My first memories of US 45 was in 1963-1966, when I was in first, second, and third grades. I had severe allergies back then. The recommended allergy clinic was in Mattoon, IL, which was a half-hour east then a half-hour north of my hometown. Interstates were still under constitution---I-70 was open at my hometown in 1965---and I recall my dad driving us on the interstate as far as Effingham, IL, then we took US 45 at least part of the way to Mattoon because (if I remember correctly) nearby I-57 was not yet completed. Once at the clinic, I’d go through the batteries of tests to determine what allergies I had, mostly milk and corn, which until I outgrew the symptoms prevented me from enjoying most breakfast cereals with milk. A horrible experiment was eating a wheat cereal with grape juice instead of milk---barf.
My parents always liked Effingham, which is over twice as big as our hometown Vandalia and has a nice downtown with a wonderful office supply store, which Mom favored. I remember purchasing large ring binders for my genealogy project at that store. Not far from the downtown, US 45 and US 40 intersect, and a bit south of town on 45 is a decent shopping mall (Village Square) that my folks also liked to visit. So both 40 and 45 in Effingham connects in my mind to my younger-days shopping trips with my parents, who are both gone now. When we were dating, Beth and I drove over to Effingham on occasion; I feel nostalgic about the time she I went bowling there, because we so seldom take the time these days.
For a while, I lived and worked in southeastern Illinois, in the vicinity of Paducah, KY. US 45 is a major route through Paducah and that area, so the black-and-white 45 shields along the highway were common sights. Some days I liked to just explore the region, which placed me on 45 among other roads. Most of my grocery shopping was in Vienna, IL, in one of two grocery stories along 45. I also liked sometimes to eat at a very good local restaurant, named the Jolly Red Pig (http://www.activediner.com/jolly-red-pig/restaurant/vienna/il/us/profile/285359)
For major shopping I drove to either Paducah or Harrisburg, IL. Stopping by a roadside used book shop on US 45 between Harrisburg and Eldorado one day, I discovered that rather than being a junky place, it had a fantastic selection of books and LPs. I remember picking up a John Cheever book and a John Updike novel and also a Verdi LP on the old Everest label and Flotow's "Martha." Listening to that music connects me in memory to that two-lane stretch of highway outside a small town. If you look at a map of southern Illinois and find Norris City, you’ll see that Route 45 approaches the town straight from the north, and Illinois State Route 1 approaches from the northeast. You notice that the two routes “switch.” Route 1 takes over the straight-south path toward Cave-in-Rock, while 45 continues on the southwesterly path. That’s because IL 1 (dating from 1918) originally did continue on that road between Norris City and Brookport, IL. When 45 was designated in 1926, that portion was appropriated from Route 1.
Your map will show you that that whole stretch of 45 is a long curve, so that 45 could pass through the various villages and towns like Eldorado, Harrisburg, Stonefort, Vienna, Belknap, and eventually Metropolis. I liked to follow the somewhat winding way of 45 through Metropolis before it proceeded east and then south to Brookport and its wonderful Ohio River bridge over to Paducah. I think that's the stretch of road where I first heard on the radio, Prince's hit "1999."
Another nice US 45 memory (in a different way) is the fact that the pastor who married Beth and me was from Eldorado (which, I haven’t yet said, is pronounced with a long A). He died in his late 40s of cancer and is buried there, with his wife who also died of cancer. One of these days I’ll drive down that way again and put flowers on their graves.
My wife Beth has childhood memories of the family taking US 45 south from their suburban Chicago home and down east-central Illinois, where eventually the family would’ve worked their way over to US 41 that led to her grandparents’ place near Chattanooga. So for her, US 45 functions as US 40 does for me: part of the journey to the family farm.
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