Twenty-three thousand souls - the perfect size for a downtown of substance. Or one that once had substance, and now hears the wind whistle through the windows.
Says its Wikipedia page: "Amtrak's Empire Builder passenger train passes through, but does not stop in, Watertown."
Interesting group, and it must annoy local anal retentives. Not for the window arches.
Modernization, in one of its few iterations: the 50s Stone Jumble.
That's a lot of money. It was really a lot of money in 1853. Then came the Panic of 1857, which would depress the economy until the middle of the next decade.
But that was all before they built the things you see here.
It does lend variety to the street, this pretence that the middle building is its own man:
But I'd argue against it. Unless they painted them all.
Well, that's not uncomfortable at all:
That's about the worst ground-floor bank renovation I've seen in all the years we've been doing this.
This was the Bank of Watertown. The original building was constructed in the 1850s, and survived the Panic. This building was erected in 1915/. It looked like this in 1957.
Here's a fellow with a nice-sized ego:
There a several references to the Herro family in Watertown history page. One of their businesses was the Tot & Teen Shop.
That's a name for Moms, not kids.
Legend says it turns to glass if you utter the word "OrreH" three times while turning counter-clockwise:
Oh now COME ON.
It's not listed on the historic buildings site, perhaps because they're ashamed. It looks as if there was something quite nice and civilized that had to be exfoliated with extreme prejudice.
A view of the alley, with a ghost sign and a bit of Buckaroo Revival.
Looks like Hoffman Clothing.
Sometimes a building looks as if it's lifting up its skirts:
The Carlton House.
There's really quite a lot more - I could have done another episode. And I did! Go to the next page.