it yet, but he’d learned everything he was ever going to need to succeed in sales beyond his wildest dreams. Later, he’d use those same principles to close multi-million-dollar deals.

[{"type":"text","marks":[{"type":"textStyle"}],"text":"First, though, came a few wrong turns."}]

[{"type":"text","marks":[{"type":"textStyle"},{"type":"bold"}],"text":"Learning The Wyoming Way"}]

Navigating past those wrong turns is something Wyoming helped Morgan with. 

“The most influential character in my life was my uncle, Ken Shelton,” Morgan said. “He lived in Rock Springs and was a real cowboy.”

When Morgan was 13, he ran away to Rock Springs to spend a summer and part of another year with his uncle. They’d go up to White Mountain to catch wild horses, fish and tell jokes.

Shelton was one of the best storytellers Morgan has ever known. 

“For Uncle Ken, his stories didn’t have to end up the way they actually did,” Morgan said. “But they always ended up the way they should have. And that’s the way he viewed life.”

Morgan’s favorite Uncle Ken yarn is about the time he was roping wild horses on White Mountain a bit too long. He caught a wild mustang just as the sun set, was bucked off in the dark, and ended up tangled in his own rope as a storm rolled in.

He saw a nearby cave for shelter, but what he couldn’t see inside that cave was the mountain lion living there.

“Before he manages to finally strangle the mountain lion to death it bites off three of his fingers,” Morgan said. “Now, even the casual observer is aware that my uncle has all of his fingers. But when I brought that up, he says, ‘Yes, and that’s another amazing story, but I’m trying to finish this one!’ ”

Morgan sums up the wonderful lessons he learned from his story-telling uncle in a chapter he called “Never Sell Your Saddle” in his bestselling Amazon book, “The Closer: An Inside Look at the World of High-Powered Sales, Big Money and Big Egos.” 

“The chapter ends up being a warning to people who are about to merge with a larger corporation and, for a few dollars, sell their life’s work,” he said. “They find themselves with nothing to do … In other words, don’t be quick to sell your saddle. Life’s a long, long ride.”

[{"type":"text","marks":[{"type":"textStyle"},{"type":"bold"}],"text":"The Professor"}]

A long ride is often filled with a few wrong turns. For Morgan, his first wrong turn took him to Northeast Missouri State University in Kirksville.

“I was really captivated by academia,” Morgan said. “And I’d always wanted to be a college professor. To do that, you pretty much had to have a Ph.D.”

Knowing that, he took an extra-heavy class load, determined to earn both a bachelor’s and a master’s at the same time. 

“But the Vietnam War was going on,” he said. “And I had a very low lottery number.”

This all but guaranteed he’d get drafted into the Army. So, he took control of his own destiny by pre-emptively enlisting in the Marines. 

Like many who served in Vietnam, Morgan doesn’t talk about it much. 

“We’re all still conflicted over the Vietnam War, and so am I,” Morgan said.

After the war, he returned to his education, earning his Ph.D. at St. Louis University in child psychology — a notable accomplishment in and of itself, particularly given he was the first person in his family to even graduate from high school.

But it didn’t take long for him to realize his dreams of being a professor had been something of a fantasy. He taught for a year at the University of Wyoming, and was bored.

To solve that problem, he tried an administrative position in Southern California — and that was even worse.

Somehow, in spite of his best intentions, he had not landed in the right profession at all. 

[{"type":"text","marks":[{"type":"textStyle"},{"type":"bold"}],"text":"A New Door Opens"}]

The solution came from a little problem known as San Diego traffic.

He was stuck in a sea of cars for 10 miles. 

So, he turned on the radio and became a captive audience as a booming voice emerged from his speakers offering him a free trip to Lake Tahoe. All he had to do was look at a recreational land development.

“Free is a powerful word,” Morgan said with a chuckle. “So I went home and called the 800 number and then my wife and I decided to take the trip. We got the free trip to Tahoe, and that was the first time in my life I ever met a professional, hard-close salesman.”

The project, Tahoe Donner, was being developed by a larger-than-life entrepreneur named Justin Dart.

“He started Rexall Drugs and Tupperware and Vanda cosmetics,” Morgan said. “It was all pretty exciting.”

