We continue with Grand Island, which fills up three folders. Was there a reason, or was I just snap-happy?

Nice to see a building designed by William Joyce:

Ground floor rehab that isn’t too disrespectful. Rather idiosyncratic and fun building. Believe it or not, the structure was erected as a movie theater, but has been something else since 1924.

“What do you mean, you don’t have any peaches?”

Hard end for the cornice.

Cornice shaving seems to have been popular for this block as well:

After they removed the cornice, the brick behind it was visible for a short time. Now it peeks out again.

Down the block, it’s in better shape, and looks like everything’s been respiffified.

EMPIRE.

This referred to something else; what? I mean, obviously, a store, but what type? Why that name?

ROESER

1888 - 1923, as if the building is a grave marker.

Looks like a rehab is underway.

Can we roll back the clock? Yes:

Well, they’ll surely get around to blasting off the paint soon enough.

Wonder if the cars have been around since I snipped this? (No, not yet.)

The Downtown Center:

Surely it had another name? Yes. First National Bank of Grand Island.

That’s . . . that’s not enough cupola.

Designed in 1901, and of course it’s on the National Register. Why do we never see interior shots of these places on the internet?

Well, good shots, that is.

Someone got an upgrade in the Perry Mason era. Goes really well with those windows.

We all know what this was, and is, right? Let’s see if we’re right.

It was the Yancy.

History site:

The building began to rise above downtown Grand Island—and then stopped abruptly in 1918 due to financial difficulties and World War I shortages of labor and materials. The building stood as an embarrassing half-finished skeleton for five years before new investors took over.

When it opened in 1923, the Hotel Yancey featured amenities such as a ballroom, party and banquet rooms, public bath house, pharmacy, coffee shop, cigar shop, barber shop, billiard room, laundry, and other amenities. Its restaurant offered truffles, caviar, and calf brains, and hotel guests were greeted by doormen and bellhops. This was how to travel in style. One didn’t have to forgo big-city amenities even in the heart of Nebraska.

It closed in 1982. The linked story, BTW, discusses the use of an African American doorman in the postcard picture, and this story identifies him, and tells his story. It’s pretty cool that they found him.

Next week: part three.