"The Christopher Columbus Transcontinental Highway." I’m betting most of you have never heard of it. Any idea what it is? The only place I’ve ever seen the designation is on one of those green and white freeway signs that line America’s Interstate Highway System. The sign is, or was anyway, at the starting point of the Santa Monica Freeway, in the city by the same name in California. That same freeway, an Interstate highway, runs barely an hour’s drive south of Hattiesburg. You know it better as Interstate 10. I have a little story about that sign. If I seem to ramble a bit, stay with me.
Named in honor of iconic Italian explorer Christopher Columbus, who, we were taught in grade school, “discovered America,” I-10 takes a 2,460-mile trek from California across the United States, including the Gulf of Mexico states and our own Mississippi, before reaching its terminus in Jacksonville, Florida. I-10 is the dictionary definition of a coast-to-coast highway, running from the Pacific to the Atlantic Ocean.
And while I-10 may not pass directly through Hattiesburg, we have immediate access to America’s coast-to-coast Interstate via I-59 or U.S. 49. Motorists driving the route, east or west, will see exits for Hattiesburg from I-10 not once but twice, at Slidell, Louisiana, where I-59 begins and again, at U.S. 49 at Gulfport. They don’t call us the Hub City for nothing.
Besides being a vital U.S. business and leisure route, I-10 is an important part of my life’s history, considering how many times I’ve driven it between where I-59 connects with I-10, just north of Slidell. From there, back in 1982, this young man headed west to Los Angeles for the very first time. (And yes, in 1982, I was still a young man.) What was my reason for heading west all of those decades ago? Well, I guess you could say I was chasing a dream. Here's the story.
I was an obese kid who grew up to be a morbidly obese adult, topping out at 484 pounds. But by my 24th birthday, something in my head snapped and I said to myself, enough! I took control of my eating habits and, by doing so, control of my life away from food, losing nearly 300 pounds in what I consider the greatest accomplishment of my life.
Still living in Hattiesburg and working on losing weight, I discovered and got into the habit of watching the “Richard Simmons Show.” Simmons’ TV show, focused on eating healthy, daily exercise and positive motivation, was balm for my willpower as I continued working to reach my weight-loss goal. After reaching a svelte 195 pounds, I ended up being flown to Los Angeles to be a guest on Richard’s television show. While there, I fell in love with the big city and, from my hotel room where the show accommodated its guests, I called my job back in Hattiesburg and quit. Hey, I was only 26 years old and kids do impulsive things. Back home, I packed my 1978 Chrysler and struck out on I-59, with I-10 taking me the rest of the way to Hollywood.
Two days after I was there, I visited Richard’s show as an audience member. His staff was thrilled to see that I’d returned to Los Angeles and then, fate stepped in. The day I was there, the show’s receptionist left his job, and they needed a new receptionist immediately. And there I was, fresh off I-10 from Hattiesburg, in need of a job. Richard and his staff noted, “Elijah’s just arrived from Mississippi, let’s hire him!” And the rest, as they say, is history.
The next morning, it was my voice you’d hear answering the phone, “Good morning, the Richard Simmons Show.” Beginning with my job at the front desk and continuing even after his show was no longer on the air, I worked for Richard, eventually becoming his manager. Talk about a Hollywood story. The experience was an education all by itself but, after more than 12 years in Los Angeles, the loblolly pines of south Mississippi began calling me home. I missed my mom and wanted to be near her as she entered her golden years. And so, it was time to load the car and hit Interstate 10 again.
Thanks to technology, which has taken over all of our lives, I was fortunate enough to keep working for Richard from home in Hattiesburg. I returned to Los Angeles at least once a year for work and to visit my now extended family in Los Angeles. Sadly, last month marked the one-year anniversary of Richard leaving this earth, as he passed away on July 13, one day after his 76th birthday.
When he died in 2024, I flew out for his services and this year, I wanted to be there to honor his life as I joined Teresa, the lady I call my big sister in Los Angeles, to visit him at the cemetery. Teresa was Richard’s house manager and worked with him for almost as long as I did. The three of us became like siblings.
But I wanted to do something different. Rather than fly to Los Angeles, I decided to drive, recreating my journey to Los Angeles in 1982, the year my new life began with Richard. I even learned how to use Spotify so I could listen to all of the songs that played on the radio as I drove to an uncertain future in LA back in 1982. And so, it was time to hit The Christopher Columbus Transcontinental Highway, good old I-10, one more time.
It was a spiritual three-day drive to Los Angeles, but oh how things have changed since 1982. LA will never be the same without my little big brother, Richard Simmons, but I’m fortunate to have built a family in southern California, thanks to all of those years working with him.
One of those friends, Michael, is a native Californian who, unsurprisingly, loves the ocean. He and I always end up having dinner at one of our favorite beaches, at Malibu, near Pacific Palisades. If that name sounds familiar, it’s because of the devastating wildfires that wreaked havoc on that upscale enclave and its multi-million-dollar homes nestled near the Pacific. One of our favorite restaurants, Gladstone’s, survived the fires but evidence of the tragedy was everywhere, complete with the faint scent of burnt ash still drifting in the ocean air.
After dinner, Michael and I would take the Santa Monica Freeway back to his house. I pointed out to him that this same freeway, I-10, would take me back to Mississippi. Since I-10 begins in Santa Monica, I was eager to see that sign one more time, announcing the beginning of The Christopher Columbus Transcontinental Highway. But you know what? It wasn’t there. Seems the California state legislature passed a bill removing the sign. As they say in California — bummer! I always liked that sign.
The new bill observed that the legislature, in 1976, named the stretch of California Interstate to celebrate Columbus as a “distinguished pioneer revered by millions.” But in justifying removal of his name, they now observe that Columbus also provided the impetus for colonization of North America, leading to the displacement and enslavement of millions of Indigenous people.
The first Native American to serve on the Los Angeles City Council, Mitch O'Farrell, praised the bill, saying the action does not erase the sins of the past, "including the centuries of genocide of Indigenous people unleashed by Columbus' arrival in the Americas." He added: "This action does, however, mark another important step in our collective journey to learn from history, acknowledge wrongdoings and blaze a better trail, founded in the truth, as we move together into the future."
Okay, I get all that. These days, a lot of people might call the removal of Columbus’ name one of those “woke” decisions by what is, arguably, the “wokest” state in the union. But I have to add, I sure did miss seeing one of my earliest memories of living in Los Angeles, that sign on the Santa Monica Freeway proclaiming I-10 The Christopher Columbus Transcontinental Highway. It was a comforting reminder for me---that home, Hattiesburg, was only a freeway's drive away.
