If I die famous and beloved, my sole wish is that nobody name a highway after me.

This occurred to me driving IH-30 between Dallas and Fort Worth. Every few miles, enormous signs proclaim this the "Tom Landry Highway."

What a memorial. We loved him so much, we named a butt-ugly gash in the landscape after him.

this isn't about tom landry, God rest his soul. It's about politicians and their lazy, cheap exploitation of sentiment.

In Landry's case, a well-known, upstanding local man died, and people felt sad about that. Happens every time someone we all "know" passes. Then this wave of "we gotta do something" rolls over the town. Politicians look for a way to ride that wave.

Naming an object is the kind of thing they can get behind. They show up for the ribbon-cutting with lots of handshakes and sincere nodding. I bet they can even get a family member or two to show up, the better for legitimizing this, the rubber bracelet of photo ops.

In the case of the Tom Landry Highway, an unpleasant stretch of real estate got a new name. (Oh, and because it already existed, we didn't have to spend any new money. Bonus!) Any hobo trudging along that highway's barren shoulder, sidestepping the cigarette butts, failed retreads, and fast-food wrappers can look up, see the sign, and think, Wow, these people must have hated Tom Landry.

I mean, I never knew Mr. Stemmons, R.L. Thornton, Marvin D. Love, Julius Schepps. Somehow I imagine those who wanted to honor Harry Hines never suspected his name would come to be synonymous with "prostitution." Thank God no one named North Central Expressway after someone. He'd have been cursed 100,000 times a day, forever.

Look at Cullum Lane, if you can find it on a map. It's the nastiest little street in Dallas County. Gravel-shouldered, short enough to walk end-to-end in August without breaking a sweat. Nothing bears its address but vacant lots. The final insult: it tees into Harry Hines. We must have hated Mr. Cullum, too.

if you want something named after you, and you don't want it to be something ugly or pedestrian, you have to donate a lot of money. No matter how much Dallas loved Tom Landry, it would never have named a new symphony hall after him, even if his death had been timely enough to allow it. No, that honor went to the money man, Morton Meyerson, and that's fine. It takes enormous amounts of capital to raise a building, and it only fits that Meyerson's name went on that one. The sad thing is, Landry's work affected far more people than Meyerson's, and all Landry got was a bunch of signage alongside a utility.

In Delaware (and many other places, but I single out Delaware because I've been there), they have a Vietnam Veterans Memorial Highway. It's another smelly, hot wound in the landscape, source of noise and commuter irritation, and to top it off it runs through a swamp. (Excuse me: "wetland.") A lousy tribute to men who mostly didn't volunteer but went along to fight a war that ended up making the U.S. look impotent.

I guess one argument to the contrary would be that memorial titles are essentially the "naming rights" of these highways, ensuring we will refer to the deceased in our daily discourse. But I don't recall any traffic report in Wilmington, Del., describing action on the "Vietnam Veterans Highway": It was "I-95," as it had been for decades. Even if we come to know I-30 (which used to be "the toll road") as "the Tom Landry," is that how he deserves to register in our daily conversation?

We should name ornery things after people who've earned it. The Lee Harvey Oswald Landfill. Walker Railey Sewage Treatment Plant. Al Lipscomb Vehicle Recovery Lot.

Somehow I can't picture as many politicians at those ribbon-cuttings.

Posted by: Michael Rittenhouse at 06:24 PM | No Comments | Add Comment
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