The property was rustic elegance of the kind that whispered wealth and success. It was electrifying.

In the beginning, the sales pitches were all low-key. But soon, pushier salesmen took turns convincing Morgan and his wife to buy. 

“You accepted our free trip,” one of them said. “You said you could afford the price, and you agreed that if everything we told you lived up to what you saw, you would make a decision to buy before returning to San Diego. Isn’t that true?”

Morgan was reaching for his checkbook when his wife, Connie, interrupted.

“We didn’t say we’d make a decision to buy,’” she told the salesman. “We said we’d make ‘a decision.’”

The property was great, she added, but just too far away.

On the way back, one of the salesmen, named Cal Hackett, offered Morgan a new deal.

“I’ll give you $250 for every lead you give me that buys,” Morgan recalled. “I was making $1,000 a month at the college. Four leads is a thousand dollars.”

Morgan had a cushy, safe job so he wasn’t sure about taking that offer. But he was also bored.

Once home, he noticed an ad in the Sunday paper that talked about selling real estate in Lake Tahoe for $50,000 a year.

“I thought to myself, this can’t be a coincidence,” Morgan said. “This must be the project that I just visited. And $50,000 a year is a lot more than $1,000 a month.”

[{"type":"text","marks":[{"type":"textStyle"}],"text":"Morgan decided to answer the ad."}]

“When I called, they said, ‘Are you interested in selling some real estate in Lake Tahoe?’” Morgan recalled. “And I said, ‘Well, actually, I’ve just been up there. I just visited a project at Tahoe Donner.”

The recruiter wondered if Morgan had purchased a lot. When Morgan said, “no,” the recruiter seemed delighted. 

“They thought that I meant I understood the project, but wouldn’t have to be talked out of my own lot,” Morgan said. “They figured I wanted to send them leads.”

“I said, ‘No, no, I don’t want to send you leads. I want to sell it myself. I want to be the guy doing what that salesman was doing,’” he said.

At first, the recruiter was interested by that idea. Until he found out Morgan didn’t have a real-estate license.

“His welcoming demeanor quickly evaporated,” Morgan said with a chuckle. “So I went off and got a real-estate license and then I started selling recreational land.”

That development has since turned into one of the largest homeowners associations in the United States, Morgan said.

“And I very quickly became the top salesman,” he added. “I was making probably six, seven grand a month and you could buy a new car for $5,000 back then. So that’s what really got me hooked.”

[{"type":"text","marks":[{"type":"textStyle"},{"type":"bold"}],"text":"Becoming A Ski Bum"}]

The real pivot in Morgan’s life didn’t come from a commission check, though. It came from a paperback book he picked up at random because the title intrigued him. It was called “How I Found Freedom in an Unfree World,” written by Harry Browne.

[{"type":"text","marks":[{"type":"textStyle"}],"text":"Morgan came away with one main point. "}]

“Having a lot of money won’t make you free,” Morgan said. “But being free gives you the opportunity to make a lot of money.”

Within six months of reading the book, Morgan quit his job, divorced his wife, and hit the road to see the world.

“I became what I jokingly call a ski bum with money,” he said. “I skied all over the world. I traveled. I did whatever I wanted to do.”

Larry Morgan The view at Larry Morgans mountain home in Jackson Hole 7 12 26

<title>From Wyoming Coal Miner’s Son To Closer: How Larry Morgan Achieved The American Dream | Cowboy State Daily</title>

Born in a near ghost-town in Wyoming, Larry Morgan’s life is a rags to riches story that begins and ends in Wyoming. Yet he insists the real story isn’t about money so much as freedom — and he's got a best-selling book on Amazon that tells his tale.

From Wyoming Coal Miner’s Son To Closer: How Larry Morgan Achieved The American Dream

Headshot of Cowboy State Daily's Feature Reporter, Andrew Rossi.

Andrew Rossi

Entertainment

Howard Winchel “Hawk” Koch is a Hollywood legend. His credits include everything from “Chinatown” and “Marathon Man” to both of the “Wayne’s World" films.

Koch was the president of the Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences and the Producers Guild of America, and 

 Robert Redford and Edward Norton among his close friends.

Those were among the stories and self-reflections he shared, for one night only, at the Shell Bar.

