This American Monument: The Gateway Arch
This series, sponsored by Blackstone, will explore the untold histories of America’s most monumental monuments while sharing previously overtold personal observations.
Every city needs a gateway arch. That’s something St. Louis understands along with, apparently, no one else. An arch adds a certain “archiness” to a city. That’s a fact. Ask anyone in St. Louis if they need an arch. Go ahead, ask. They’ll tell you: “No, thanks. We’ve got one.” Ask them again if they need an arch. Go ahead, weirdo, ask them again. This time they’ll get annoyed with you. See?
Impressions
Some people get confused when they first see The Gateway Arch. “What happened to that McDonald’s sign?,” they’ll ask. These people are idiots. Other people get scared when they see the arch. “Monster!,” they’ll yell. These people are cautious and understandable. I know because I was one of them. At first glance I thought the arch was a horrible demon, come to murder me because I keep lying to self-checkout machines about how much my bananas weigh. But it wasn’t a demon, it was just an arch, and there are no real consequences in life.
History
The Gateway Arch has a rich, vibrant history, unlike most things. It was designed in 1863 by Bob Arch as a joke. He was making fun of St. Louis but they didn’t get it. Today it is the tallest and most disappointing structure in the world aside from the Wingstop on 73rd. Many historical things have happened beneath the Arch since it was, as Bob Arch would say, “erected.” It is said William McKinley visited the Arch shortly before his assassination. The former president reportedly danced “a jig” beneath the Arch and patted his bum while saying “Nobody can kill me” in a sing-songy sort of way. It is also believed that in 1929 Hamlin Shepherd, the man the character of Scooby-Doo was based on, lost his virginity under the The Gateway Arch.
Personal experience
I first saw the Arch while on a bus in the early 1990s. I had just switched to a new barber and I needed to get away for a while and think. However, I think I might have taken the wrong bus because the one I was on at the time was full of convicts in orange jumpsuits. They were plotting to escape and kept whispering to each other. I tried to ignore them and focus on reading my book but my hands were shaking with nerves. Eventually, they convinced me to join them in their escape.
“Pretty please?” they said. “With sugar on top?” How could I say no to that. I put down my copy of “Heaven is for Real” and helped them brainstorm. The general idea being floated was that one of us would have to pretend to be sick or something to get the guard to open the door. I volunteered.
“I’ll just tell them I wet my diaper,” I explained. “They’ll have no choice but to come back here and bring me a fresh one.”
Everyone looked at me like I was some kind of a weirdo for wearing a diaper. Clearly none of them had ever tried to use the toilet on a bus before. If they had, they’d have known a diaper is the only practical way to travel and there’s no shame in it.
Anyway, I got really into my part and started screaming and crying about my dirty diapey. It turned out that some other guy on the bus was actually having a real heart attack around the same time but nobody noticed. Whoops.
Eventually the guard came and knocked on the door that separated us from the front of the bus.
“Who is it?” I said.
“It’s the guard,” he said.
“Who?” I said, playing it cool. It was also hard to hear him over all our giggling.
“The guard,” he said, getting frustrated. “Look, do you need me back there or not?”
“Fine, fine,” I said, getting up and going to the door. The guard opened the door and I pounced and immediately started tickling him. Unfortunately, however, he was the kind of miserable person who pretends tickling “doesn’t work on them.” He just stood there with a stony expression, staring straight ahead, emitting a concentrated boredom.
“You’re hurting me,” he deadpanned. “Stop it.”
I gave up, exhausted, sweating profusely.
“The jig is up, fellas,” I said, turning to the convicts with a hangdog expression. “We lost.”
Then, just when we’d given up hope, one of the other convicts rushed the guard with a shank he’d made from a prison toothbrush. Unfortunately, the convict used the wrong end of the homemade shank and ended up just brushing the guard’s teeth really well. Would we ever catch a break?
The guard gurgled for a minute and spit before he closed the door once again.
“Would you at least bring me a fresh diaper?” I said. “I actually did end up wetting myself and it STINKS.”
The guard merely shook his head through the bars.
“Only good bus riders get fresh diapies,” he mused. I was shook. Was I a bad bus rider?
I didn’t have time to answer myself before the bus crashed and flopped down the side of a mountain. We didn’t even have to do anything. Apparently the bus driver was just really bad at his job.
When we finally landed at the bottom all the prisoners started filing out. “One at a time!” I said, trying to maintain some order. “No pushing!” But it was clear their respect for me had waned and I got pushed a ton.
The last convict out of the bus was this guy named Richard Kimble and he kept saying stuff like, “I didn’t kill my wife!” (Sure.)
Once we were all out of the flaming bus, I told everyone to regroup at The Gateway Arch so we could figure out our next steps together, but nobody showed up except Richard.
“Hi, uh…” I said, pretending to forget his name.
“Richard,” he said. “I’m Richard.”
“Right,” I said. “Are you the guy who killed his wife?”
That really ticked him off. But as Richard proceeded to shout about a mysterious one-armed man, I couldn’t help but look up in wonder at the impressive arch, looming loomingly above us. This arch represented a new beginning. A start fresher than the fresh diapey I desperately needed. And as I passed through the arch and waved down a cop car to turn Richard back in, I couldn’t help but think to myself, “Is heaven for real?”
