Part two of Lorain.
There’s a lot here. I mean that in the literal sense. Ha ha! Anyway, besides being a lot, which is empty, there’s lots of history in this void.
There’s the absence, of course. We don’t know what was there. We may attempt to piece together some hints from the remaining wall, but it’s confusing. We do know when the spot was spiffed up: the Orb of Sargon light fixture and the Brutalist concrete would say mid 70s - early 80s at the latest.
“Uh, wouldn’t the fact that it had a big tree be more helpful?”
Of course! Never thought of that.
I am fascinated by everything in this picture. It is, to me, a series of incomprehensible decisions.
You enter through the left door, things occur, and you leave by the right door, utterly transformed.
The cone over the dead-tree hole (or what will, some day, be a dead-tree hole) just completes the tableau.
More confusion. Did the sign come before or after the building that’s not there anymore?
One sign, or two? Two, I think - it looks as if something is laid over MAIL POUCH.
Grandpa and Grandson.
Another fine example of the Guillotine School. Well, it gave the town a modern lilt, once.
As you can see, the streets are being rehabbed for a new, hopeful life.
The early years of the century seem to have been a prosperous time for the town, and a confident one.
Perfection, marred by the blocking off of the ground floor.
Otherwise, that thing is the most self-contained structure I’ve seen in town yet.
Before: wearing a veil, as if in mourning. Now:
What happened to make the town spiff up like this? Rising tide, all boats, etc.?
A bit too much pediment for the building, if you ask me, but I’ll take it.
And let us stand in awe for a moment of the cartoon-like name of the place: the Fifth Third Bank.
A little late-modernist box; the swoopy pillar on the right is kept to a minimum, and we are grateful for that. Those never age well. It’s a good thing that -
It’s like a fat man trying to steady himself.