Dave Gilmartin has caused quite a stir across the country. He’s published a book, “The Absolutely Worst Places to Live in America,” which lists 80 U.S. cities were recommended (or derided) by readers.
Quite a few of those cities are none too happy about it, either.
Five cities on Route 66 made the “worst” list:
- Albuquerque
- Tulsa
- Springfield, Mo.
- Barstow, Calif.
- Granite City, Ill.
Also, the book has a “dishonorable mention” listing. Four more Route 66 cities made the cut:
- East St. Louis, Ill.
- Los Angeles
- Oklahoma City
- Rolla, Mo.
I had a chance to peruse the book in a local store and sussed out other information about it on the Internet. I observed several things:
- Gilmartin’s book is filed in the “Humor” section. That alone tells you to take its contents with a ton or two of salt.
- Many of the author’s musings and reader testimonies are suspect — filled with dubious information, stereotypes and axe-grinding.
- Gilmartin sure knows how to publicize a book. There are nearly 40 stories about it and the furor it’s sparked on Google News alone.
I’m not taking it seriously. I’ve lived in and visited a lot of places. Any main “worst” listing that leaves off East St. Louis — and its staggering crime, toxic waste, grinding poverty, official corruption and acres of blight — but includes a growing, diverse, vibrant city like Albuquerque is automatically suspect.
Gilmartin doesn’t seem to be too willing to stand up for his book, either. In this story in the St. Louis Post-Dispatch, Gilmartin seemed taken aback by the strong reactions from nearby Granite City.
“I’m sorry. I really didn’t mean to upset anyone to that degree.”
He’s probably afraid steelworkers hoisting a few Stag beers at the nearby Luna Cafe would stomp him into hamburger if he ever set foot in the place.
Hey … if you dish it out, you have to be prepared to take it.
I can’t wait to read it. It sounds like fun.
Having worked there, I wouldn’t exactly call Granite City a garden district, but criminy … you can’t take this guy seriously when he’s completely ignored the fact that two towns over, in Venice, Ill., crack-addicted prostitutes are panhandling in the parking lot of City Hall in broad daylight. (I am not making that up. I have actually seen it happen. More than once.) If Venice didn’t make the list — and it’s a MUCH worse town than East St. Louis, by the way — then Granite certainly doesn’t deserve to be there.
When I think of Granite City, my thoughts wander to a little diner in the shadow of the steel mill, where for less than $3, I bought one of the finest plates of biscuits and gravy I’ve ever eaten — and a big glass of orange juice to wash them down — and got in and out of the building in under 15 minutes despite having to wait in line for five minutes to get a seat during lunch rush. Or I think of the great little stationery shop on Madison Avenue with the big neon paperclips in the window. Or the cool Nelson clock on the wall in the school superintendent’s office. Or the late, great Mrs. Seibold’s Bakery — home of the greatest Georgie Porgie pie you’d ever care to eat. Or the beautiful neon signs along Chain of Rocks Road. Or the Thursday evening we once spent consuming free hot wings and dollar draughts of cold Stag beer in the amiable atmosphere of the Luna Cafe, which thinks of itself as being in Mitchell, but which I am pretty sure has a Granite City address. Or the police department’s sweetheart of a public information officer who never tried to cover anything up and never hesitated to help me gather whatever information I needed to get a story when I worked in town.
As for Tulsa … what’s his problem? Is it the historic Art Deco architecture that he hates? Or perhaps he has a problem with charitable giving. We have the highest per capita rate of charitable giving and the highest per capita rate of volunteerism of anywhere in the United States. Oh, no — Tulsa is full of kind people who work hard and donate their own money to make the world a better place! There goes the neighborhood!
Maybe it’s the emphasis on education. I mean, you’ve just gotta hate a town that’s home to four, count ’em, FOUR full-fledged universities, all with excellent reputations, right?
