The Highway
OLD “99”
By Gene Hall “52
This historical two-lane strip of road constructed to connect Southern and Northern California was a rival to better known Route 66 and joined in romanticizing the “Grapes of Wrath” era of the 1930s and 40s. It’s construction and use had an enormous effect on our State transporting of farm products from processing to the market. The San Joaquin Valley was rightfully the breadbasket of the world and Highway 99 was the lifeline.
However, it simply divided the playground for several hundred kids in the dusty speck of our small Southern Valley town. McFarland originated before the turn of the century and was eventually populated by fugitives of the Dust Bowl era by mostly Oklahoma transplants. A few farmers had been successful in growing cotton, potatoes, and grapes providing income for migrant working families. A few small businesses sprang up in the 20’s and 30’s making the small town a place to raise a family.
We considered McFarland a suburban community of nearby Bakersfield, California and an important whistle stop on the way to Fresno. Upon graduating from high school and entering the real world we were a little put off to find we were somewhat less sophisticated than our “suburbs” definition suggested.
My Preacher Dad drove his family into this magnificent little town in 1942 during WWII and the next eleven years impacted my life as only small towns can do. The “Ninety-Nine” Highway was the one important difference between McFarland and the other small Valley towns located off this main California transportation artery. Some were larger, like Wasco, Shafter, Taft, Arvin, and others were smaller such as Maricopa, Weedpatch, but none of these had good old Ninety-Nine as a real main street.
This historic highway marked by road signs with the really cool shield, California US 99, was officially designated in 1926. It ran from above Los Angeles over the classic “Ridge Route” entering the world famous San Joaquin Valley through Bakersfield, of course McFarland, and passing through Sacramento all the way to Canada. This super highway was two-lane through our town and was exciting to cross on the way to school from the East side. Trucks barreled through with no reason to slow and in those days military caravans were common. What fun going to and from school each day.
I was eight years old, in the third grade and quite self reliant as my friends and I crossed the 99 twice each day during the school week and many times more on Saturday. Strangely, none of us were ever injured or suffered a real scare, as we quickly became professional highway crossers.
Old Ninety-Nine was actually far more important to the State of California than we knew. We considered it our personal connection to the world as the quickest route to Delano 6.5 miles away to the North and 26 short miles South to the Metropolitan Bakersfield. The agricultural products of the Southern San Joaquin were moved along this highway and were feeding much of the Country.
My Dad was the small town Pentecostal Pastor and we lived in the Church owned pastoral residence. The wood frame home was about 1000 sq. ft. with two bedrooms, one bath and a grand enclosed porch converted into a dining room. The home had no sound deadening insulation and was located three short blocks from Old 99. At night my brother and I could hear the huge trucks roar through town and too often a startling crash of colliding vehicles. My Mom, a want-a-be nurse, would leap out of bed and rush to the accident scene intending to perform some medical miracle.
The Monday morning “return to school blues” were softened by the excitement of crossing 99 and seeing the world roll through our community. My brother and his friends played a regular game trying to be the first to identify the make of the trucks passing through. “It’s a Mack, or it’s a White.” This was a real game, not an imitation graphic from today’s most popular video game. The passing trucks blew off your hat and the ground actually shook under your feet. The drivers would respond to our wave by sounding a piercing air horn and we sort of added that to our imaginary collection.
Adding to the importance of our little town was the Southern Pacific railroad tracks the paralleled the 99 Highway. Our daily adventure included crossing the two sets of tracks that brought several trains through McFarland. The railroad station was positioned so that we passed it each school day. The station was a special building that added considerable mystery to the railroad system. It was Grand Central Station to us. Few passengers ever boarded the train but stops were regular for shipping and occasional refueling. Most outgoing mail was loaded in a special bag and picked up by a speeding train using the hook system. A few times the bag was positioned improperly and to our delight the mail was scattered for hundreds of yards down the track.
Often the trains would stop for a while and block our path home from school. We usually waited patiently for ten or fifteen minutes for the track to clear. Some would climb over the boxcars using the attached ladders. A few of the more daring souls would climb over the hitch while others would crawl under beneath the wheels. On an occasion the train remained stationary for much too long for one of the town drunks. Just as he was directly under the hitch the train gave a startling quick jolt forward. The kids that were waiting spectators heard a stream of foul language that instantly multiplied our vocabulary.
Years later many of the landmark business like Roy Sheets Mobile service station and the old Greyhound bus station that lined Highway 99 were removed to make way for the new divided version of our main street. Overpasses were added and the train station abandoned and torn down. Most Eastside children are now bused to the elementary school as the highway is fenced and restricted to foot traffic. Trains never stop and a page in the history book is closed.
Today I would never allow my third grade children to cross a state highway or a major railroad on the way to school. Of course we wear helmets, seat belts, have car seats for babies, and never ride in the open bed of a pickup. We are safer and life longer. Do we have as much fun? I suppose.
