I didn’t know what to expect when I looked for McKeesport. Basic stats: "The population was 19,731 at the 2010 census. By population, it is Allegheny County's second-largest city, after Pittsburgh. Wikipedia:


"Settled in 1795 and named in honor of John McKee, its founder, McKeesport remained a village until 1830 when coal mining began in the region. Large deposits of bituminous coal existed."

Coal, eh.

The population was 55,355 m 1940. It’s under 20K now.

There was also a company called National Tube Works; they employed 10,000 men, once. It’s still called the Tube City. US Steel bought them a long, long time ago, and while the line still exists, I gather that they make Tubes elsewhere.

The result of these dislocations - well, it’ll take two weeks to work through this.

The sort of view that once would be bustling on six out of seven days. Masonic Temple in the background.

Now you can’t tell if the Google car came through on Tuesday or Sunday.

The People’s State Bank building.

Fifth avenue - on the slender side of the building - appears to have been the main shopping street. I've come across a few rueful recollections from residents who recalled its post-war heyday.

It loked like this, once.

Life! A citizen trudges home to the State Housing Block #12:

This fellow walks past a building that used to be a furniture store, I think. The aforementioned bank building also had a furniture store, Reuben's.

Folks liked to sit down after a day in the Tube Works.

Old and new, same fate:

It's like a 60s guy who lost his job sharing a booth with a WW1 vet.

Looks like the older building got a haircut, too. Probably was a bit more ornate, once.

Does the yellow line mean you can't park there? Is that even an issue?

The old sign said GILCHRIST storage. New owner, new brick around the door- but in the end, a busted sign and ttrash in the doorway.

Okay, this is getting depressing; let's see something big and intact.

 

Difficult to get a good picture of this one. Ornamentation on the cheap, with bricks placed at various angles to form patterns, but it's pleasing and handsome.

The ground floor suggests it once served a more prosperous clientele.

The scourge of the Buckaroo Revival reached everywhere -

- as the entire nation came down with a case of shingles. Of course that second-floor window had to be bricked up! God, LIGHT just POURING IN EVERYWHERE.

Getting the picture yet? No?

 

Top to bottom: the cornice fell off, revealing a different type of brick; the beige bricks aren't painted, I don't think. Something must have hung up there, and perhaps the red bricks were less expensive; they used them because they wouldn't be seen.

Tshose window frameson the second floor haven't been painted for decades, but it doesn't mean someone doesn't live there.

Fifties modernization; as usual, it divorce the first floor from the second. Not a bad job, though - you'd walk past, see the three chairs, note that one was open, and figure you might need a trim.

Polychrome stone, no doubt, can be found behind the paint. Romanesque windows suggests some Byzantine hues over the windows. The former purpose of the building - or the one adjacent - is announced by the absence of a sign. Can you tell what they used to sell?

 

Classic mid-century strip-mall style commercial structure, with that broad flat brick divider and the windows angled for modern selling.

There are some houses in the downtown area. Old houses.

 

 

You keep thinking: this doesn't have to be.

I'll end here, for this week:

 

Fifty thousand souls, once.

Believe me when I say: next week makes these pictures look like Zurich.

 

  
   
 

 

 
 

A humble start to this year's entry. Population: 3,460, give or take a few souls. It has ambition, though: the hotel no doubt made everyone think of the bustling train depot in old Gotham, with its brisk, sophisticated cosmopolitan scene.

It has a Facebook page. One comment: "The rooms are clean upon arrival but not much by way of getting towels and tp on a regular basis if your stay is extended. We ended up having to buy our own. Owners are really friendly though." That counts for more than you might think,

Unhappy brickwork on that green building. But a ghost sign redeems the view:

Owl Cigars. But was it a White Owl? That's what I don't know. Some signs for the White Owl brand said just Owl. If they'd have had modern marketing sensibiilties, they would have had White Owl, Black Owl, and so on, differentiating the flavors.

Barn Owl for the really nasty cheroots.

And what, pray tell, do they sell here?

I have no idea what they're talking about. One guy sitting at a card table with a stack of daily periodicals, waiting for someone to walk by and think "by cracky, I wonder how many they have. I'd like to read a journal from a different city entirely, just to see how many funerals there are for old ladies this week."

That's a lot of turret, Mr. Hetzel.

A Nebraska historical journal says "A majority of the structures are best classified as commercial vernacular. The most prominent, Queen Anne-style building is the Hetzel Block (NH01-044), located on the southeast corner of J Street and Central Avenue. It features an imposing corner tower, carved stonework and an ornate cornice."

And that's a big fat lot of help. Who was Hetzel?

Four buildings? Or one?

The answer can be found in the number of windows.

After all these towns we've explored, you have to admit: this is all too typical. From the rehab to the awning to the paint to the refitted window.

 

As if a curse had stricken the land.

I have to think there was more to this one, but what remains is spectacular:

 

The reason for those windows? If you guessed "hall for secret Masonic rites," you're wrong. It was the New Opera House. Again, scant historical information; Auburn seems underwhelmed by its past, or disinclined to share what it knows.

Can't have the Main Streets feature without the OSA, or Obligatory Shingled Awning:

The first-floor windows above the main windows are probably bricked up for good, but the building looks like it could be restored with minimal work.

Providing there was a market for office / residential at the price it would take to fix it up, and I'm guessing there isn't. But that's what they said about Fargo before its renaissance.

The last building in the world you'd expect to house a theater:

It's still in business! The site has a "Save the State" page, though. Uh oh. Turns out it's for a renovation drive. There are no historical photos of the place. There's no history of the place.

I suppose if you needed to know, you'd know, because you lived there. It was originally the Booth - great name for a theater in a state whose capital is named Lincoln - and was renamed the state in 1941, eleven years after it opened.

Finally: The sign version of screen burn-in.

  Love that 9, although I'm sure everyone wondered why they did it backwards.

 

I believe this old book of biographies has our man:

Previous to his coming to Nebraska Mr. Keedy was for several years engaged in the manufacture of lime at Keedysville. He came west in 1881, locating near what was then called Sheridan, now Auburn, and here he bought one hundred and sixty acres of improved land, upon which he carried on farming until the fall of 1893, when he sold to his sons, and bought two lots in Auburn. Here he built his present residence.

When a young man in Maryland, Mr. Keedy was intiated into the mysteries of Oddfellowship. Politically, he is what is termed an independent, and in religion he also holds independent views, and has never identified himself with any creed.

There has to be a fascinating story about the reason a man named Keedy would leave Keedysville.