Yesterday, I shared a page from the original manuscript of my first guidebook. And today, I thought you might enjoy a peek at my first website. Here’s how ricksteves.com looked when it went live in 1996. It’s funny how much things change — and how much they stay the same. Our AOL email address is long gone, but we’re still working to help you make the most out of every mile, minute, and dollar on your next European adventure.
In 1979, a little battle was waging in my mind: Should I build a log cabin or write a travel book? I had the wooded lot in the Cascade Mountains, had picked the spot for the cabin, and took a log-cabin building class. I even had a line on the trailer I’d live in while constructing the cabin. But when the reality of peeling and aging logs set in, the competing big project — writing a travel book — won out.
Here’s a peek at the original manuscript of my first guidebook. I wrote it by simply writing out my lectures. (As you can see, I have always been evangelical about packing light!) I sweet-talked my girlfriend into typing it on a rented IBM Selectric, and my college roommate sketched the illustrations with a ball-point pen. Corrections were typed, carefully cut out, and glue-sticked onto the pages. Then I drove the precious bundle of pages to Snohomish Publishing, and — on my 25th birthday — returned to pick up 2,500 bound copies of the first edition of Europe Through the Back Door.
Click to enlarge.
I was so green, I didn’t know to put on an ISBN. And the cover was so simple, people in the media thought the finished product was a pre-publication edition. But it sold. What a long, strange trip it’s been since then!
The first edition of Europe Through the Back Door.
I recently received an email from my friend (and retired Rick Steves Tours Sales Manager), Deanna Woodruff. She was writing from a Washington Huskies football game, where she had just seen me up on the jumbotron. It turns out that the Huskies are still sharing a fun little ad that BECU put together in 2011. In the clip, some of my favorite University of Washington alums sing a rousing fight song chorus — while I put my hot air to good use on a sousaphone.
https://youtu.be/CsAU2-CtIL4
It was actually my love of the sousaphone that first brought me to the UW: I transferred from the University of Puget Sound because I wanted to play with the top-notch Husky Marching Band. It was a real thrill to be able to show my purple-and-gold spirit again. Go Huskies!
Here I am (on the far-left) in 1972, tooting away on my sousaphone in our high school German oompah band.
My schedule has been really packed with fun recently. Since Sunday, I’ve been in Washington, DC, celebrating the 500th anniversary of the Protestant Reformation. And right before I got here, I enjoyed a whirlwind lecture tour through Kansas City, Grand Junction, and Milwaukee. It was a great little trip, filled with crowds crazy about travel, and I got to talk in beautiful halls — such as Milwaukee’s venerable Pabst Theater.
Photo: Wade Johnston
Rather than make people wait politely in the conventional long line for an autograph, after I give a talk I like to hang out in the lobby and just say, “Pretend you’re in Italy and there’s no line…just gather around, and I’ll turn in a circle, signing whatever’s in front of me until there’s nothing left to sign.” The pandemonium is always a lot of fun (and far quicker than the alternative).
Photo: Matt Perley
In Milwaukee, I had an unforgettable experience during my post-talk scrum. For 20 years, I’ve closed each episode of Rick Steves’ Europe with the tagline, “Keep on travelin’.” I’ve seen my sign-off line on hats, T-shirts, and journals. But this was a first: Three happy travelers actually greeted me with brand-new “Keep on Travelin’” tattoos.
And in Grand Junction, I spoke to a very spirited crowd at the Colorado Tourism Conference. Many people at the conference were using their state’s name as a verb — and, that night, I was very nearly “Colorado’d” myself. To add memories to the already-fun little road trip, I dropped by the Twisted Turtle for some high-altitude fun and went local, for a moment, with the help of a fine cowboy hat.
