A Decade of Decay

MOTEL HISTORY: CHAPTER THREE

It had been a long time since a man and his son had seen potential in a fledgling truck stop. That man had long since passed away, leaving his son, now himself an old man and owner of a large apartment management company, to step in and deal with the morbid disaster that was his father's former pride and joy.

The old man, who shall be referred to as "Mr. K" (as I would like to continue my vocation here lawsuit free), had, for decades, allowed the motel and its property to run on its own. It had really been quite the cash cow. Although revenue had recently been on the downturn, he had always had extreme faith in the Johnsons. Moreover, he felt saddened by Mrs. Johnson's misfortune, and believed Mr. Johnson would eventually handle everything. However, with the bereaved husband's untimely death, Mr. K was left with no choice but to leave his Chicago office, and drive out to the old motel.

It had been years since he had seen the place, and what he now laid his eyes upon bore little resemblance to the quiet, country retreat he remembered. What he now saw resembled a cross between a run down country shack and a carnival act gone horribly wrong. The toothless couple, Al and Wendy, were still presiding over the decaying kingdom. Wendy, in all her toothless glory, sat in the office chair, clad in a bathrobe, hair disheveled. Along the front wall of the office were the now very dusty display cases that still contained the ultra creepy, life size Mrs. Johnson dolls. Al lay in his room, drunk, playing video games, utterly oblivious and unconcerned with the drug dealing and debauchery that now consumed the old motel. And there, back in the main residence, safely tucked in the master bedroom, was the actual Mrs. Johnson, blissfully unconscious, and unaware of all that was unfolding around her.

Mr K felt sick. He felt emotionally sick over the sadness that was now the once proud Mr. and Mrs Johnson, and actually sick to his stomach at the disgusting nature of the motel, and its even more disgusting toothless managers. He was also highly disturbed at the sight of the horror movie-esque dolls that graced the front office. In short order, he fired the toothless duo, threw out the dolls, and arranged for Mrs. Johnson to be transferred out of the motel, and into a proper facility.

Mr. K 's children, now grown and working for their father's management company, urged him to sell the property and be done with it. But he simply couldn't. The motel had been his father's baby, so to speak, and he still believed in its potential. Mr K brought in a management couple from one his apartments in Chicago, and set them up at the motel, hoping they could clean the place up. Initially, the new managers, Larry and Carol, did a decent job of cleaning up both the clientele and the property, but that didn't last long. Carol, at 300+ lbs, was more content to sit at the front desk, take in rent, and eat double cheeseburgers from the McDonalds down the street all day long. Larry, who was the encyclopedia definition of --well, I'm not sure there's actually an encyclopedia definition of semi-alcoholic, redneck womanizer, but if there was such a definition, his picture would be next to it.

Larry had hired a housekeeper named Kathy. Kathy was no prize, herself. She was a 60-ish Marlboro chain smoker, who had a leathery face, and probably not much more than an 8th grade eduacation. She had the same voice as Marge Simpson's sisters, Patty and Selma. (If you don't know the voice, you'll find plenty of examples on YouTube).

Anyway, Larry apparently decided that Kathy was a sweeter catch than his current cheese burger gobbling wife, and decided to make advances towards her. Kathy was not impressed, and somehow knew that Larry was pocketing some overnight rental cash. She managed to send word back to Mr K in Chicago, who then quickly set up a "sting". Larry was caught not reporting rent, and he and his wife were summarily fired. Kathy was given the managerial position on a temporary basis, until a proper, full time manager could be found. The plan was that Kathy's son, a man in his 30s, would move in and help her . He moved in, alright, and preceded to live the life of a demanding hermit, ordering his mother to cook for him, and provide him with anything he wanted. Kathy had apparently spent her life being ordered around by men, and had no means to stand up for herself.

Approximately three years had passed since Mr. Johnson had died, and since Mrs. Johnson had been moved back to a nursing facility. The following obituary appeared in the local paper:

"..... Johnson, died Monday, Feb. 28, 2005, at the age of 57.

She was a lifetime resident of ... and had many interests. She collected antique cars, dolls and bears. She participated in numerous car shows, often winning first place with her 1969 custom Palmeri automobile.

She also was a skilled tailor, adored animals, and had many pets. She was a friend of... for more than 30 years.

She was preceded in death by her husband, ....

Friends are invited to a noon graveside service Friday, March 4, at... Memorial Park on ... Road in ....

Arrangements by ... Funeral Home in ...

For information, call the funeral home at ...

Another two years passed.

The motel continued to stagnate, and Mr K found himself under increasing pressure to either make the old motel successful, or dump it once and for all.


Meanwhile, a decently educated guy, who lived in the same town, was really sick of the brutal sales company he had been wallowing in for the past six years. He was divorced , in his 40s, and wanted something stable and local....

Paradise Takes a Tragic Turn

MOTEL HISTORY: CHAPTER TWO

Life at the motel was peaceful. Guests continued to keep occupancy nearly full, while the Johnsons pursued their personal interests. Mr. Johnson continued to acquire new and unusual cars, including a replica of the famous "Munster Mobile". He often entered his cars in local shows, and occasionally won. He was also active in Alcoholics Anonymous, having been recovered for some time, and often sponsored members, even bringing a few in, to find peace and tranquility. Mrs. Johnson was a bit more eccentric. She had a penchant for dressing in black gowns, and having an overall "Morticia" look to her, complete with long, black hair. As a younger woman, she studied oriental belly dancing, and later hired herself out for parties. She even gave lessons. She collected cat figurines, and for some reason, also collected life size dolls, which were made in the image of-HERSELF. Current members of the local police force, who remember her, get very quiet, shake their heads, and usually say "She was an odd one..."

