Nice day. Wednesday. Daughter made dinner. Part of our "everyone upgrades their cooking skills" effort here at Jasperwood. I had to go buy Bulgar wheat, which required a three-store trip. At Target when I asked a clerk where they kept the Wheat he looked at me like a peasant who had wandered in from 1398 AD and would possibly want directions to the Poultice Department.

The fellow at the self-checkout stole a bale of paper tissues. I didn't know this until I got to his register, and saw that was asking for a team member to cancel the transaction. He'd rung it up, cancelled, and walked out. Happens more than you'd think. You'd be stunned to learn how much attempted and successful thievery goes on. Daughter has stories from her Target gig, and they do not reflect well on the cunning of the criminal mind.

"Hey, this has some sort of tag on it. Probably to make a sound if people steal the item. Well, I'll just cut it off, then."


Walking through the deserted tunnel that links the deserted City Hall and the deserted Government center, I saw a new display in the glass cases where they put artifacts from the Hennepin County Library historical collection.


The first one made me smile, because it’s the Covered Wagon.

This may be familiar to those of you who’ve haunted the Mpls section over the years. A Western-themed restaurant that seemed to make an odd assertion: nuthin’ like the food prepared on a wagon train, where they’re weeks from fresh vegetables, pack a lot of salted meat and canned peaches, and have to rely on what the sharpshooters can bring down!

  The helpful Hands, ready to please.

The Tempo had a great mid-century name, and design:

It was here.

It ended up as a sketchy place, was eventually scoured inside and out, and turned into a Mexican restaurant.

I ate there a few times with my girlfriend of the era, and I do remember a bout of food poisoning.

This ultra-modern menu was handed to a patron by a waiter in a room where the RBC tower we see on Friday is rising.

Really gets the salivary glands going, eh:


A venerable name - perhaps the oldest restaurant in Minneapolis, when it closed. I only remember it from the post 1961 incarnation, when it moved into a former bank. It morphed into a strip club.

The highlight of Uptown dining:

Beautiful. Also gone. But I ate and drank there in my time; there’s a scene in Casablanca Tango that takes place at the Rainbow.

The menus are more interesting than the food, which was the standard fare of the era. Steaks and iceberg lettuce. But there’s a grown-up feeling to all this, the promise of a good meal, a good drink, a good night. Back when eating out wasn’t the norm.

The building still bears its name.

I’m happier with the modern model, or what used to be. Lots of great diverse restaurants and access to all sorts of fantastic food from neighborhood places.

But still.








This is our second visit to Livingston. If you recall from last week, it wasn't particularly interesting. The ol' Stark Contrast set up. Well, Ladies and gentlemen, I think we’re in for a good one.


Cities used to be this swank, all over the country.

Well, surely they can’t keep up that level of old-style cool -

Gil’s Goods.

The spirit of Perry Mason is strong with this one.


You can see it doesn’t really have a lot of respect for the block, but what a brute.

Things like this make me happy. Signs from a lost world.

And the neon looks as if it still works!

This stretch just keeps giving.

You can imagine coming out at night, seeing the stars - twice as many as usual, because you were out on the frontier. Well, four times as many as usual, because you’d been to the bar.

No need to set off the staircase, if you ask me. Looks a bit clunky.

It also has the effect of making the building on the right look as if it’s getting the cold shoulder.


Annnnnd right here I just said “I’ve done this one before.” You’d think I’d check. But if you didn’t remember, then no harm.

Ghosts galore. (Which sounds like a 40s movie with a famous comedy team.)

Solid citizens from a prosperous time.

I think there was gold, or some other useful substance, in them thar hills.

Interesting how the pattern repeats itself.

Also interesting that no one put windows in the walls.

“What do you mean, you can tell we put in new brick on the facade?”

Imagine going down with dad to HIS BUILDING.

Imagine going down with dad to HIS BUILDING and being vaguely embarrassed.

Something from this century: a bona fide OUMB, with that awful bleached-elephant-man stone.

A reminder that before there was a phase in American commercial architecture that eschewed all decorations whatsoever, there was a phase in American commercial architecture that eschewed all decorations whatsoever.

A mess and a bit cramped, but I’ll take it.

Opened as the State; original marquee and facade, here.


A by-God American place, that.

There you go; and now here I go. Motels await!





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