ICONIC STATE LINE AVENUE: WHY IT AMUSES ME SO
When I came back to my hometown of Texarkana in 2005 and began managing the Active Age magazine at the Gazette, a co-worker from Fouke often teased me about me going down State Line no matter where I was going.
I do admit that I’m pretty bad about going the same way each time I’m traveling. It drives my mother nuts. She constantly goes down some weird roads I have never been on when we are driving to see my grandmother in Wake Village or my baby cousin in Hooks. She is similarly perplexed with my rule about always taking the same way but the way I see it, why stray if one way has been working just fine?
It may have something to do with me not particularly liking change. It used to unnerve me if she would move a new chair to incorporate some new furniture. I liked things to remain the same in the home, comfortable.
Maybe that is why I’m fond of ole State Line Avenue. I know its not the prettiest of streets. I cover city hall on both sides of the line, and I’ve heard comments about how the street has no rules whatsoever about how businesses can be advertised. This leads to a jumbled appearance with too many signs competing for your attention.
But before I knew the slightest about zoning laws and city planning, I was a young person in Texarkana getting my first car. It was not a reliable car. Often wires would come out and my lights would eerily blink on and off. For that, it earned the nickname, Demon. Whenever a policeman in Wake Village or Nash would stop me and ask me what the deal was, I would get aggravated and tell him I was on my way home and my daddy would fix it. My daddy, Ronny, served in Vietnam as a Marine and could turn a wrench on the older cars.
But it didn’t matter how reliable the 1969 Mustang was. Reliable isn’t what you are looking for when you are a big boned girl with frizzy hair living before the invention of Chi irons.
My dad and I found the car near a barn in Genoa, filled with dirt dobber nests. A super reliable car with good gas mileage, it was anything not. The original color was a silver color that reminds me of my 2007 Mustang, rest in peace, that passed away last October when someone wasn’t paying any attention and barreled down the wrong way on a one-way near the Vietnam Memorial. I called that car the Grey Ghost and even though I don’t love my 2014 as much (there is nothing like driving your first new mustang off the showroom floor), I still call it that.
But back to State Line. The car comes into the story because that is what I would drive down to State Line Avenue on a Friday night. In the early 90s, it was the coolest place to be. All you needed was money for gas and a few bucks for a Coke and fries at McDonald’s. Or when you were a bit older, or got extremely lucky, maybe a Purple Passion or some Hot Damn, both of which make me nauseous just to mention. But that was what we did as soon as we got our license. We washed and polished our cars and piled as many friends into the front and back seat to go out looking for love. Looking for trouble. Looking for a way to kill the weekend.
Inside our cars, we had a collection of CDs to fit any mood or we would just crank the radio. We loved songs like “Whoomp! (There it is)!” by Tag Team, “Fantastic Voyage” by Coolio, “Whatta Man,” by Salt N Pepa or “What About Your Friends” by TLC. Of course, if we were in a country mood we would listen to some Alan Jackson either “Chattahoochie” or “Crazy bout a Mercury.” It was that or Doug Supernaw’s “Reno.”
We also loved “Dreamlover” by Mariah Carey, “Mr. Wendal” by Arrested Development, “Return of Innocence” by Enigma, “Gin and Juice” by Snoop Doggy Dog, “Loser” by Beck or “Linger” by the Cranberries.
I have myriad memories of State Line, but one of the more humorous ones happened when my friends Lisa, Anna and either Wendy or Melissa were cruising on a Friday night. It was common to turn around in a parking lot to avoid driving toward downtown as nothing was happening down there. So when we were going behind a building and past a garbage Dumpster, we certainly saw a man jump up like a Jack in the Box. “Hey snowballs,” he yelled at us and we screamed back in fear.
This man, who we could only guess was homeless, was having a little fun with some young teens and he for sure got our goat.
Another memory on State Line Avenue happened in the parking lot of what used to be the Bonanza and now is the China King. I’m so old that I still remember when we first got a Taco Bell. I was in high school and my friends and I thought we were pretty big city to have not only a Taco Bell but also a Chili’s.
