It’s a quiet house now, and I miss the Gorls. (That would be the trio of females, spoken in the True from “Despicable Me” movies, only one of which I enjoyed; the second was a trial, the third was all in the trailer.) Birch and I had hamburgers and a walk, during which I ran into someone in the neighborhood who recognized me - aw shucks - and wanted to say hello to Birch, about whom he had read a few things. We got to talking, and he mentioned he lived around here - “I’m the guy with the Greyhound Bus.”

That does narrow it down, doesn’t it? And it’s true: he owns a 1957 Scenicruiser. A fargin' SCENICRUISER.

I saw it parked on the street a few years ago, and was astonished - A) because it’s a Greyhound Bus on the street in my neighborhood, and B) because it’s such a beautiful thing, such a remarkable artifact.

Anyway. On to Friday things, and this time I’ve something unusual.

I've something that means more than it might look.

This was the fountain in the 333 building.

This is a shot from the 90s, taken from a video. The fountain had lines of water descending into a basin. Like the rest of the building, it's very high 80s, a KPF masterpiece. Last fall it went dry.

I had hoped it would be replaced. I liked it, not because it was particularly beautiful, but it was so much of the era. They’ve made other improvements, like collection of big circular LED lights in the lobby, capable of producing whatever color they like - red, white, and blue for the Fourth; purple for Vikings season. They don’t entirely fit with the classical vibe of the place, but they’re interesting.

Replacement, however, was not in the cards.

They hacked them off. They weren't coming back. Eventually:

And then:

Perhaps a month ago a sign went up with a picture of the “living wall” that would be installed. Hmm. I wondered who it was intended to inform, since the building, like all others downtown, is mostly deserted. They’re also ripping up the entire lawn and walkways, for no good reason I can see. (The building where I work is also redoing the elevator lobbies, for no discernible reason as well - just getting this stuff done while there’s no one there, perhaps.)

The other day I walked through the building . . . and there it was.

I do not like this.

I do not like this at all.

I went to the security desk; I’ve talked to the guy who mans it about other things, and we always nod when we pass.

“Is that alive?”

“It is alive,” he said.

“Aren’t you worried it will just grow and grow and wind its tendrils around everything, and one day it will crawl up here and cover you guys and eat you?”

“I wasn’t, but now . . . if it happens I’ll take a movie before it gets me.”

“Throw the camera to someone as they close around you.”

“Will do.”

It’s like something from that terrifying book “The Ruins.” (Also a movie.) It’s alive and mindless but it’s not. It does not fit the site. What had been a symmetrical waterfall, a mannered thing that splashed and twinkled, its design coincident with the spirit of the space, is now this . . . this atavistic thing, and it’s as if I am expected to worship it.

Now, something else. The big apartment building on Park. The site, last year:

Right now:

This is a neighborhood on the edge of downtown. Almost literally so; maybe a block inside the "downtown" concept. The neighborhood to the immediate south was trending up, and could be called "transitional."

That was before.

The weekly 5 second sweep, from RBC to the new apartment tower going up on the other side of Hennepin.


From my vast collection of things with almost no monetary value whatsover, I bring you this week's entry.

Translation: "40 years museum" annd "Stamp Day." Upon further investigation, it's the 40th anniversary of the postal museum. And it seems they hired the Headless Horseman.

This year it's Bela on the last Friday of the week. Rather then stretch them out over the course of the week, I'll dump them all here in one day. It's like Lance, without the mystery.


The suspense is murder, isn't it

Solution is here.






SWANK. Yes, the last Friday of the month is Jingle Day! Thrill with us as Anita's singers set the stage for your listening pleasure with the shouts that defined an era - and still define the medium, if you ask me.

Sam Holman was WLS' PD; more here.




This guy became GM.




Ed was in on the ground floor for the bright new sound, but left after half a year. Wasn't his style.




Yes, well, of course, him. Sedate promo for "one of the original 'screamers.'"




It's not often we have a singer who was an actual character in a Star Trek episode.








1976: NWBank. Write yourself a loan!


There you have it; enjoy your weekend.



blog comments powered by Disqus