Filled in, paved over. Tennis courts.

This strange inscrutable thing has survived. I’ve no idea what it was. A transmission device for contacting John Galt, perhaps. If you wanted to stage a Triumph-of-the-Will rally, it would be a good place for smartly uniformed youth to stand, dramatically lit, but thankfully there’s little call for that ‘round these parts. It wasn’t a lifeguard stand; there appears to have been no way to climb it.

There it stands to this day, enigmatic to the end.