The Bicentennial may have been the grandest Fourth of July since 1776. It was certainly the longest; it lasted a whole year.

It was almost impossible to go anywhere in America on any day in 1976 without being reminded of the country's 200th birthday. Restaurants served meals on red, white and blue place mats; normally staid businessmen sported red, white and blue ties and Liberty Bell socks.

Stores advertised Spirit of '76 sales and Bicentennial Bonanzas. McArthur Dairy even offered red, white and blue ice cream. After so many years of assassinations, Vietnam and Watergate, it was suddenly fashionable again to be patriotic.

``The country was ready to come together,'' recalls Ruth Dukkony, who helped organize one of the biggest Bicentennial celebrations of all, the Freedom Train.

Crowds everywhere packed platforms and sidings to catch a glimpse of the rolling exhibition that mixed history, popular culture and odd bits of Americana.

Inside were 510 works of art, historical artifacts or other exhibits from 35 states (plus Puerto Rico and Washington, D.C.). It had been Dukkony's job to persuade the owners to turn them over.

``Nobody turned me down,'' says Dukkony, who now lives in Jupiter. ``It was wonderful. There was such a spirit in this country. The problem we had was turning things away. Everyone who heard about it wanted to be a part.''

Her two years as a vice president of the nonprofit American Freedom Train Foundation were her first and last experience as a paid executive. She got the job through friends who knew how persuasive and well-organized she could be from her many years of volunteer work in Washington, D.C., where she grew up.

Dukkony, then Ruth Adams Packard, was also active in Republican circles, helping to organize President Nixon's 1968 inaugural celebration. Her contacts, and her experience as a docent at the Smithsonian, helped open doors at museums and private collections across the country.

Among her prize catches: George Washington's copy of the Constitution, John Kennedy's rocking chair and Alan Shepard's Apollo mission practice suit.

``In many places, I had carte blanche to pick whatever I wanted,'' she says. ``I went to Universal Studios and came back with Alfred Hitchcock's director's chair. I came back on the plane with an Emmy in one hand and an Oscar in the other.''

Dukkony made many calls out of the blue to famous people, asking each to suggest something that represented an important achievement. A few needed help narrowing the list.

``I asked Bing Crosby what he got for recording White Christmas,'' Dukkony says. ``He said, `Rich.' ''

He also got a gold record, which he lent for the exhibit.

Dukkony persuaded Coretta Scott King to lend her late husband's vestments and Bible; golfer Arnold Palmer, his 1964 Master's trophy; track star Jesse Owens, his Olympic gold medals. Sometimes, she persuaded people to lend themselves.

``I asked Mamie Eisenhower to ride the train from Washington to Gettysburg, '' she says. ``People lined the tracks on both sides to see her. Mamie was trying to wave from both sides. She was so dear.''

After nearly a quarter century, Dukkony is still visibly excited about the project. She pops in a video showing the silver train emblazoned with red, white and blue stripes. As it rushed through white clouds pouring from its old-fashioned steam engine, Porter Wagoner and Dolly Parton warbled the Freedom Train's theme song.

The line was 3 miles long when the train made its first stop at Wilmington, Del., on April 1, 1975.

Between then and the train's 140th and final stop in Miami on Dec. 31, 1976, more than 11 million visitors paid $2 each ($1 for children) to climb aboard. (West Palm Beach was stop 138.) Each car offered a different theme: our immigrant ancestors, western pioneers, legends of sports.

The elaborate displays included animatronic patriots, a recreation of Ben Franklin's print shop and a peek into Thomas Edison's laboratory. Visitors were transported through two centuries and 10 converted baggage cars on airport-style moving walkways.

In each town, a handful of VIPs got a more leisurely tour, plus lunch, for $25. Dukkony hosted these special gatherings whenever the guest list topped 50. ``That happened 79 times,'' she says. ``That meant 79 cities, and 79 lunches of Kentucky Fried Chicken.''

So many faces in so many cities sometimes left Dukkony facing an embarrassing blur. On one stop in Minnesota, she spotted Hubert Humphrey, one of the featured guests.

``We're supposed to have both senators,'' she blurted to the man next to her. ``Where's the other one?''

The man smiled and introduced himself. He was Walter Mondale, the other senator.

Dukkony recalls many of the stops in detail - including Harrisburg, Pa., on July 4, 1976. The festivities were loud, long and emphatic. Visitors that day could stop at a special Freedom Train post office to get a Bicentennial postmark on almost any souvenir.

A smaller, more subdued gathering marked the end of the train's journey. Dukkony rode the train back from Miami to Washington and made sure all the exhibits were returned. Every two years since, she's joined her Freedom Train friends for a reunion.

``I still have such a good feeling about it,'' she says.``You know how it feels when you throw a party and everybody has a good time? I threw a party and 11 million people had a good time. It's a thrill.' ' 
 
 

Copyright © Palm Beach Newspapers, Inc., 1999 

Douglas Kalajian, Palm Beach Post Staff Writer, She Stoked The Freedom Train With A Nation's Best Memories., 07-04-1999.