Lincoln Highway: A square deal

Tom McDermott
Posted 4/8/25

There are many times in a person’s life when they wonder if their children, or grandchildren, are listening to them. A short while back I picked up my granddaughter, Kathryn Grace, after school and, as is our habit, we picked up an after-school drink at a local drive thru. I asked Kathryn if she was ready to head home and she stunned me with her reply, “No, let’s cut a square and relax.”

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Lincoln Highway: A square deal

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There are many times in a person’s life when they wonder if their children, or grandchildren, are listening to them. A short while back I picked up my granddaughter, Kathryn Grace, after school and, as is our habit, we picked up an after-school drink at a local drive thru. I asked Kathryn if she was ready to head home and she stunned me with her reply, “No, let’s cut a square and relax.” Cutting a square was a major part of my high school life. In the 1960s and 1970s we even walked squares. During high school one could walk the second-floor square or the first-floor square. After school, if you had a car you could drive the square. Although the route changed periodically one portion was constant: From Illinois Route 38 at the north end, south on Lincoln Highway to Lincoln Avenue, west on Lincoln Avenue to Sixth Street to Fourth Avenue, east on Fourth Avenue to Lincoln Highway. Lincoln Highway north to the turn around point of the day. In my day in the 1960s and 70s the turn-around was A&W Root Beer (sorry Joe Dearth), later McDonald’s, and then Arby’s. In my mother’s time they “Cruised the loop” which included Illinois Route 38, Lincoln Highway, Lincoln Avenue, and Seventh Street, a rectangle that went through the downtown and circled back past the high school.  

The purpose of the square was simple. There were no cell phones and once you left your house there was no way to contact your friends. Today this is called an information desert. Cutting the square filled the void. You drove the square until you spotted one of your friends, or a lost soul on foot, and then met them at the National Bank Parking lot. Friends were picked up, girls were met, and plans were made. The square was possibly the most important mile of the first coast-to-coast highway. 

It was in 1912 that Carl Fisher, owner of the Indianapolis Motor Speedway, came up with the idea of a shore-to-shore, cross country, hard surface roadway. In large cities and some smaller communities there were some brick streets and others permanent surfaces. Once you left the boundaries of the cities the majority were ungraded dirt paths. Carl had upgraded his racetrack from dirt to brick and was amazed at the improvement for the drivers. The raceway is still known as “The Brickyard.”

By 1913 the Lincoln Highway Association was founded with the following mission, “Immediately promote and procure the establishment of a continuous improved highway from the Atlantic to the Pacific, open to lawful traffic of all descriptions without toll charges and to be of concrete wherever practicable.” The initial hope was to have the project funded by auto-makers but the reception was mixed. Henry Ford was not interested, he was afraid that if industry paid for the initial project the public would never be willing to pay for the upkeep. 

Frank Seiberling, president of Goodyear Tire, and Henry Joy, president of Packard Motor Car Company, stood squarely (get it) behind the idea. Henry Joy pressed to have the project named Lincoln Highway, he felt that naming the project after President Lincoln would garner a patriotic response and improve donations. Henry Joy agreed to take the lead and became president of the Lincoln Highway Association. 

When corporate sponsorship fell short, federal and local government sponsorship came into play. The 1916 Federal Highway Act provided some matching funds for construction. 

Everyone seemed willing to contribute something but many would only participate in paying if the route went through their state, county, or community. The Lincoln Highway Association fought the good fight, they decided on the route and did their best to stay with the plan. State councils were formed, district and county councils were organized, and local or community consuls were appointed. Rochelle Street Commissioner M.L. Pickle led the local response.

To stimulate interest it was decided to create “seedling miles” replacing one-mile sections of dirt road with graded, concrete road. Malta, Illinois was one of the first (1914)  “seedling miles” and a small section has been preserved near the cemetery west of the community. From 1913 through 1935 Lincoln Highway grew and improved, through 13 states covering more than 3,000 miles. The road was officially opened in 1923 but not completely paved until 1935. 

Before she was a household name, Emily Post chose to make a name for herself by driving the Lincoln Highway from New York to California. This was in 1915, and even though the highway had been improved it was a long way from complete. Emily made it to Rochelle and was faced with a “sea of mud.” Emily stayed a few days at the Collier Hotel before loading her car onto a west bound train, finishing her trip to California by rail. By 1925 the U.S. Bureau of Public Roads declared that there could be no named trails of highways so Lincoln Highway became known as U.S. 1, U.S. 30, U.S. 40, and U.S. 50. Not to be outdone one the final stages of the Lincoln Highway was the installation of the famous Lincoln Highway markers. On September 1, 1928 the Boy Scouts of America began installing concrete markers at approximately one-mile intervals along the entire route of the highway. These 220-pound, concrete markers featured a bronze medallion with Abraham Lincoln’s profile and direction arrows were installed with the  declaration, ‘THIS HIGHWAY DEDICATED TO ABRAHAM LINCOLN.” Two of these markers can be seen at the Flagg Township Museum. 

Cutting a square has largely faded from the scene, young faces are almost surgically attached to their cell phones. But one day in 2024, a high school student brightened her grandfather’s day  with a simple statement, “No, let’s cut a square and relax.”

Tom McDermott is a Flagg Township Museum historian and Rochelle city councilman.