Twelve thousand souls. History: flashpoint for 1960s Civil Rights strife. (It now has a Black mayor and majority-black City Council.) Lynyrd Skynyrd's plane crashed nearby.
So . . . the town’s been abandoned for, what, 40 years now?
Let’s start on the right side. I assume the Jacob’s / Falstaff is a palimpsest . . .
. . . and the building is cold storage.
Someone cared to make this a handsome and civilized addition to the street.
The person who did the lower floor in the 50s / early 60s had other ideas.
The meeting hall for the not-so-secret societies, with a nice little shop next door.
In its prime, this was an impressive block.
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Well, that’s an unusual effect; looks as if the various segments should go up and down like pistons.
Oh
Before its demotion, a picture of an ancient sign and the building’s original purpose.
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The building on the right would be good as new after a sandblasting.
The one of the left has that hideous late 60s / early 70s swoop awning, and you can see the crude blinding of the storefront window. ![](../../../bleats/archive/23/bleatart/main/div.jpg)
OUMB:
OUMB in its marrow, in its DNA.
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McGrory’s:
You know it was the local department store.
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The ground floor renovation had the decency to harmonize with the upper floor. Alas, it looks as if it’s fire-damaged and ready to go.
Held together with screws. Lovely facade; shame to lose it.
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Just put this one out of its misery.
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Here’s another example of a “modernization” that ended up making everyone unhappy. The cornice was stripped, and the ground floor . . .
It just doesn’t fit.
And it looks cheap when the old building asserts itself.
![](../../../bleats/archive/23/bleatart/main/div.jpg)
It was modernized once, long ago. Those black dots indicate glue, and I’d guess they held panels of metal or Vitrolite. Some new modern style.
![](../../../bleats/archive/23/bleatart/main/div.jpg)
The mausoleum:
Love those inlaid shop fronts. Come in, ladies, for all the latest smart styles! Oh right, you’re all gone.
![](../../../bleats/archive/23/bleatart/main/div.jpg)
I don’t know why, but I want to say . . . grocery store.
The two doors would argue against that, but the style, the arches, sometimes says grocery store.
![](../../../bleats/archive/23/bleatart/main/div.jpg)
That’s a nice refit, and shows it’s a going concern.
Unfortunately, it’s a pawn shop.
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Time is the fire in which we all burn. Also, fire is the fire in which we all burn.
Just knock it down. Let it go.
![](../../../bleats/archive/23/bleatart/main/div.jpg)
The motel we’ll meet tomorrow.
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Finally:
If you have to tell people “no, that’s not a prison,” you’ve hired the wrong architect.
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