Week #2 of the remnants of East Liverpool, the former Ceramics Hub of Western Civilization.

This is quite an eclectic old fellow: the J. C. Thompson building.

You might call it a Painted Lady, if it was in San Francisco. But this obviously is not San Francisco, or there would be coffee places in this storefront and the rooms would rented to tech people at $9,000 per month.

Interesting concept on the left: the Reverse Bay Window.

Original glass on the right, letting in the sun. On the left, what they thought would be just fine, because they had buzzing florescents to give everything a cadavarous pallor.

A tour of its interiors - with items untouched for decades - can be found here.

Give me a B! Give me a P! Give me an O! Give me an E! What does it spell? Benevolent Protective Order of Elks!

That's a substantial portico - but it somehow seems lessened by its placement on a brick podium, doesn't it? I don't know, but it does.

I don't know what that Elk is emerging from, and I don't want to know.

Trotters: a hardware store.

The intrepid East Liverpudlian historical mavens take you inside the building, here. (It's the 3rd page in the series; go back if you want to see the basement.)

Nice old ad for Mail Pounch, and the local bank:

But nothing about this view says anything happens here anymore.

Abandonment can have a certain artistic quality:

Scant compensation, though.

The Donahey building - well, the old grey mare just hain't what she used to be.

It's the upper floor I find interesting - those are dead doors, and you know they led to a balcony. Did it extend all the way from one door to the other? You can see three small dots right in the middle, where perhaps a railing was anchored, dividing the two apartments. Or perhaps an old sign was bolted in right in the middle.

At least they had the decency not to paint over Mr. Donahey's name.

The Vitrolite's gone; we have only globs of glue to show it was there.

The interiors look untouched from 1914, according to these pages.

Not everyone took down the balconies.

An old sign for FOO? Yes, FOO: Fraternal Order of Orioles. They've moved the nest to another location.

Another look shows the building's condition:

You hope the next time the Google cars come through, it's gone. It's bad enough to be abandoned, but when something's in this condition and it still sticks around it's even more depressing.

Finally: here's a welcoming facade.

I'd say, oh, 67 - 74, if I had to guess.

 

There's more: have a look.

I hope it comes back some day.

 
   
 

 

 
 

A humble start to this year's entry. Population: 3,460, give or take a few souls. It has ambition, though: the hotel no doubt made everyone think of the bustling train depot in old Gotham, with its brisk, sophisticated cosmopolitan scene.

It has a Facebook page. One comment: "The rooms are clean upon arrival but not much by way of getting towels and tp on a regular basis if your stay is extended. We ended up having to buy our own. Owners are really friendly though." That counts for more than you might think,

Unhappy brickwork on that green building. But a ghost sign redeems the view:

Owl Cigars. But was it a White Owl? That's what I don't know. Some signs for the White Owl brand said just Owl. If they'd have had modern marketing sensibiilties, they would have had White Owl, Black Owl, and so on, differentiating the flavors.

Barn Owl for the really nasty cheroots.

And what, pray tell, do they sell here?

I have no idea what they're talking about. One guy sitting at a card table with a stack of daily periodicals, waiting for someone to walk by and think "by cracky, I wonder how many they have. I'd like to read a journal from a different city entirely, just to see how many funerals there are for old ladies this week."

That's a lot of turret, Mr. Hetzel.

A Nebraska historical journal says "A majority of the structures are best classified as commercial vernacular. The most prominent, Queen Anne-style building is the Hetzel Block (NH01-044), located on the southeast corner of J Street and Central Avenue. It features an imposing corner tower, carved stonework and an ornate cornice."

And that's a big fat lot of help. Who was Hetzel?

Four buildings? Or one?

The answer can be found in the number of windows.

After all these towns we've explored, you have to admit: this is all too typical. From the rehab to the awning to the paint to the refitted window.

 

As if a curse had stricken the land.

I have to think there was more to this one, but what remains is spectacular:

 

The reason for those windows? If you guessed "hall for secret Masonic rites," you're wrong. It was the New Opera House. Again, scant historical information; Auburn seems underwhelmed by its past, or disinclined to share what it knows.

Can't have the Main Streets feature without the OSA, or Obligatory Shingled Awning:

The first-floor windows above the main windows are probably bricked up for good, but the building looks like it could be restored with minimal work.

Providing there was a market for office / residential at the price it would take to fix it up, and I'm guessing there isn't. But that's what they said about Fargo before its renaissance.

The last building in the world you'd expect to house a theater:

It's still in business! The site has a "Save the State" page, though. Uh oh. Turns out it's for a renovation drive. There are no historical photos of the place. There's no history of the place.

I suppose if you needed to know, you'd know, because you lived there. It was originally the Booth - great name for a theater in a state whose capital is named Lincoln - and was renamed the state in 1941, eleven years after it opened.

Finally: The sign version of screen burn-in.

  Love that 9, although I'm sure everyone wondered why they did it backwards.

 

I believe this old book of biographies has our man:

Previous to his coming to Nebraska Mr. Keedy was for several years engaged in the manufacture of lime at Keedysville. He came west in 1881, locating near what was then called Sheridan, now Auburn, and here he bought one hundred and sixty acres of improved land, upon which he carried on farming until the fall of 1893, when he sold to his sons, and bought two lots in Auburn. Here he built his present residence.

When a young man in Maryland, Mr. Keedy was intiated into the mysteries of Oddfellowship. Politically, he is what is termed an independent, and in religion he also holds independent views, and has never identified himself with any creed.

There has to be a fascinating story about the reason a man named Keedy would leave Keedysville.