Koch was invited to entertain Shell residents with an evening presentation on what he’s learned after decades working behind the scenes in the film industry. The small but engaged crowd hung onto every word of wisdom and anecdote, many of which he included in his 2019 memoir: “Magic Time: My Life in Hollywood.”

[{"type":"text","text":"“I can’t get you an Oscar, but I can get you my book,” he said."}]

Koch had been to Wyoming several times, but it was his first visit to Shell. He said he was amazed by the scenery and immediately felt at home among the ranchers and strangers in the audience.

“The people have been so lovely, and I can’t get enough of the views,” he told Cowboy State Daily. “I’ve made so many movies (in California), but also in New Mexico, Utah, and Colorado. To me, we’re all cowboys.”

[{"type":"text","marks":[{"type":"bold"}],"text":"First Time In The Saddle"}]

Koch started his Shell presentation by sharing his first experience on a movie set. It was in Durango, Colorado, when he was 

“My dad was making a movie up there,” he said. “I was a shy little kid who used to take my mother's dress and put it around my face so nobody would see me. After a 20-minute drive, I saw teepees. I saw cowboys and Indians, and this shy kid started running through the set.”

He didn’t know he was on the set of “Across the Wide Missouri,” released in 1951. 

A “Native American” approached the young Koch, put him on his lap, and told him “stories of many moons.” He was actually being entertained by Ricardo Montalbán.

Then, a cowboy rode up and asked Koch if he’d ever been on a horse. He hadn’t, so the cowboy set Koch in front of him and took him for a ride around the movie set.

Later that night, Koch’s father, Howard Winchel Koch, got to tell his wife their son had gotten his first horse ride with Clark Gable.

From that day, Koch loved the movies. As a result, he’s never worked a day in his life.

“It’s magical,” he said. “I love movies, and hopefully some of you do, too. I loved being on any movie set and in any movie theater. It’s magical for me.”

That was the partial inspiration for the title of Koch’s memoir, “Magic Time.” The other source was a direct quote from the legendary Jack Lemmon.

“I got to work with Jack Lemmon a couple of times, including ‘The Odd Couple,’” he said. “What I learned is that Jack could be talking to you, and if he heard ‘Roll camera,’ he would say, ‘Magic time,’ out loud, and would totally get into character. He could be talking about anything, and he’d get right back into character.”

Now, whenever Koch needs to concentrate, he repeats Lemmon’s line in his head.

[{"type":"text","marks":[{"type":"bold"}],"text":"'The Primal Scream'"}]

The first movie Koch worked on was 1966’s “This Property Is Condemned,” starring Natalie Wood and Redford, in one of his earliest films.

Koch, then 19, quickly made a big impression by quickly getting Wood out of her trailer.

“One of the first things I had to do was go get Natalie Wood from basecamp,” he said. “I knocked on her door and said, ‘We’re ready for you.’ She said, ‘Oh, I'll be out in a little while.’”

In an unexpected wave of inspiration, Koch told Wood that the cinematographer James Wong Howe had said to him, “The light is perfect.” That promptly got Wood out of her trailer and onto the set.

Since Wood “never got out of her trailer on the first ask,” Koch impressed his peers by doing just that. He had a comically cynical explanation.

“(Actors) are narcissistic and they like the way they look on camera,” he said. “I used that line on every actor for over 60 years.”

That film started Koch’s lifelong friendship with Redford. He recalled a road trip he took with the young actor, driving from Los Angeles to land the actor had “just bought” in Utah.

“I’m driving on a good road with no moon and a few stars when Redford says, “Pull off the main road.’ I asked why, and he said, ‘Just pull off the main road.’”

Koch obliged and drove down a dirt road until Redford grabbed the gear shift, put the car in park, and grabbed the keys.

“I am scared,” Koch said. “I'm looking for a knife. I'm looking for a gun. I don't know what's going on. He gets out of his side (of the car), and I get out of my side. We're both looking at each other over the hood of the car.”

Then, Redford started yelling at the top of his lungs. Koch called it “the primal scream.”

When he was done, Redford smiled, laughed, and threw the keys back to Koch.

