Out in Greene County, Iowa

The wonders of western Iowa enchant our fall tour, both in the hills and in Sioux City, too

By CHUCK OFFENBURGER
October 4, 2003
SIOUX CITY, IOWA

In the space of a few hours Friday, we went from one of the ancient wonders of western Iowa to a real modern-day wonder and were absolutely awed by both.

The first day of our Offenburger.com Tours fall adventure began with us exploring the beautiful Loess Hills, said to have formed between 20,000 and 150,000 years ago. The bluffs, towering 200 to 300 feet above the flat Missouri River bottomland, stretch 200 miles along Iowa's western border. Through the generations, they have served as the physical and spiritual homes for Native Americans, the Mormons who were among the earliest white settlers, and now a mix of farmers, small town folk and city dwellers.

We wound up the day on a guided tour that took us from top to bottom of a man-made wonder, Sioux City's fabulously restored and renovated Orpheum Theatre. The $12.5 million effort saved the 76-year-old movie palace from the wrecking ball. Since its reopening two years ago, the Orpheum has given the old stockyards city a whole new image as an important Midwestern entertainment and cultural center. Artists from Van Cliburn to Willie Nelson to B.B. King to Bob Dylan to Roger Williams have left raving about performing in the place, becoming powerful word-of-mouth ambassadors for Sioux City's moxie, vision and hospitality.

Thirty of us are spending this weekend dipping ourselves into the heritage of the region on a tour we've named, ''On the River and in the Hills with Lewis & Clark.''

One thing you learn quickly is that western Iowa has a grand sense of humor.

Witness the town slogan in little Dedham, which our Windstar Lines motorcoach cruised through: ''Laughter, Music and Love since 1883.''

Up the road in even littler Willey, the tavern on the corner is called ''The Mayor's Office.''

And in Moorhead, 77-year-old farmer John Lizer explains his last name ''is spelled and pronounced just like the end of 'fertilizer,' and they tell me I can really spread it.''

Along the way we ate, of course. A lot.

Lunch was at the postcard-perfect, 100-year-old, white-frame Christian Church in that town of Moorhead (pop. 290). The members served a meal arranged for us by the Loess Hills Hospitality Association, which coordinates tours through the hills and small towns in the area. There must've been 10 kinds of salad to choose from, as well as ham balls, potatoes, baked beans, baked apples and then a sweet piece of pumpkin cake.

Dinner was at one of Sioux City's classics, the 74-year-old, cozy Green Gables restaurant, which is now in its third generation in the same family. And telling you a lot about that family, this restaurant's food, service and décor are as fine today under the management of granddaughter Jennifer Vollmer and her husband John Vollmer as they were when the founder Albert Seff opened the place in 1929.

The Green Gables is famous for three things - its varied menu, being the only restaurant in Iowa that I know of that always has motzo ball soup and outstanding ice cream sundaes for dessert. Those sundaes have names that are as good as the treat itself - ''Goshawful Gooey,'' ''The 'H' Bomb,'' ''Harem Sharem'm'' and others.

Two of Sioux City's most famous alumnae - the internationally-famous advice columnists Abigail Van Buren and the late Ann Landers - always said the Green Gables was their favorite when they were growing up, and they usually ate there when they were back in town.

We remembered the two of them in a fun way Friday night. A Sioux City friend of ours Dick Lindblom joined us for dinner, bringing along his late father Earl Lindblom's Central High School yearbook for 1936, the year Earl graduated with the Friedman twins. Dick showed us the graduation photos of Pauline Esther Friedman, who became ''Dear Abby,'' and Esther Pauline Friedman, who became ''Ann Landers.'' In fact, the two signed their photos with their high school nicknames, ''Po-po'' and ''Eppie.''

Actually, we made Dick Lindblom work for his dinner. This business teacher at South Sioux City High School is also an excellent singer, performing regularly with Sioux City's well-known Shrine chorus, the Abu Bekr Chanters. He agreed to be a surprise performer when we were doing our tour of the Orpheum Theatre. He put on a cowboy hat, came to center stage and soloed on Gene Autry's 1943 hit song, ''Sioux City Sue,'' with the rest of us joining him on the chorus:

Sioux City Sue, Sioux City Sue,
Your hair is red, your eyes are blue,
I'd swap my horse and dog for you.
Sioux City Sue, Sioux City Sue,
There ain't no gal as true as my sweet Sioux City Sue.

