There's no such thing as a typical California town, if you think about it. The state has every possible type. This one could be anywhere in the Midwest, for example. Population: about 6100 souls.

It seems the ground floor was reserved for very tall people.

Take the measure of the doors: the ground floor had quite a high ceiling. Big windows. I’d say it was a dry-goods store.

“Well, we’ve heard that trees work magic on old downtowns, and bring the vitality flooding back.”

“NOTHING! NOTHING HAPPENS ON THE FOURTH FLOOR! THERE IS NO FOURTH FLOOR!”

Steam feed?

“No, I think that’s enough light. In fact it’s a bit too generous, I think.”

“Damndest thing. We had another store in another town. Tornado took the sign. Rammed it right into the front of this one.”

Note the trash bin, which will probably stand there for half a century before all is said and done.

The Green building isn't.

I doubt it ever was. "You want to get to the second floor? You'll be pleased to note you can get there without stairs. Just jump."

“Ha ha you’re the first guy to come in and say if Buzz comes by to tell him Woody was here never heard that before”

Nice 60s building. Looks like a restaurant. It’s a movie theater. Or was.

The rest of the theater. This annex was once the Bank of America, Cinematreasures says.

“Story goes, his folks dropped him off years ago, and he’s been standing there ever since waiting for them to come back.”

The angled storefront, the thin irregular beige brick: the classic postwar look.

Let’s look at the THEN first.

That’s a lot of sign for a small town, but it’s a proud thing.

Annnnd today.

Sometimes an empty lot is better. Less of a reminder.