[{"type":"text","text":"“Try it,” he said. “It'll de-stress you.”"}]

[{"type":"text","text":"Koch said that was “the night Robert Redford almost slit my throat.”"}]

Decades later, when Koch was president of the Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences, he was preparing to appear before thousands of people on stage at the Oscars. When he got a 15-minute warning, Koch followed his friend’s advice.

“I went outside the Dolby Theater and what did I do? I did a primal scream, and I came back in,” he said.

[{"type":"text","marks":[{"type":"bold"}],"text":"Have Fun"}]

Koch infused his anecdotes with wisdom that he hoped everyone in the Shell Bar, especially the younger folk, could take to heart.

“After 80 years of living, I've got a few ideas of maybe the things we all ought to do, and I'm sure most of you probably do the same things,” he said.

His experiences with Wood and Redford epitomized the idea to “have fun.” He was reminded of that during the production of “Wayne’s World.”

Koch brought his son, Robbie, to the set on the day they filmed the scene in which Mike Myers encounters Robert Patrick, making a cameo as the T-1000 from “Terminator 2.”

“It was a rehearsal,” Koch said “(Patrick) walks up to the car and says, ‘You were speeding.’ And Robbie, in front of the crews, the writer, the director, and Mike Myers goes, ‘Well, that’s not funny.’”

Myers, “to his credit,” asked Robbie why it wasn’t funny. Robbie pointed out that the T-1000 always carried a photo of John Conner, asking if anyone had seen him.

In the finished film, the T-1000 approaches Wayne with a Polaroid photo and asks Myers, “Have you seen this boy?” Wayne screams and speeds away.

[{"type":"text","text":"The boy in the Polaroid is Robbie, on set the same day as the shoot."}]

“Every time we’d go to a theater, it got a big laugh,” Koch said. “If you're not having fun in your life, find something else to do, because it goes by way too quickly. Way too quickly.”

[{"type":"text","marks":[{"type":"bold"}],"text":"Have Courage"}]

To emphasize the point “have courage,” Koch told the story about how firing Robert De Niro and losing his marriage led to a moment that defined his life and career on the set of “Marathon Man.”

In September 1975, Koch was working on his first film as a full producer, the ill-fated film “Bogart Slept Here.” It was slated to star De Niro in his third film, right after his Oscar-nominated performance in “Taxi Driver,” but there was a problem.

“De Niro didn't know how to do comedy, especially at that time,” he said. “It was directed by Mike Nichols, and if anybody’s funny, it’s Mike Nichols. But after two weeks of rehearsal, De Niro wasn’t funny.”

At one point, De Niro did such an intense Bela Lugosi impression, telling the young actress playing his daughter that he “wanted to suck the chocolate syrup from your veins,” that she ran off the set, terrified and yelling, “That man’s not my daddy.”

Nichols eventually pulled Koch aside to say he would not work with De Niro.

“I won't tell you what he actually said about De Niro,” he said. “I could see the steam coming out of his ears.”

After two weeks of trying to recast the role, nobody wanted to replace De Niro. The studio killed the film, which was eventually resurrected and released as 1977’s “The Goodbye Girl.”

When Koch told his wife what happened, fearing his career was over, she kicked him out of their home and immediately sought a divorce.

Koch was despondent, crashing on a friend’s couch, when he got a call from Robert Evans at Paramount, best known for his work on “The Godfather.” Things weren’t going well on the set of “Marathon Man.”

“Evans said they’d been shooting for 10 days and they were 10 days behind,” Koch said. “I asked what the problem was, and he said, ‘How the hell do I know? Why do you think I'm calling you?’ So, I got on a plane and flew to New York.”

[{"type":"text","text":"The problem was apparent to Koch after one day on set."}]

Director John Schlesinger couldn’t decide how to shoot the first shot on the day's schedule. Cinematographer Conrad Hall kept adding his own input, constantly derailing Schesinger’s decisions.

Then, actor Dustin Hoffman announced he couldn’t do the scene because “the dialogue sucks.”

Screwing his courage to the sticking place, Koch immediately called a meeting with Schlesinger, Hall, and Hoffman. He was professional but didn’t hold back.

“I said, ‘John, you're the director. You have to know what you want to shoot, for every shot and every moment. Connie, you have every right to make a suggestion, but John makes that decision, and that's the way we're going to work from now on,” Koch said.

Hoffman, from the other side of the trailer, asked, “What does this have to do with me?”