Ah, the Orpheum.

You can not only see, but sense, the new pride this restoration project has had here.

Maybe it's best said in a quote painted above the doors entering the grand lobby: ''In the year 2001, the Orpheum Theatre was lovingly restored by the people of Sioux City to honor our past, enrich our present and illuminate our future with the beauty and magic of the arts.''

There are many heroes in this grand success.

But of special note are the Waitt family, founders of the Gateway computer empire, who gave $4 million in honor of their grandmothers. Also, construction company owner Irving Jensen tirelessly raised money and always insisted on the finest and most historically accurate furnishings. And David Bernstein's energy, enthusiasm and knowledge of the entertainment industry not only helped get the theatre re-done, now it's helping make it an operational success.

Bernstein is 37 years old. He is a Sioux Citian who left for Northwestern University, learned concert promotion in Chicago and then decided to come home and get back involved in the family's business, State Steel, which he now heads. But he's also become a key player in Sioux City's civic and cultural life. In fact, for nearly every big successful event you've heard of happening in Sioux City for the past decade or more, David Bernstein has been involved.

Over coffee and lavish desserts under the chandeliers in the Orpheum's lobby, then from the balcony, backstage and theatre underbelly, he told us the story of how they restored and renovated the 2,556-seat beauty.

How does it feel at his age, I asked him, to have been so involved in a project as grand and successful as this one?

''Pretty cool, actually,'' he said. ''I've always looked on it as a once in a lifetime opportunity.''

At the Orpheum, we were enchanted with the bright lights, fabulous furnishings and elegance all around.

Earlier in the day, we'd been equally as enchanted with the natural surrounds of the Loess Hills, made of the very fine, yellowish ''loess'' soil. In fact, it's so fine, said one of our tour guides Barbara ''Bobbie'' Ford of the hospitality association, that ''it's about like talcum powder.'' Stacked high, it's nearly as solid as a rock. But if it shifts or is disturbed much, the erosion can be quick and ruinous.

For farmers, who keep 95 percent of the Loess Hills in private ownership, ''this land is a little different,'' said farmer John Lizer, whom I introduced earlier in this story. ''It can be productive, if you take care of it. If you don't take care of it, it can go down hill in a hurry.''

He said he's ''spent my whole life in these hills, and I love them. I'll tell you, until I was 20 years old, I thought I owned them all. They always say that fall is the best time of the year in the hills, but I've never found a time of year when I didn't love them. I'm just an old hillbilly, I guess. They're just a part of me.''

Iowans are well aware that the Des Moines Register has waged an editorial campaign for nearly a decade now, advocating national park or national ''preserve'' status for the Loess Hills. The newspaper contends that would not only protect the hills for generations to come against commercial use and abuse, but that it would also cause tourism in the area to grow exponentially.

How do people who live right in and around the hills feel about that?

''That's a very controversial topic here,'' said Ford. ''A lot of people are opposed, but there are some who would like to have some kind of protection for the hills. They're in favor of doing something, but they don't want to go as far as a national park, certainly not like a Yellowstone or something.''

Farmer Lizer said that while ''most people here love the hills and want them taken care of some way, they're very set against any kind of government control.

''It's kind of like the old 95-year-old man being asked by the young reporter if he'd seen many changes in his life,'' he continued. ''The old man says, 'Sonny, I've seen all kinds of changes, and I've been agin every danged one of them!' There's a lot of people around here who are against everything like that.''

He paused, then added, ''In fact, I'm just about the only broad-minded person in the whole territory.'' Everybody on the bus erupted in laughter.

A few minutes later, Lizer said goodbye to us.

''I want to thank all of you people for coming and seeing our hills,'' he said. ''And most of what I told you is the gospel truth.''

Today, we join in the Lewis & Clark expedition, which began 200 years ago and brought the explorers up the Missouri River, giving us the first written descriptions of what it was like in western Iowa. We'll start with their story in the Sioux City area, then drive south along the river to other stops the explorers made before we spend the night in Nebraska City.