We’re in Wisconsin. One thousand souls, so we don’t expect much. Don't get me wrong - I love WI! But upper midwest small towns under a grand, you're not going to find world-class architecture and a thriving downtown. Or might you find just that?

Maybe! But not here.

Well. An auto dealership, or a garage.

It has the look of a school, but it can’t be.

All those windows. Perhaps an office where everyone worked at big drafting tables?

Another long-john-silver building leaning on its peg-leg, making it hard for people to enter while someone’s trying to leave.

This has not been auspicious so far. This is usually the point where I start to give up, because it’s obvious the town did.

The old store full of “antiques” is a staple of these desiccated commercial centers, all the stuff from Grandma’s house tumbling down into this room, where it sits, covered with dust, for decades.

Oh, cheer up.

In case you were wondering where you were: it's Main Street, of course!

Full context:

Someone had a specific set of ideas about the use of the second floor.

The barber pole revolves no more.

Nice signage - and it shows what you can do with less. I mean, it's not great, but it's idiosyncratic, unique to the locals.

"Say Bob, can I take a gander at your barber shop architectural plans?"

"Sure. Why?"

“It’s symmetrical! Really! Okay, it’s off a bit, but it’s not like someone will come by 97 years later and point it out on a global information network.”

You can always tell a bank. It’s the weight. The solidity.

The Mvnicipal Hall, with the V-for-U Roman deal. People knew what that was. A few were no doubt confused.

Library in the basement? Or is it the first floor?

One suspects there was something else in the lower name block.

Removed because of a scandalous scandal? Or it fell off? Or there was never anything there? Ah - I found a picture of it. The nameblocks said I. Mahonna, owner of the dry goods store.

At least we know when it went up. But I do not know who was the last to shut the door and lock it up.

The little girl won’t remember, but the picture will always be there in the great depths of Google, waiting

OUMB once, I think.

The name suggests the locals still think of it as a bank. And maybe it has one inside.

“Turn key tavern for sale. Owner wants to retire.”

We hope he sold, and is enjoying himself. Does he miss it? The regulars, the cooked-in beer aroma, the smell of the hot-box where they made the Tombstones, the damp-rag stink, the clinks of the empties when you dumped them in the trash?