Twenty-seven hundred souls. Claims to fame:

It was named for Edward K. Valentine, a Nebraska representative.

As late as 1967, Valentine was split between two time zones. As described in one news report, "The mountain and central time zones meet at the center of Main Street, so an hour separates the two curb lines." According to the report, when clocks were required to be set back one hour for daylight saving time, Valentine's post office (which was in the central zone) split the difference and turned back its clock by only half an hour.

I’m . . . conflicted:

On one hand, that’s a lot of attic space. On the other, it doesn’t look completely unmoored from all bank architecture tradition, like most OUMB. It’s like a house.

But it’s not very interesting.

What do you want in the window? Auto, Home, Life - yeah, sure, those’ll fit? What else? Oh

Holding the corner like a bank. The older building wraps around it?

Sad old thing, made more bereft by the sign.

It’s like a drunk was shouting out the “Things Go Better with Coca-Cola” slogan.

“Any place in town where a potato can get a drink and a cot?”

The second floor is straight out of a nightmare.

They did like their rusticated stone in Valentine. But what was it?


It’s just disgusting, he’s not divorce a month and he brings his cheap girlfriend to all the family events.

Command-A Command-C Command-V drag up on top of the original

What in the wide world of sports is this

It’s like something you find in the Babylonian section of the British Museum.

“We need two new bays, but I’m worried it’s going to throw the building off balance.”

“Don’t worry, I’ve just the idea.”

From the Copper-Colored-Window era of the OUMB:

A rote boring thing, perhaps saved only by the curve.

A civic building, obviously. It just shouts, or rather mumbles, government.


Hey wait up

Wait up, guys