So on one of the Friday or Saturday nights, my friend Trish and I were out cruising and decided to stop in this parking lot. This was the largest lot and for the most part, the police allowed us to stop and loiter, although that changed somewhat when the citywide curfew came into play, but more on that later. So we were just hanging out and lo and behold there were two pretty cute guys who pulled up next to us in a truck.
I remember Trish telling me to keep it together and let her take the lead-she was always much better about keeping her cool. She could tell I was uber excited. So we talked to them and they asked us to go hang out at Wright Patman Lake. Trish raised her eyebrows at me and I said, “Oh heck, why not?’ Trish was keenly aware that her fresh faced friend was not aware of what might occur at the lake and she asked me if I were sure.
So we went from State Line and parked down at the lake on the way to the dam. The sky was filled with the stars and the guys were pretty much gentleman. We kissed but they didn’t push it too far and they asked us to come with them for a picnic at the the dam later in the week. We went down to the graffiti-ed dam, the one that isn’t filled with water, and ate our food. We showed them some dance moves and they laughed. We took photos of our new friends and an unfortunate image was snapped of me with my leg stuck straight in the air while lying on my side. I’ll come across it next time I move. I don’t remember ever seeing those guys again and I don’t really remember why.
You might be asking yourself what this story has to do with State Line and basically it just shows how the avenue served as a meeting place for so many young people. When you outgrow the skating rink, are too young to get into clubs and tired of bowling, there isn’t much more for young people to do and certainly nowhere to meet. So I am thankful State Line was there to be that meeting place.
The only time there was too much trouble on State Line was in late August as Texas High School students and Arkansas High School students geared up to face each other in the famous Texas versus Arkansas High game. Last year was the 100th year of this match-off and Arkansas won. Although I am a Texas High graduate, I was kind of happy for Arkansas High. Since I cover the Arkansas city council, I’ve gotten to know many Arkansas residents, and they are so sweet. I think it is more fun if someone different wins once in a while. Of course, this year I will be rooting for Texas High.
But anyways, the game doesn’t necessarily bring out the best in people. Back when my friend Anna’s brother, Todd, was at Texas High, they would go to the butcher shop and get a hog head and put it on a stake. This was disturbing to his mother for all kinds of reasons, including that she was a graduate of Arkansas High School. Todd used to tell Anna and me about this tradition when we were in high school and we were fascinated by the gruesome act.
But by the time we got to high school, the activities revolving the game had calmed down immensely. We were not allowed to carry a hog head to the game, although I would like to think we would not have done that. Although I’m pretty spirited, I cannot rule it out. On State Line, the boys with the big amped up trucks you basically need a ladder to climb up into would proudly display their Texas or Arkansas flags and zoom down the avenue attracting cheers from supporters and boos or worse-eggs or gun shots from nonfans. Yes, in the early 90s, guns at schools were a real concern and those guns or knives made their way to State Line. Luckily, nothing like that ever happened when we were out there and for that I’m thankful.
But back to the citywide curfews that were put into place during high school. The curfew made it illegal for those under 18 to be out and about after midnight. My parents cheered the curfew, but my classmates and I were quick to look for a loophole. We figured out quick enough that if we spotted a cop car, we could simply scatter to the other side of the street. The street is the state line, which means the law of one state doesn’t apply to the other. We would haul it to the other street and give the police a friendly wave. My daddy, who used to work for 911 at the Bi-State Justice Center, was none too proud. However many memories my friends and I made on State Line Avenue, it remains one of the main thoroughfares of Texarkana and provides a look into what makes our city so special. Where else can you go and be in Texas on side of the street and Arkansas on the other? It is a remarkable street for us and for our guests and it leads to the Federal Court Building where you can have a photo made with half of your body or half your family in Texas and the other in Arkansas. That’s hard to beat and this spot, known as Photo Island, is one of the most photographed in Arkansas, so I’m told.
So when you are needing a quick break from downtown, come on down State Line. There are plenty of places to stop for a snack and the old Dixie Diner is back. Best lemon ice box pie ever. You will most likely see me going down State Line Avenue because as Ashley says, that is my favorite way to travel.