For all their idiosyncrasies, the Johnsons ran a tight ship at the old motel, and loved each other very much.

One evening, while celebrating their wedding anniversary, Mr. and Mrs. Johnson ordered in some Chinese food from their favorite local place. Unbeknownst to them, the restaurant had recently changed some of its cooking methods. One of these changes included a switch to peanut oil, to which Mrs. Johnson was severely allergic. The first thing Mrs. Johnson bit into was her favorite, an egg roll. Shortly after swallowing the first mouthful, her throat began to swell, and her breathing became labored. Mr. Johnson quickly called for an ambulance, already familiar with, and recognizing, his wife's symptoms of allergic reaction. Her situation quickly deteriorated as the ambulance took an inordinately long time to arrive. By the time the paramedics reached her, she was unconscious.

Mrs. Johnson lapsed into a coma from which she sadly would never recover.

After a lengthy hospital stay, she was transferred to a long term facility. Mr. Johnson did his best to continue running the motel, but needed to divide his time between that and visiting his comatose wife. He decided to hire on some additional motel staff to keep an eye on things while he visited his beloved. He chose Al and Wendy, a lovely couple who, between the two of them, almost had a full set of teeth. Al and Wendy took a room at the motel, and effectively became the managers. Al handled most of the maintenance duties, while Wendy watched the office. They brought in plenty of guests, with the main requirement being a pulse.
The quality of the motel clientele began to diminish.

After roughly a year of this arrangement, Mr. Johnson decided he could no longer keep up the back and forth traveling between the nursing facility and the motel. He decided that he could best care for his wife himself, and arranged to have her transferred permanently back to the motel. He set up their bedroom as a pseudo hospital room, complete with I.V.s and a hospital bed. He was convinced his wife would awaken one day, and he wanted that to happen at home.

Thus began a short, but macabre period at the old motel.

Once Mrs. Johnson was moved in, Mr. Johnson determined that a return to the old routine would be best for her. To keep things "normal", he would often bring her outside and set her (and her wheelchair) on the grass outside the main office. Occasionally, he would comb her long hair, and tend to her while passersby and guests would observe. Often, they could see the couple sitting side by side on the lawn; he talking to her, and she...not talking.

And so this routine continued.

The toothless couple effectively ran the motel, and Mr. Johnson tended to his beloved wife. During this time, there was a basic lack of upkeep, both structurally and cosmetically, at the motel. It also began to achieve a not so glorious reputation around town. The motel became known as THE place to purchase a variety of "under the counter" prescriptions, from the smoking kind, to the snorting kind, to the sticking in your arm with a needle kind. It began attracting less than savory tenants, and as a result, many would-be, decent travelers began to seek lodging elsewhere.

One evening, while driving to an AA meeting, Mr. Johnson suffered a massive heart attack, and died instantly.

And the worst days of the motel were yet to be seen....

What is this place, and how did it come to be?

Welcome to "The Old Motel". I'm Motel Chuck, and I run a motel (hence my name). I've been here a little over two years now. During that time, I have have seen and heard a lot of wild things. Many of my friends, upon hearing my tales, have said "You ought to write a book!" Well, fortunately, there are blogs nowadays, and I have finally decided to tell my story (or stories). From this point on, you will learn of the people who live here, what they do and say, and what I see and hear. Some of it is truly beyond belief. But before you can know what I do, and what this place truly is, you need to know what it was, and how it came to be. I will simply tell you now that this motel is NOT a four star destination. It is not the Four Seasons, the Palmer house Hilton, nor even a Holiday Inn. It is one of those motels, and as a result, it is a very colorful place.

I will try to write everyday, but there may be times, especially over the weekends, when I free myself from the keyboard, and live my life. I hope you will subscribe, and follow my stories. I welcome comments.
And now, if I may, I would like to enlighten you on the history of the place I now call home.

Thanks for reading,
Motel Chuck

MOTEL HISTORY: CHAPTER ONE

...Once upon a time, in a world without interstate highways, there was a rural state road. And on that state road was a truck stop. It was a simple place, where truckers and other travelers heading north could stop for a bite to eat. The diner was a lone outpost -an oasis if you like- on the road between the land of Lincoln and the land of cheese....

Then President Eisenhower said "Let there be highways!"

And the truckers said "So long, state roads!"

And the truck stop owner said "Where's all my business?"

And the tumbleweeds said "WE are your business!"

And the truck stop owner said "Screw this! I'm outta here!"

And then along came a man and his son, who saw potential, and decided to purchase the fledgling truck stop. The property was sold, and converted into a nice, quaint motel. A second building was constructed, and the business grew. Several decades of prosperity ensued. People traveling out of the city could stay and rest, and enjoy the acres of state owned wetlands that surrounded the property. It was a nice retreat. It was a beautiful place to visit.

A wonderfully eccentric couple, the Johnsons, managed the property during that time. They treated the place as their own. They eventually leased the entire property from the owners, and took possession of the business itself . They loved what they did, and also loved each other very much. They even had a second wedding so they could renew their vows. The Johnsons became well known in the community, and promoted their business. The townspeople, guests, and visitors enjoyed the Johnsons' collection of classic and unusual cars. Often, these cars were parked in front of the motel, so as to grab the attention of passersby. It worked, and the motel became a minor tourist attraction. Everyone was happy, and everything was great.

And then, tragedy....