Or maybe he can’t find anything good to eat here. After all, it’s not like we’ve got good barbecue (Wilson’s), good hamburgers (Hank’s, Wing’s), good quesadillas (Taqueria Jerez), good tacos (Don Francisco’s), good Lebanese (Halim and Mimi’s, Shawkat’s), good steaks (Jamil’s, the Avalon), good tamales (Josie’s), good onion rings (Tally’s), good cinnamon rolls (Golden Saddle), good breakfasts (Ollie’s), good hot dogs (Coney I-Lander, Carl’s), good root beer floats (Weber’s), good wings (The Right Wing), good sushi (Fuji, Tsunami, In the Raw), good meat loaf (5 and Diner), good Italian (Garlic Rose), good Indian (Desi Wok) or good ice cream (MaggieMoo’s). Poor baby probably starved half to death trying to find something to eat in Tulsa.
Maybe it’s our beautiful parks (Woodward, LaFortune, River Parks) that he hates.
Or maybe museums make him uncomfortable. We have three world-class museums here in Tulsa (Philbrook, Gilcrease, and Sherwin Miller).
Perhaps he couldn’t find anywhere to shop. I mean, it’s not like we have two enormous malls (Woodland Hills and the Promenade), several funky shopping districts (Brookside or Cherry Street, anyone?) and a host of strange and wonderful little shops scattered hither and yon all over town (Under the Mooch, Starship, Vintage Holiday, and Oz, to name just a few).
Maybe he didn’t like our running community. We only have THREE runners’ stores (Fleet Feet, Runner’s World, and Tulsa Runner), TWO full marathons (Oklahoma and Route 66), and ONE trail-running club (TATUR) in town.
Or maybe he doesn’t like cyclists. We have a lot of those, thanks in large part to our long and elaborate trail system.
Perhaps he just couldn’t find anything to do. It’s not like Tulsa is the cultural capital of Oklahoma or anything. We never get big-name acts at Cain’s Ballroom (unless, of course, you count Bob Wills, Loretta Lynn, Bob Dylan, Dolly Parton, the Ramones, Jerry Lee Lewis, Iggy Pop, U2, or the Sex Pistols), the Brady (unless you count Dwight Yoakam, Alice Cooper, Willie Nelson, Ray Charles, or James Taylor), or the Mabee Center (unless you count Elvis Presley or Luciano Pavarotti). And it’s not like we have a ballet, an opera, or a Performing Arts Center that brings in big-name shows every season (The Lion King, anyone?) … so I could see how he might have gotten bored in Tulsa.
Did I miss anything? Plenty, in all likelihood.
I’ve spent time in Chicago, L.A., and a half-dozen cities in between, and Tulsa is the one where I choose to live because it’s the nicest of the bunch (with the possible exception of Albuquerque, which also made this guy’s list. One can only assume he’s never watched the sun set over Central Avenue, wandered around inhaling the uniquely Southwestern scents of pinon smoke and roasting chile peppers while exploring the nooks and crannies of Old Town, eaten dinner at Mr. Powdrell’s or the Dog House, grabbed a malt at the 66 Diner or a midnight snack at the Frontier, noshed on half-bakes from Cake Fetish, or caught a movie at the KiMo. Anyone who’s done any of those things would know that the Duke City is one of the reasons New Mexico is known as the Land of Enchantment.)
Don’t let the door hit you, Gilmartin.
It was worth Tulsa getting on that list just to get Emily’s list of restaurant recommendations!
I don’t think it’s a coincidence that I’ve gained the better end of 15 pounds since we moved here. And that number would probably be closer to 30 if not for the river trail and the good folks at Fleet Feet….
Tulsa belongs on the list. The downtown alone gives it a thumbsdown. Tulsa does have good areas as do most cities but Tulsa’s downtown area….pathetic. No trees and it’s just plain ugly.
Ah, yes. Pathetic. Just pathetic. All that Art Deco architecture — so very ugly. The Blue Dome? Awful. Philtower? Dreadful. Mid-Continent Building? Philcade? Clearly embarrassments to mankind. And of course you’ve just got to hate the Atlas Life sign, the old Warehouse Market building, and those horrible, horrible churches on Boulder that are listed on the National Register of Historic Places. Don’t even get me started on the Boston Avenue Methodist Church.
Anyone referring to Tulsa’s downtown as “just plain ugly” is revealing nothing about the city and everything about his own incredible ignorance of architecture.
If you’ll give me your optometrist’s phone number, I’ll be happy to call him up and explain why he owes you a refund on that prescription.