It starts way down there in Thayer. It curves and winds and bends its way north, almost switchback style at times, through the heart of Missouri. It slices and dices its way through small towns. Places you’ve probably never heard of like “Laddonia” and “Swiss,” as well as places you’ve visited or driven through numerous times like “Hermann” and “Cuba.”
Two hundred and fifty six miles long in all, Highway 19 is one of the original state highways of Missouri, opening to motorists in 1922. Back then it stopped at Cuba. Now it stretches north all the way to New London, near Hannibal. It has been the central corridor of Salem, Missouri for almost 100 years now, and I don’t know of a number that is uttered more by Dent Countians than “19.”
For the latter part of my childhood I lived right on it. I looked up and down it both ways, twice, to ensure safe passage to our mailbox. I navigated the “S Curve” a few times. I hit the curb by Mr. Jim’s because I was looking down at my disc man (remember those?) in my Toyota Tercel. I hit a bird by North Lawn Cemetery, and watched one of its wings flap above the hood helplessly all the way into town.
I’ve sat at the intersection of 19 and Fourth Street, waving two fingers to the car on my right to “go ahead,” while they did the same to me. We lunged and braked and awkwardly waited for someone to assert themselves. I’ve sat at the same intersection sweating because I was driving a stick and there was a car behind me and I didn’t want to mess up and roll backwards and cause a scene.
My elementary school sat on Highway 19, so did several farms I hauled hay on. I ate lunch after senior prom at Stephen’s Steak House (on Highway 19), I played putt-putt golf at the old course south of town (on Highway 19). What didn’t we do on Highway 19? It’s the reference point for many memories, dating back nearly a century.
If Highway 19 is the spine of Missouri, its scoliosis is most obvious between Salem and Eminence. That 44-mile stretch has made more than one belly flip and flop to the point of discomfort as it rises and falls and darts back and forth around the closest thing to mountains Missouri has to offer. For every out-of-towner it has made queasy, it has also caused many a person to gawk in awe at the breathtaking vistas that flank the highway.
I drove it with my parents many times. It’s a path I took my now-wife down to try and woo her with romance and introduce her to my neck of the woods. I’ve eaten my way through the diners that have come and gone in Eminence, and I’ve even ventured to points south — Winona, Alton, and Thayer. It’s a beautiful drive. Watch out for motorcycles. And city people. And loggers. Just watch out. It’s as dangerous a drive as it is pretty.
If Highway 19 defines our community, it also defines dozens of others. From Thayer to New London, it’s not just the spine of Missouri but also the heart. We take for granted these familiar paths and forget how essential they are to our daily lives. For me, Highway 19 was not just a road, but an ever-present character in the story of my upbringing. Like many folks who live on or near it, you can’t tame it. You’ll never straighten it out. It is what is. Just grip the wheel at ten and two, appreciate its complexity and beauty, and enjoy the drive.