“Dustin, you have every right to have a problem with the scene – a week ahead of time,” Koch said. “You have no right on the day of shooting to say now you can't do the scene.”

Koch got an assistant director credit for “Marathon Man” when it was released in 1976. It was a financial and critical success that lost only one additional day to its 75-day shooting schedule.

“It changed my career because I had the courage without fear of knowing what I know,” he said.

[{"type":"text","marks":[{"type":"bold"}],"text":"Show Up"}]

One of Koch’s final points was the importance of “showing up,” just as he did in Shell.

“I can't tell you how many times I've shown up, and I've met somebody that was important in my life, or I learned something,” he said.

Shell resident Rosa Brooks became acquainted with Koch and his wife, Molly, through conferences they attended in Jackson Hole. She invited him to spend a few days in Shell and share his story.

“I grew up in a house with no TV, (so) I didn’t know anybody and nobody let me out much,” she said. “To the extent that I knew anything about the world of Hollywood, I thought it was all scary, intimidating, beautiful people. Hawk and Molly are incredibly warm, kind, curious people. They blew me away.”

Rancher Nolan O’Neal attended that evening because of the impact Koch's work had on his life.

“The movies he’s associated with were the most impactful movies you could imagine as a teenager at the time,” he said. “You need to go home and watch ‘Marathon Man’ and ‘Wayne’s World’ to grasp the work he did and how they comment on the value of society.”

Koch knows many people shrug off the cultural value of movies like “Wayne’s World,” but he doesn’t have the energy for cynicism.

“I've always tried to make a difference in my life,” he said. “I'm doing a lot of things that I'm hoping make a difference. The fact that some people will laugh or cry or scream because of things that I've had a part of is thrilling for me.”

[{"type":"text","marks":[{"type":"bold"}],"text":"Tell A Story"}]

Koch had many more anecdotes to share, including how he overcame being a rare “Jewish junior” and adopted his new name at his much-delayed bar mitzvah.

“I realized that I’d had my father’s name for 50 years, and I wanted my own,” he said. “I had three kids and a career in the motion picture business and got a Hebrew name for my 50th birthday.”

Koch shared one more important piece of wisdom he picked up from decades in Hollywood. It’s something he knows everyone can do and hopes more people find the courage and enjoyment within themselves to do it.

“Learn how to tell a story,” he said. “If you learn how to tell a story, you can be a director, a producer, a writer, a production designer, a cinematographer, a salesman, an engineer. I don't care what business you're in or what you want to do in your life. Learn how to tell a story, because that’s where it all started.”

Hawk Koch IMG 0749 7 12 26

<title>Legendary Hollywood Producer Goes To Wyoming Bar And Talks Redford, Gable, De Niro | Cowboy State Daily</title>

Hawk Koch, a Hollywood producer and former president of the Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences, stopped by the Shell Bar last week to talk about his work on movies such as "Chinatown," "Marathon Man," and "Wayne's World" and his encounters with legendary actors.

Legendary Hollywood Producer Goes To Wyoming Bar And Talks Redford, Gable, De Niro

Tourism

On a cold winter’s night in the 1950s, a young Marine named Wayne Schell found himself in a desperate scramble under the hood of his 1950 Oldsmobile on a lonely stretch of Route 66. 

A tiny pinhole had developed in the radiator, and Schell was trying to figure out how to fix it so he could get home — without forking over his hard-earned money for a motel room.

“When you’re a young Marine, you can’t really afford a motel or anything,” Schell said with a chuckle. “You drive nonstop.”

The Marine riding with him to share expenses came up with a bright idea. Or so it seemed at 1 a.m.

“Well, maybe I can put this pencil tip in it to block it,” Schell recalled him saying. 

Historic U.S. Route 66 is America's longest small town — a 2,400-mile neighborhood that one historian calls the "quintessential American experience." 90-year-old Wayne Schell has driven the entire route dozens of times and continues to drive it today.

You Still Here? Thursday, June 8, 2023

In case you missed it

More in You Still Here

Today In Marriage: Sunday, July 12, 2026

Bonus Video 2: Sunday, July 12, 2026

Today In Parenting: Sunday, July 12, 2026

Today In Golf: Sunday, July 12, 2026

Most read