Having visited shoetrees in such far flung places as Nevada, Oregon, and Minnesota, (not to mention a certain degree of complicity in one being created in Massachusetts) I figured it was high-time I visited one which was virtually in my own backyard: thirty miles west of Louisville, just outside the small town of Milltown, Indiana. I had become aware of the tree through internet research about the phenomena of shoetrees and had gained knowledge of its precise location via the fine folks at Roadside America who published my wintry photos of the Nevada Shoe Tree back in January. I had one day of driving and three days in which to do it. I also happened to be bobtailing to my next pickup, so I decided it was time for a little side-trip.

It had been cloudy all day, threatening rain. Once or twice an hour the sun would peek out from behind the clouds and dazzle the countryside with its brilliance only to retreat again. I kept wishing for the rain to hold-off. I was granted my wish as I approached the turn-off from Route 64 that would take me into town. The sun came out in full-force and refusing to be covered-up any longer. I discovered rather quickly that the directions were inaccurate as I drove from one end of town to the other looking for the particular street. I pulled into a canoe rental place which provided tours on the Blue River and inquired about the location of the tree. The middle aged man behind the counter with the gold teeth gave me some rather simple directions. Turn left at the cafe, go to the top of the hill and turn left again. Follow the road until you come to the crossroads.

I followed his directions and soon found myself on a narrow road winding through the countryside just south of town. The low branches hanging over the road were making high-pitched clanging noises against the tops of the smokestacks as I passed beneath. Along side the road were run-down shacks and dilapidated trailer homes, their yards brimming with rusted farm machinery and parted-out automobiles. The tune to "Dueling Banjos" began playing in my head and I imagined someone asking me to squeal like a pig. Then I thought of Hoosiers, where the kid lived with Dennis Hopper. Yeah, exactly like that.

What seemed like forever was only 3-4 miles riddled with anticipation but finally the crossroads appeared in the distance. I began immediately looking for the shoetree. What I saw was a shoe intersection. I wish there was some way I could've captured what it was like, but a photo from such a distance to take it all in would've been impossible and still have enough detail to appreciate it. It was an intersection of two roads and on each corner were shoetrees.

I went down to the crossroads, fell down on my knees

Ok, so this isn't 100% accurate. There was one primary shoetree, three auxillary shoetrees, and a handfull of other woody vegetation containing shoes as well. Shoes were everywhere. I feel though as if my words aren't doing justice to what I'm trying to convey here, so we shall commence with the photos. The first important thing I want to make clear is the remoteness of the area. Sure the trees in Oregon and Nevada were in the desert, but they were both on major U.S. Highways. Here in Indiana, it's a little closer to civilization but it's not even on a state highway. This is well-off the beaten path which means, aside from the few devotees like me who sojourn here specifically for this reason, this shoe-square has been basically maintained solely (heh) by locals. How remote? Here are four photos, looking down each direction of the crossroads.



I parked on the side of the road and began to take in my surroundings. I was completely surrounded by shoes! Apparently, someone wanted to make sure I didn't miss it, though, just in case.


Standing in front of those words on the asphalt, when you look up in the direction of the arrow, you're treated to the sight of the primary shoe tree.


But you can't tell two things from this photo. ( Lots and Lots more pictures of the shoetrees of Indiana )