RIVER CITY JOURNAL: MAYBE SUPERMAN COULD STRAIGHTEN OUT SCOTT CITY'S INTERCHANGE

* And while he's at it, maybe he could tell me the name of the town everyone seems to have forgotten.

Let me tie up a few loose ends:

The superhero search: A few weeks ago, you will remember, I offered my services to be Superman during the big whingding coming up in Metropolis, Ill.

The city fathers in Metropolis were looking for someone to portray the Man of Steel so tourists wouldn't have to leave town without chatting with someone in skin-tight pajamas and a cape.

As tourist attractions go, you've got to admit, a grown man on the street in bustling downtown Metropolis wearing blue jammies is guaranteed to pull them off the interstate and away from the slot machines at the casino.

The search committee waited until I was out of town for a few days to make a selection. The committee picked some muscle-bound would-be actor from California to don the daytime nightwear.

I didn't know this, of course, until I got home and started leafing through a week's worth of newspapers.

When I turned to the page with the story, I nearly fell out of my chair.

Actually, folks, it would be almost impossible for me to fall out of my La-Z-Boy when it is fully reclined. But you get the picture. I was stunned.

There was a photo of the Californian. I'll swear we could be twins separated at birth.

Also separated by white hair, a paunch and wire-rimmed glasses.

What? You didn't think Superman would ever get old?

Sure, Dennis the Menace can stay in kindergarten for the rest of his life. And Beetle Bailey will forever be an unwilling private in an all-volunteer Army.

But Superman isn't like all those other comic-strip characters who, after all, are just make-believe.

No, I'd guess Superman is more like Elvis: Either he's really dead even though a heckuva lot of people still see him here and there, or he never died and has a bald spot to go along with the truss under that gut.

I say it's time to wake up, grow up and smell the kryptonite.

The sooner the folks in Metropolis let an old geezer like me play Superman, the sooner they will realize the tourism windfall they so desperately seek.

I'm still available.

It's not too late.

The worst interchange: Some months back, you will recall, I announced a contest to find the worst interstate highway interchange in Missouri.

Maybe you think no winner has been announced because I was overwhelmed by entries and needed outside assistance to wade through the mounds of paperwork to pick a winner.

In fact, there were quite a few entries.

But, apparently, there was never a contest.

Everyone picked the Scott City interchange as the worst in the state. In the nation. In the world.

I now see -- this also occurred while I was out of town -- that MoDOT is starting to pay attention to the rantings of Scott countians driven to road rage by this goofy intersection. The Scott City mayor and a host of other city dignitaries have made it perfectly plain to the highway brass that the town needs another interchange in addition to the existing one that ties up traffic all the time.

To me, that's a good plan. Instead of trying to unravel the existing interchange and turn it into something decent, just leave it the way it is and build a new interchange -- one that isn't designed by a sight-challenged engineer who has had a few fermented gooseberries too many -- somewhere else.

With the old interchange and a new interchange, everyone will be happy. Motorists who have become accustomed to the existing maze can continue to challenge their gray cells if they want.

The rest of us will thankfully use the new interchange. If it's ever built.

Say, didn't I read something about a couple of billion dollars for highways?

Now's your chance, Scott City. Make sure MoDOT knows some of that cash has been spoken for.

The town with no name: For years, I've been zipping up I-55 to St. Louis and back and wondering how to find out the name of the pretty little town just east of the interstate and north of the Ste. Genevieve exit.

You can see the town from the interstate, but it isn't obvious how to get there.

From the interstate, the town resembles a piece of Europe. It's imposing stone church is the centerpiece, and there is a small collection of other interesting buildings.

A few weeks ago, I was driving back alone from St. Louis and decided to find a way to get to the town. Unfortunately, it's not on the map. And, it seems, few people know the name of the town.

Coming down old U.S. 61, I came to the Route A turnoff, which I figured must come close. Sure enough, it did.

Route A, it turns out, is the road to Zell.

Paved with good intentions, no doubt.

The road comes out at Highway 32 at the Ste. Genevieve exit.

I didn't write down the name of the town. How could anyone forget Zell?

Easy.

So I started asking around the office. No one could tell me the town's name. No one could even remember seeing a church or a town off the interstate.

Thank goodness, we have at least one Ste. Genevieve native in the building. As soon as I asked, he told me the name.

If you have an extra minute or two, take a side trip to Zell. I think you'll like it.

~R. Joe Sullivan is the editor of the Southeast Missourian.